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Draco’s animagus form was unregistered. One: he wasn't a dragon. So, his boyhood dream was ruined. Thanks, Father for another false expectation. Two: he was an owl. A creature made to deliver correspondents and late birthday gifts. Excuse him for not wanting to register with an already judgemental group of the Ministry of Magic. If Weasley ever found out, he’d never hear the end of this. The idea he would break laws as an owl was a strange one. All he wanted to do was fly, not steal or eavesdrop into bland conversation. Whatever Draco thought his life would hold for him, it was not being stuck in a cage in the middle of Eeylop’s Owl bloody Emporium. “We have this beautiful Australian Masked Owl--”Draco dared, just dared for the old man to sell him to the sticky-fingered child who watched him eye-wide. He was a beautiful owl, yes, but he didn’t need scratches or those disgusting treats, or fingers in his just-groomed-right feathers. He wanted out of this cage and back to Scorpius, back to the Manor to see if his plan hadn’t completely blew up in his face. Scorpius wouldn’t worry for a few days, so long as the Manor did its task and handed over the message. So long as his son was not caught in the cross-fire, then everything was still fine, not going according to plan but enough for Draco to reassess.Now, if his son was anxious he might involve Albus and in turn Harry Potter. Running away from danger was a Slytherin trait but not one most non-Slytherin’s understood. Gryffindor might call it cowardice. They didn’t understand Draco was well equipped to deal with the threat who thought to attack the Manor. He already knew who it was and what they were after. But involving the Ministry in anything Dark Artefacts related was a sure way for the Daily Prophet to lie and point fingers at the Malfoys again. Scorpius had just managed to escape another year of being accused of being Voldemort's child.“I’m going to call him Sugarlumps.”Absolutely not. Draco gave the child a look and then his mother. Just in warning. He’ll peck that child's eyes out. Honest. He wasn’t bluffing and shrieked high enough for the boy to flinch. Stay away.“Now, darling, I’m not sure you could have this one. You see that little tag there?” The witch pointed to a red label under Draco’s cage, “That means it’s a rescue. It’s probably not the best behaved. It might even bite you. Let’s look for one that’s easier to take care of.”It didn't matter who, Draco would bite anyone if it meant they refused to buy him. He needed time on his own, without fuss. Before he’d been ‘rescued’ he hadn’t done much in his owl form but eat and sleep. But if he was too aggressive, he doubted he would be bought. Too child-friendly and Sticky-Fingers awaited him.“But I want this one. He’s pretty!”Draco was a middle-aged man who didn't leave the house often. There should be no scenario a young boy was calling him pretty. Circe, he wanted out. Draco made an awful racket, flapping his wings in the very owlish manner of: piss off. The child was corralled over to the barn owls by his wary mother and Draco settled.He relaxed as the next few customers were adults. And Draco wept. Why by all that was good, was Potter and Weasley here? Maybe to warn the owner how awful this place smelled, the polish was giving Draco a right headache.“We heard you had an owl attacked? Tortured?” Weasley spoke first meanwhile Potter looked around the shop like he hadn’t stepped into the place before. It hadn't, not even after surviving the War and changing owners. The owlets stayed in the windows for a cutesy sight, the larger caged or roped to posts further in. “Wasn’t mine, Mary found ‘im outside a few days ago. Only the cruellest o’ people hurt owls. I didn’t want some sadist running around, y’know?” The old man pointed at Draco and instinctively he puffed up, trying to make himself bigger and in control of this situation. He was not.Harry looked over him and Draco stilled. What if Harry could tell he was a human in animal form? The amount of ridiculous notions and feats Harry Potter showed the world - what would it matter if this was another hidden talent? What if the Ministry already knew? Why else would a Senior Auror and the Head of the bloody department be here over an attack on an owl?“Dark magic? Are you sure?” Harry hadn’t bothered to look away. Draco ducked his head, shuffled on his stand and wished the two would leave.“Definitely, Mary was sick. Can’t stand being near it. Poor thing was in a state when she found it. Left wing was shattered. Don’t think it’ll fly for a while.”Draco’s gut fell, he couldn’t fly? The cool air under his wings was only a memory, is that what he was hearing? That wasn't fair. He enjoyed the freedom for an hour or so, watching over the Manor from above and keeping an eye on those around it. Now, now he was stuck in that house again with no real way to anonymously travel without wasting time on potion brewing and paying others to leave him be -- Rita would never do such a thing.“Hey, you just need to fly to get strength back. You’ll be good as new soon enough.” The fact Harry Potter, defeater of the strongest Dark Wizard known in British History, was trying to cheer a wounded owl up was… Uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable as Draco hooted back at him to shut up. The idiot just smiled back as if somehow Draco was agreeing with him. Of course, Potter confused agreements with the sentiments of ‘leave me alone’.“If anyone buys him. Got a serious distrust of humans now. Can’t sell it to kids that’s for sure.”“Can’t really blame him, eh?” Weasley’s attention was thankfully on the old man and his valiant rescue of Draco. And Mary’s involvement in mending him for a few days. Mary was a shop assistant and she had most certainly done more than what he said. Draco remembered her keeping him warm in her robes as she rushed him here, her voice a steady stream of platitudes and promises of treats.Draco would have to send her something as a thanks.“Mary! Harry Potter is here! Can you take out the Australian Mask? They’d like to check it over,” yelled the old man behind the desk. Draco was certain no one else could hear the way Mary’s footsteps changed in sound. Suddenly she was heavy in step, like her feet were stomping on the floorboards - was she trying to power walk downstairs? Draco hooted a laugh. Harry smiled at him again and Draco lowered himself further. Damn it. Just go Potter.Mary was a short, plump woman much older than Draco was and seemed to smile always. Draco imagined she was the type of woman who thought of every positive before a negative. Her eyes and mouth were wrinkled by a life of full smiles. She marched straight over to Draco’s cage.“Now, now, they’re just here to make sure you’re okay.” Mary opened the cage and placed a hand in, thick glove already worn. Draco could smell several other birds on it. Gross. But he gave a tentative look to her before hopping onto it as Mary took the rope inside and held onto it with the other. He made sure not to squeeze too hard. Didn’t want to hurt the old woman.“Let’s have a look at that wing.” Draco didn’t move, keeping calm as Mary opened up his left wing. It twinged near the joint and Draco fluttered his right wing to stop from falling. He didn’t like this. He really didn’t like this. Harry had stepped forward and Draco could feel Mary tighten the leather rope on his leg.Nope. No, no, he wasn’t letting Potter touch him.“Calm down, pet. He’s not going to hurt you,” Mary said and Draco tried to still the panic.“Hey, hey, I’m not going to touch you, okay?” Harry said and his magic on Draco’s feathers wasn’t too bad. Draco wanted to restart the day.The bell above the door rang and another potential customer arrived. Draco knew that one too and with as much force as he could achieve despite his injuries, bit into Mary’s arm and flapped, trying desperately to fly away. The man walked with a swagger, held a cocky expression that said to Draco.
‘Found you.’
Without waiting, he had his wand out and aiming at Draco. Weasley, dumb as he was, still had his back turned and talking with that incessant shopkeeper. Why not paint a target on everyone's back? This was the worst. Mary, bless her, kept a hand on Draco but now he couldn’t dodge any incoming spells. So he squawked and cried, looked Potter straight in the eye and then back at the approaching threat.‘Behind you, you idiot.’That made things happen.Potter and Weasley were the same age as Draco and admitting they could still move fast when the time was necessary was about as nice a thing Draco could conjure up. They did their job. Not that Draco was ungrateful with their protection, but he was definitely unhappy with their protection. If he wasn’t stuck here, he’d be able to change. But the problem remained was: no one could know he was an animagus and as such he had to act like a typical owl.“What are you on? Why attack the bird?” Weasley asked the question and Draco distracted himself with cooing over Mary’s wound. He didn’t meant to hurt her so much, he had thought a nip would have had her throwing him away. The woman was hardier than she looked.Draco watched the attacker, a man Draco knew to be the son of Giannini Quartz; a 'blood-traitor' at the turn of the war. But his greed was well known and sending his child to steal, kill and maim made Draco wish he was human now, just so he could curse the disgusting worm. Moran only a few years on Scorpius but looked about a decade older, his skin scarred and leathery from potion abuse.“It’s alright, you just got a fright, didn’t you? Didn’t mean it, I know you didn’t.” Mary gave Draco a pet on the head which he awkwardly accepted if only it meant Mary wasn’t bitter about healing him and being so generous. He had to send her something now. Harry was red in the face and yelling, demanding to know what -- who on earth goes into a shop with Aurors already inside and commits a crime in front of them? Trying to kill an owl, what maddening potion had he ingested?Draco took his time to surmise what must have happened back at the Manor. They knew nothing of the Dark Artefacts, those that stayed in the Manor with wards of their own concealing and sheltering them. Now, if Draco were to guess Moran: he was about an eight out of ten for stupidity. What, did he think killing Draco would release the wards or switch their allegiance? Poor boy. Life must seem very hard in that head of his. Moran decided not to say a word, even with the grand Harry Potter there. Weasley left, apparating with the moron. Draco assumed he was one of the two who had seen him fly from the window.Now, whether or not the rest of them had information on Draco’s animal form was anyone’s guess. He hoped they were too stupid to bother informing everyone in their group. Or greedy. Moran had that in spades, if only because he was the type of man to take all the spades as to hinder everyone else and dig himself a hole. Never mind how unnecessary it all was.Mary gave him another few pats, ones that Draco didn't want to accept, especially when Harry noticed. Self-conscious again Potter knew he was hiding, he hooted Mary's hand away. “The bird’s evidence, then? We spent a lot of time and money on him.”Two spells and some raw meat, yes, Draco was sure the Emporium would never recover its losses.Mary kept the rope loose and Draco stayed close by. He wanted to say sorry, but all he did was hoot and have his feathers fall as flat as he could. He shouldn’t have hurt her. The woman who had saved him days ago. He let her then, touch his sore wing and stayed put even as Harry reappeared, looking at the damage.“We’ll make sure you’re compensated.” Harry sounded off, as if he wasn’t enjoying speaking about how powerful and fantastic the Aurors were now under his eye. Really, another Dark Wizard caught and Potter sounded like he was going to a funeral.“If you’re going to be taking him from here, you need to know how to handle a traumatised bird like this. He needs to get used to human contact again. Handle him at least once a day, unless he’s stressing out too much. But he needs time to fly, get the muscles back.” Draco couldn’t ignore the fact someone just tried to waltz into the shop and kill him. Clearly, Mary was in danger with him being here. Potter wasn’t his first pick to leave with but it was a necessity now. Draco had to change back fast.“On you go, love.” She tried to put him back in the cage and with one last attempt at an apology, Draco nuzzled against her arm before jumping back inside.Another half hour and Harry was loaded up on information and left with a grim look on his face. Draco wasn't too happy at the noise of Diagon Alley either, but he wasn't going to complain right now. Potter better leave him in a room alone for an hour or two so he could check the Manor and return just in case. Having Potter as a glorified bodyguard wasn't the worst backup plan.“I didn’t think I was going to leave with another owl,” Harry muttered and Draco hadn’t a clue why he thought leaving the owl emporium with an owl was so awful. He was the most beautiful owl ever to grace that emporium. As such Potter simply had no taste.
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Rude. That’s what Potter was. He ignored the smiling receptionist, the young Unspeakable that tried (and failed) to bring him a coffee. But most of all, the witches and wizards around the Auror department were barmy. The way they bustled around and yet managed to keep away from Potter by a few yards was impressive, if not concerning. Tracking down Dark Wizards must’ve caused them to suspect any behaviour out of the ordinary as outright wrongdoing. They smiled and greeted Potter, typical fanfare but Draco watched as their expressions dimmed, darkened and turned to scowls before they scampered away. Unexpected, Draco thought Potter was well respected with his Dark Wizard extermination record. Perhaps, he was ignoring the tossers for a reason after all.As Harry settled him on what could only be Potter’s desk, a rickety old monstrosity with a mountainous load of paperwork. The occasional paper appeared in the form of a swan, nose diving into the pile and unravelling itself. Most Aurors looked at Draco with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. When Harry came into their view they went back to keeping their heads down and shoulders up. Was Potter a slave driver now so feared by the witches and wizards who wanted an early night?Draco brushed his wing again, trying to reason that the old fart was wrong. He would soar. He wasn’t grounded.The first Auror to brace themselves was a witch with an upturned nose and walked as if she was on a mission no one could stop her from completing.“Mr. Potter, I believe today is your day off.“ She stood outside as if daring to come into the office of one Harry Potter was offensive. Ha, Draco rolled his head to the side and wished he could scoff. The Ministry gave the impression they wanted Potter here twenty-four seven. A few years after the war and all the Daily Prophet had ran was story after story of Potter and Weasley and their successful capture of Dark Wizards and Witches. Justice got dull by the ninth issue.“I’m just here to get the paperwork for this,” said Harry, motioning towards Draco as if he was a suspect. Cheers, just blame the owl, what an arse. Draco wasn't sure how often live specimens were added to the 'evidence' locker but if Potter could hurry up and hide him away, he wasn't going to complain about morality. If he did manage to transform back, he would need a reasonable explanation on why he, Draco Malfoy was coming out of a locker. That might be trickier to explain away considering most Aurors loathed his presence.“That’s all well and good, Mr. Potter.” The woman seemed vastly over anxious for whatever it was she was going to ask Potter to do. This was a man who’d saved Draco’s skin twice. The bloody Gryffindor.“It’s best for you to return home. To rest,” she added in afterthought, “Sir.”Harry had stilled, Draco couldn’t see his face but he knew after so many school years that The Boy Who Lived was no doubt flaring his nostrils like a thestral going by that ramrod straight posture. Draco’s laughter escaped in a series of drawn out hoots. Go on, make this as entertaining as possible.“I’m perfectly fine, Abbie.” Harry’s voice strained as if he was trying to keep his voice level. Which was laughable really, Harry was the kind of man the press called 'passionate' because he couldn’t stop the temper tantrums. “If that’s all?”“Yes, Sir. Excuse me.” Abbie did not look pleased as she retreated back to a cubicle. No one ever looked happy in the Ministry so a moot point but this atmosphere was closer to working near Umbridge than a celebrity. Harry shut the door, leaving Draco to check to see if Potter was going to start yelling in private.Whatever office dynamics were present in the Auror department, Draco had no time for it. He needed time alone, without peering eyes and change back. Then check on Scorpius, though he was no longer a child in need of coddling. If Scorpius ever came to harm he would never forgive himself. His son, at times, was the only thing that kept him going. The plan had only allowed a few days of him disappearing. Three days he'd been under Mary's care, three days of Scorpius being told wait and no reason as to why.He was an intelligent boy but not very patient.Harry all but collapsed onto his seat and sighed, face scrunched. Draco wondered if he looked that old but no, he wore his years with more grace. Like the insult was heard, Harry jolted to life and scrawled on the official documents in a manner Draco wouldn’t have done even as a child. After a time of scratching, pausing to bite the damned quill, he huffed to a stop in a flourish Draco hadn't thought him capable since school.Scorpius wouldn't wait for much longer. As a well known fact: Scorpius had told Albus about him missing. Whether the two were bashing their heads together to figure it out or whether Albus was simply letting Scorpius fret was neither here nor there. Draco had to return soon or else. The Dark Artefacts were by in large abandoned and he wouldn't put it past another bunch to try their luck in stealing them.The Rings of Celius were powerful and needed to be kept from everyone's hands. Maybe he should have told Scorpius to destroy them if he didn't reappear within a specific time frame. Plan B’s were in place but none considered Draco captured in a literal gilded cage.“Why didn’t your owner register you? Right. You need a name.” Harry scratched his neck and Draco hoped he’d put more time into coming up with a name than what mess he’d made of that form. If Harry decided on Sugarlumps, Draco would murder Potter right here.“Owliver? Owlton?”Draco would apologise to Albus, he was going to kill his father. He refused to believe he’d been degraded to a pun. This should count as abuse, made illegal and have an Azkaban sentence carried alongside it. Potter was the worst.Harry smiled back. “Okay, okay, settle. I was kidding!” He waved Draco down and indeed Draco calmed from his wild flapping. Prolonging this situation was too much. Get on with it, Potter.Harry flicked through files which sat high and in disarray on his desk and Draco couldn’t believe the idea he was about to be named over either a victim or a perpetrator.Maybe it was fitting.“Fornax?”Draco hooted. It wasn’t the worst. It also wasn’t very good but Draco really needed to move this conversation on.“Okay, Fornax, you’re written up. I’ll take you back to mine. I doubt anyone would find you then.”Draco was quiet as everyone relaxed as Harry Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World left. Potter didn't acknowledge a single person on his way to the Floos and no one regarded this with any ire. But Draco noticed the way Potter’s magic flared just as he got to the fireplace and how a witch ahead of the queue flinched.Travelling in a human body was disorientating. Travelling as a bird with senses greater than that of the typical wizard was excruciating. A flurry of colours burning into his head, a swirling sense of vertigo and the terrible sound of Harry arriving and landing in his own Floo.Draco should have closed his eyes and kept them shut for the remainder of his stay.Potter’s home was a mess. Never mind Draco knew this wasn’t the home he shared with his wife or the one where his children were reared and taught. Where was this and why had Potter returned to bachelor behaviour that didn’t show any responsibility for anyone, including his own person? And what was that smell?What was going on with Potter? Did the Weaslette leave him? Why the animosity among his staff?These questions were not important. What was important was Potter to disappear for an hour or so, allow Draco to leave and return to the Manor and check on the Dark Artefacts in his home. Then he could round up the morons who didn’t know how old wizarding houses worked. Did they not realise they were not just an alarm? The only error on Draco’s part was someone had seen his animagus form and that was easily solved by refuting it in a certain manner. His wand was back at the Manor. No one would assume Draco Malfoy Ex-Death Eater would want to change himself into a damned owl and leave his wand. They probably expected it more likely for him to appear as a Dementor.The last spell cast was an Incendio.First, Draco gave his feathers a proper groom because he had standards. Even if Potter's had clearly dropped into overflowing sinks with as many dishes as possible. The pain in his wing was a resounding ouch, swollen at a joint and sore to move. News of him being flightless over this injury was concerning but transforming back into a human would take little time and even less to brew a potion or cast a spell to relieve him of a human injury.The lack of acknowledgement meant Draco could peck at the latch on his leg. Undoing the leather knot was difficult with a beak. Twisting his head this way and that, pulling and pecking it finally fell away.Harry was bizarre. A fact Draco saw behind his bars for an hour. He’d sit and zone out. Draco knew that look. It was the one everyone had back when the war was still fresh and the wounds had no time to scab. The haunted look reminded Draco of his youth, his terribly played out youth. If he had a choice, Draco wasn’t going to think back to that moment in time. If he looked back he would remember Astoria. Her laugh and smile. Not how much of a naive moron, led by fear and panic and the instilled ideal he was better and greater than everyone else. He was better than everyone else, just for different reasons than his Father had known.Bored, not curious, Draco cried out to gain attention. Potter ignored him or more likely didn’t hear him.Draco did not do ‘ignored’.He made a horrible shriek and took enjoyment from the jump Harry made out of his skin. Potter rubbed his face with his hands, “I’m fine. I'm fine.” The hearing of an owl was impeccable and so Draco knew they were words to soothe his own frantic mind than for soothing of precious ‘Fornax’.Merlin, was Potter ill? It wasn't contagious was it?“Okay, okay. I’ll set up the post.”Draco expected magic, even it floating over the cage and maybe, giving him a curious prod depending on what sort of spells Potter decided on. What he got was Potter not making a move for his wand and just waving his hand. Like magic was easy enough to-- Did Potter just-- That-- all wandless? What was this? What kind of party trick was this? What even kind of power did--The owl perch from the Emporium stuck itself together piece by piece and not once did Draco hear Potter speak, see his wand or even look focused. Draco shrieked again at the injustice of it all. Potter doing more miraculous nonsense, of bloody course. Why couldn’t he be an impotent hermit who couldn’t levitate a feather?Magic in the air tingled over his sore wing and for a second Draco was trapped in the memories of being hit from behind. Of falling out of the sky in a tailspin, hearing the crowd make noise, his own screams of panic intertwined with the owls cries, and the ever warm blood that soaked into his feathers. He'd tried his best not to break his neck and landed terribly on his wing, feathers decorated the cobblestone of Diagon Alley.Mary had been the only one to take action, covering Draco with the very cloak she had. Under no illusions, Draco was certain he wouldn't have bothered. He might think it a damn shame or shoo Scorpius away in case the kid got involved in something less than ideal. But no, Draco would have left himself to die. Odd, when he thought it like that.He'd buy Mary a new cloak, one without the remnants of owl blood.Potter opened the cage. Gilded and polished it must have cost a pretty Galleon but it wasn’t fun to be inside, with no space to fully spread his wings. Not waiting for a prompt or any order from Harry - he could try and Draco wondered if it would be too suspicious if he did the exact opposite of what Harry asked of him - he flew over to the post. Petty, certainly, Draco knew he was and having Harry order him around was not happening, owl form or no.The Floo roared to life. Draco knew something was terribly wrong with Scorpius the second his face appeared in the green fire.“Scorpius? What can I do for you?" Harry orbited the fire, behaviour that made Draco think he might actually be embarrassed about this mess."I - it might be best to talk in person. If that's okay with you, Mr. Potter." Scorpius sounded too distressed and in turn, Draco paced on his stand. When he arrived Scorpius didn’t so much as glance at the horrendous conditions. How often did Scorpius go to Potter for advice? What was wrong? Why was his son here? Why hadn’t he said something on Potter’s strange living conditions? Albus was the only linking factor, and it was possible, probable, Scorpius promised to never speak of - this - to anyone. Fine. Draco wasn’t going to be angry over his kid having friends who knew he could keep secrets."Have you seen my father lately?""I haven't seen him in months.”Scorpius unleashed an array of panic ranting, a telling sign he’d worked himself into this state. Over three days, Draco was supposed to be back by now. Guilt weighed more heavily than anything else."He's missing. I found his wand in the study - it was on fire. The desk was on fire. All his work - just gone and now he is too and he left his wand! How is he supposed to protect himself?"No reference to a note. More than worrying but now edging towards the most likely scenario. Scorpius shouldn’t be so freaked out if Draco’s message got to him. The Manor hadn’t done its job and it prickled at his mind. Why bloody well not?"Okay, calm down. Let's start from the beginning. You found his wand?"Annoying how easily his wand passed hands, Draco watched carefully. Was Potter going to use more wandless magic now?"Prior Incantato.” The air became hotter and Draco sneezed as magic wrote itself in the air, dust burning. “Sounds like he destroyed his own work." Just as Draco planned, nothing would hint at his escape. Most would assume apparation or a Portkey. "The wards were down, seven people forced their way through the threshold. It's not some prank that he's decided to leave without a word," Scorpius snapped, he may have heard the thinking Potter and confused it with the dismissive. Not anything Draco could blame the boy for: Potter thinking was rare.When he did, it was usually on point."I didn't say it was.” Harry stared at the word, ‘Incendio’, that clung to the air. “If he destroyed the work himself, it means he took steps to make sure they didn't get what they wanted. So it’s possible that he knows who they were or why they attacked the Manor in the first place."Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn."What was he working on?""Just some theory on some of the magic items we have.” Draco didn’t miss the slight wince on his son’s face and he was sure neither did Harry. "The Dark ones, not sure which,” Scorpius said after a time. If Draco had a list of what he didn’t like witnessing it was Scorpius in pain or uncomfortable because all he remembered was the kid who never strayed far and ducked his head low to try to ignore the whispers of his ‘real’ lineage. The one who cried at night wondering if he’d been bad.Harry and Scorpius stood awkwardly together as Draco’s wand was returned and all Potter did was fold his arms and strain himself. Recognition dawned on Scorpius’ face."That's your owl?" Scorpius’ voice shot higher and Draco bristled. That meant he was surprised and intrigued and those were never a good combination. Draco had thought he had managed to remain mostly unseen to everyone, including his son."Excuse me? No, no. You've seen it before?" Igniting Harry’s interest was not safe. This was spiralling out of Draco’s control.Harry didn’t stop Scorpius from coming over and hovering close to the post. Draco was well accustomed to the expression of Scorpius wanting to coo and pet over an animal. The day Draco refused to buy a crup was a war in itself. Tears, snot, screaming - Draco wanted that day to end because he had considered he was being an awful father, worse than his own. The first few months of Astoria’s death was rough on both of them."It keeps near the Manor though I've never seen it in the Owlery. Never seen it with letters either." Scorpius didn’t try anything, but Draco knew he was assessing how sore a bite from an owl was versus how soft their feathers were. "It was attacked by Dark Wizards.""That doesn't seem like a coincidence.""No." Potter looked away, frowning into the Floo and Draco wished he could apparate. "It doesn't.” The paranoia returned as Potter glared. At him. Potter couldn’t possibly know, couldn’t possibly work this out."I'll come with you to the Manor, check things out."Scorpius had brightened considerably and Draco felt soothed by it. Distressing him was never a point in the plan. Why hadn’t the Manor done what he had asked of it? Perhaps those who attacked were smarter than the average thug. Draco would need to deal with this now. If the Manor’s magics were deteriorating then the rings wouldn’t be secure for long.Timing, this could all have went smoother. But for Potter to go to the Malfoy Manor then the Floo was the only way. Albus was the only Potter allowed to apparate in and out as he pleased. By that extension, it seemed the Potters agreed and Scorpius seemed to disappear and reappear to their home too.Soon as Potter and Scorpius stood in the Floo, Draco swooped forward. But the Manor’s wards disliked that, and Draco could hear the pitched whine at the three of them arriving in his foyer.Grime and soot covered his feathers now. But Draco had a mission, make sure to appease Scorpius’ worry. His wing ached and by the time he fluttered to the ground he admitted his time of flying grand open areas were over. Walking wasn’t the quickest but it gave time for Draco to squash his own worry over his injury. Three days was a long time for a wizarding owl to be injured. What spell had that idiot cast on him?Scorpius watched him with renewed interest. Good. He hooted for Scorpius to follow."Where are you going?" Scorpius asked but must have known it odd for him, Fornax, to wish to go to the study. The place where his father was last, where his wand was hidden and documents gone.Draco left the letter up the study’s own fireplace. One which should have released it and sent it straight to Scorpius as it was asked. If it hadn’t, then Draco needed to know if his house wasn’t listening or simply could not follow the order. All one person had to do was look up the chimney to see which it was.Now, the study looked much different from how he had left it. The positive: the study itself was no longer on fire. But the wall fashioned into bookcases were emptied and their contents strewn about the room. Journals of potions and benign ingredients were ruined and thrown around. His desk once the very centrepiece, a mere shadow of itself with burnt handles and a mass of ash being its other half. They’d certainly tried to look for Draco’s now destroyed notes.He waddled to the fireplace, looked up and gave a scream at the house. The letter was still there! What did the Manor think it was doing ignoring an order? How dare it ignore him. What did it think it was doing? Draco tried, once then twice then three times to hop up, fly and push himself high enough to catch the letter. His wing was agony and he yelled at the fireplace to let the letter go. It did not listen.Harry had followed, quiet, and that was unsettling. So, Draco edged away from the watchful eyes of an Auror with more than a decades experience and hid under the half-desk. Potter wouldn’t figure this out. He shouldn’t figure this out. Draco wouldn’t hear the end of this.The fact it was Potter who checked the fireplace first and not Scorpius irked. It was Scorpius’ home, he had found the wand too. No, if Potter had the letter, then it was possible he could assume what was best and hide it from Scorpius. Or just take it from him. No. No. That wouldn’t do at all.Potter wasn’t expecting Fornax to hop up onto the table and try again to swoop. It failed. Draco failed, as much as the letter was in his beak and Potter was (hilariously) shocked at a random owl barrage, Draco fell. Fell out of the air as if he was a creature that wasn’t meant for it. He expected to crash into Manor’s marble, the cold and harsh ground of centuries built. He wished he had smashed into it. Knocked himself out so he didn’t need to process that Potter had grabbed him with that - utterly ridiculous - magic and levitated him.And everything else. When he noticed even Scorpius, every damn book and every loose page was up in the air, Draco was livid, floating in the air and unable to move. That bastard.“Sorry,” Harry said, looking uncomfortable, but nowhere near the level after Draco pecked his eyes out. How dare he use magic on his son. But Scorpius shrugged it off, as if it was an everyday occurrence for wandless, wordless magic to be cast in such a way.“Dad used to shatter the china after mum died for a while.”Wait. Was Ginny Potter ill? Dying? No, Draco was sure Hermione would have said something.The magic diminished slowly, Harry couldn’t just switch it off. It took a few minutes for his talons to touch the ground but he was no longer enraged. He knew what Astoria had cost him: years of moping in private and wanting to be left alone. He didn’t wish that on anyone. Still, he would remind his son uncontrollable magic was dangerous regardless of the moral compass it came from."It must have sensed an unsent letter." Scorpius squatted down and Draco dropped it. It tasted like ash but all he could smell was Potter. That magic of his was insufferable. "It's from dad!"Scorpius read the letter aloud, enthusiasm waning as he went: "The Manor isn't safe. Stay away until I find you. Take what you need. Don't trust Boris.""Who's Boris?"Boris wasn’t anyone, any more. The man once called Boris Boon was no longer welcome in the British Wizarding World. Draco had seen his true face, one he’d tried to hide in order to befriend Scorpius. All so he could pilfer from the Manor. Well, tried to, and even then Draco was being generous. Only a twenty-something idiot would believe he'd bested the Malfoys and the Manor had rejected the fool as soon as he’d neared the Dark Artefacts. Idiot didn’t realise Scorpius was a trusting soul but he wasn’t stupid. These days mentioning Boris only meant one thing."It's..." Scorpius paused, regarded Draco again. "Advice from before. I think he wrote it to try to lighten the mood. Stop me from being too worried."Sadly, Scorpius was a terrible liar. Potter showed patience, not reproaching him as soon as the lie hit the air."Hiding things doesn't make investigating easier.""I know and I'm not! It's just a private matter." Scorpius stuffed the parchment into his pocket. Harry didn’t push, for whatever reason and looked around the office. Begrudgingly, Draco admitted he probably knew enough to piece together that the message had a double meaning and not one Scorpius would give up without a fight. Going by the way Potter’s magic rumbled through the Manor’s wards, it was enough to know Scorpius wouldn’t stand a chance if Harry really wanted the answer.Scorpius looked at him then glanced at Harry’s back, before he mouthed the word ‘Dad’.Emotion fluttered inside him, knowing Scorpius had figured it all out. He hooted twice. The boy might have involved Potter but it was a Malfoy motto that family was first in all things. Scorpius wouldn’t say a word because now he knew Draco was safe.“You’re the most adorable owl I’ve ever seen.”Scorpius laughed even as Draco puffed up, ego bruised.
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If anyone thought Potter’s life was a whirlwind of drama and action then Draco would rewrite the report he slept on the couch, half eaten toast - more charcoal than bread - smooshed under his shoulder. At last, he was asleep, a few words punctuating garbled noises. Nightmares or not, Draco needed Potter to stay as unconscious for as long as possible.Returning here had terrible repercussions. Potter had wandered around the Manor, Draco had to admit he’d lost track that Harry was even there. A fact Draco blamed on his owl form, keen to seek out everything that moved and go for a single, focussed, target than multiple. Scorpius and the intruders were on his mind more than the nosey pillock but now it dawned on him Potter might believe ‘Fornax’ was no ordinary owl.First, and only thing Draco would do in this house was find a room to change out of this form. His wing ached worse than ever and he was hopeful to apparate out of this skip. He hopped off the post, Potter not bothering to re-secure him was a choice, one Draco knew was spawned by curiosity rather than ownership. Did he really think Fornax was just a regular owl? Draco hadn’t thought too much into the manners of owls before. The longest in this form was six hours. It was nearing the fourth day.The bathroom was down the hall, Draco found it fit his needs well enough. A lock, considering Draco wandless wouldn’t stop an incredibly curious Harry Potter, but it would give him some time. Potter wasn’t keen to clean his place, but putting holes and tearing doors of their hinges must be below even his new reluctance in presentation. So, Draco was content to morph back into his human form.Magic crawled over him, his brown speckled wings stretching for only a moment before a blood-curdling scream escaped and Draco’s wing flared in pain most dark. The only way to stop it was to stop the transformation.‘No! You bloody bastards!’They had not just been aware of his animagus form - they had waited for him to turn. Damn it! Perhaps, his destruction of the notes really was all that was stopping them from stealing the rings right now. Was he stuck as an owl? No, he could turn back, he had to-- Again, Draco took a calming breath, trying as he might to ignore the thought of more pain. As soon as the magic twinged again, he stopped, falling like a stunned bird onto his face.He was an owl. The magic did not respond on his third or fourth attempt. His fifth or sixth and Draco wondered how he couldn’t see how coincidentally the fools had opened fire only after Draco flung himself out of a window.The Master and Owner of Malfoy Manor… was an owl.He had to tell Potter he was trapped. An ordinary owl could understand language very well. But they couldn’t write and so Draco knew to convince Harry of this, he’d have to write with his feet. Make an arrow, write his first name and that would be it done. Potter would ask Granger how to fix him and all would be well.Squeaking as it opened, the bathroom door revealed Harry’s bright eyes - which didn’t look as if he’d been asleep at all - the hair did, as if he’d woke up two minutes before, that mess hadn’t changed. Draco was forever grateful for the owls ability to turn its head in such a manner as he tried again, to look as unimpressed with Harry’s interruption in his crisis as possible.“You’re a very weird owl, Fornax. What are you doing in here? Did you fall?”Draco twitched his feet, pain threatened to reappear and so he stayed perfectly still waiting for his own magic to ease away. The curse itself, some form of binding spell perhaps, maybe. If he had looked back at the wizard who cast it. It would make this much easier to guess but Draco had flew away, content and ignorant.Damn it. Draco twisted his head back to the cool floor. At least this was comforting, this non-marble, non-cobblestone ground. The curse was on his left wing, he was sure of it. The pain was severe there for days. Leaching into the rest of him like an owed favour.“Come on you,” Harry said, grabbing a towel from the radiator as he knelt down to scoop him up.This was awful - the towel was fluffy and warm and not so awful and soothed the sharp pains that ran up his legs and down his wings. But Potter cooing over him was not on.The toast had smooshed into Harry’s shoulder quite well.Carried back to the living room - or Harry’s makeshift bedroom, Draco let out some shrieks of annoyance. Not in pain but a reminder to Potter he could still bite his fingers off. He was set down on the coffee table and Draco didn’t take too kindly with the image of his own blood on the towel.“You did hurt yourself!” Harry actually looked hurt himself.Draco pecked at his wing a little, pulling out a feather before Potter got overly concerned and pushed his hand over the spot. As if Draco wouldn’t bite the damned thing.“No, don’t do that - I’ll have a look.”Blood on his feathers was hard to sense like the first snow falling on hair - he didn’t really know it was there unless he looked in a mirror or heavy enough to seep through. Blood was warm but with such a condensed and thick assortment of feathers, Draco didn’t feel it as much as the pinching pain around his skin.Potter pushed and moved feathers aside, in a way that was painful. Curiosity held him there, not to make a noise and to watch Potter’s face to see if he knew what the wizard cast upon him.“This wasn’t here before...” Draco heard Harry’s words and hooted a swear. He should have known it was taking too long for his wing to heal. A curse, one set off when an animagus tried to transform back. The end result? Draco had no idea.“Don’t worry, we’ll get you fixed up.”Potter being nice to him was weird. And it was all on Draco’s part because Potter was just fixing up a wounded owl like Mary, he was just doing his job: to keep a piece of evidence safe from the scum of the Wizarding World. That set a series of ideas off - Harry had no idea Draco was the bird. Harry had no idea he was being ridiculous over the health of Draco and when, if, he ever found out--Harry had shown mercy twice. What told Draco that he’d give it a third? The man ran a department that didn’t cut (bureaucratic) corners (now). What wasn’t to stop Harry throwing him to Azkaban for being unregistered? Revealing himself as in control of his sentience was a point against the defence he’d been forcibly transformed by someone else.No. Draco would handle this himself, like he’d done before.Potter actually produced his wand for spellcasting this time.“Episkey.”Magic that was ‘Dark’ had an edge of pain towards everything, a sense of wrongness and weight that didn’t happen with most spells. Funnelling in negative emotions, worse experience and traumatic memories all culminated into a casting that would fail or turn wicked.The magic didn’t even take more than a second to surround Draco and for him to notice it was just that - wrong. The healing spell set off waves of breath-interrupting, just-screaming torture. Owl or not, Slytherin or not, Draco dived under the couch with a sound he was sure he’d never make again.“I’m so sorry, that - that was supposed to--” Harry scrambled after him, but whatever useless apologies was on his lips didn’t make it over a constant buzzing noise in the air.‘Stay away, Potter!’ Draco shrieked again, though couldn’t tell how fierce or bold his attempt was. Everything was dark, the sound louder and his skin on fire so much so each feather that touched it set off another cascade.A madman was what he was. Mad as a bag of weasels! The spinning of the room shunted his balance violently with each step and Draco shut his eyes, the vertigo too much to deal with along with a wing that might just fall off. Or be pecked off because right now, it was the pain-free path.Potter tried to coax him out. Draco could hear him now, a chant of apologises that didn’t make anything better. Everything hurt. When the floorboards under his own talons thudded, he peeked out to see Potter at the Floo. Distressed didn’t give the man’s stricken expression justice, he was paler than he’d ever seen him - and everyone thought him dead that time.“Hermione, I need you over here.”“Harry? You look pale. Is everything alright?”“I just hurt an owl by mistake.”Hermione might have replied, she might not have but another skull splinting sound made Draco hide further away - it was the Floo’s magic this time that set off another ripple of pain all over.“He’s hiding under the couch.”“This the one who had a wizard try to kill it while you and Ron were in the shop?” Draco heard Hermione walk closer only to be greeted by her as she flattened a cheek to the floor. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken with her - a discussion on house elves perhaps - or some other magical creature - it wasn’t a problem regardless on which. But Draco didn’t like seeing Hermione’s face, it reminded him too much of everything he used to be and think he was.“Yeah, yeah been cursed. It was bleeding, I cast an Episkey spell.” Potter sounded terribly upset over this and if he was Slytherin back in the day, Draco would have thought it an act.Hermione cooed and him and he edged away. Until Potter was calm, Draco wasn’t risking it. Under the couch was safe, for now. The owl part of him must have found more comfort in that logic and his feathers fell flat.“Come on, little fella--” Granger received a sharp look and a threat to keep those fingers away.“I think it might be Draco Malfoy’s.” Harry saying his name had Draco move forward a little, curious and also cautious to see if this was just a test. An elaborate plan to see if he had sentience. Potter co-ordinated plans with several departments, it wasn’t outside his capabilities.“Why Draco’s?” Hermione saying his name was always… not fine. Her saying his name after everything just kept proving how much more of a mature adult she was than him. At no times did he ever think of her as - as the - as the term - from back when. But Granger was common for him to denounce her with, especially with the marriage with Weasley.“His son is the only one it hasn’t tried to murder with a glare.”“I am getting quite the fierce one, aren’t I?” Hermione laughed and Draco shuffled. He hadn’t been aware his emotions had shown in owl form. He’d never tried to communicated before this mess. Her laughing sounded a little too... close, if he was in his human form - he would have laughed with her.Granger tried again, calling him and talking about how she’ll write a letter he could deliver - and Draco had to wonder how many owls were happy with the sheer expectation of flying around. He missed it terribly already and he wasn’t born a bird. Just a coward.“What are you--” Hermione looked back and as she sat on the heels of her feet, Draco lost sight of both their faces. “Harry, no one thinks you would have a cast a spell if you thought even for a second that it could hurt the poor thing.”And then everything went quite nicely into Voldemort-crazy-land.“I didn’t think, that’s the problem! I never think of this but it does it anyway!” The whole room rumbled, the mess on the floor wound up and twisted, wrung out till the seams of the clothing were ripped and thrown around the room. The glass in the cupboards shattered and everything that could count as a door or container burst open with such announcement Draco nearly passed out from the noise of them thudding against one another. “Why is this happening?”Broken, that’s what Potter was. Why the Aurors had no need for their superior, why the magic with Scorpius was even possible. No one needed to look at his face to hear that Potter knew it too. Hermione did what no Slytherin would have done, she repaired, replaced and put back everything without a word passing between her or Potter. She was the only one talking for an eternity, speaking her incantations clearly and efficient. Harry didn’t appear to do anything but sulk against a wall and Draco had a thought to slap the moron on the back of the head and tell him it’s his anger that does this bullshit more than not. Sadness had a way of cracking, crinkling and shattering items but this--Why wasn’t Ginny doing this? Where was she in this? What was this magical emotional mess? Scorpius spoke the truth back at the Manor but Draco’s magic had been on the china plates Astoria both cherished and loathed. He’d broken all but two dessert plates by the time he got a hang of his grief. A plate every few days then weeks, then a month or so, then another.“There we go, nothing to worry about.” Hermione returned to where she was, trying to encourage dear ‘Fornax’ out of his hiding spot. “Now, this curse. Ron said there wasn’t anything wrong with it but a wing.” Draco wondered if Hermione would know what curse it was just with a glance.It wasn’t as if Draco expected Harry to ignore the question and sulk more but it was how normal he sounded that was the alarm bell. Draco peeked out from beneath the couch to see what had calmed Potter down from yelling at a best friend despite her unconditional help to talking about the damn owl he’d ‘tortured’ twenty minutes ago. He edged forward again, trying to piece together what was going on with Potter without ‘Fornax’ being the centre of attention.“The curse must have activated when he was in the bathroom a little while ago. He was in there, heard a noise and thought he fell or tried to fly about and maybe hit something.”Ah, it was Potter’s Auror training, his face twisted and thinking hard on whatever question asked of him. Not dealing with whatever mess his head was in.“Well, what activated it?”“I have no idea.” Harry shrugged a shoulder. “Time?”Magic had and now Draco knew for certain the hit on his shoulder hadn’t been a lucky shot but a planned and premeditated action. Damn it, they did - they actually got one over on him.“I should hand this over to you and Ron to look after. Thing’s probably terrified of me now.”Not to say Draco wasn’t freaked out at the sheer lack of control, no. It was the power and extent of Harry’s magic that was the fearing part. A wizard or witch out of control might burn a letter or set a curtain on fire. They did not attack the house in several different ways at the same time. What kind of power did Potter have? This was-- it was wrong to wield this kind of power.Hermione held out a hand, a treat of meat on it and Draco ignored it. He wasn’t happy with this revelation, not keen to share the real situation with one of the smartest witches of his time -- not happy at all to be stuck because someone planned better -- but he had no intention of being passed over to Weasley. He’d stay here because if Harry’s lack of control counted for anything, it meant even if someone did appear to kill him. Potter wouldn’t even have to use his wand to defeat them. He might blow up the house in the process but Draco wasn’t against such revenge. If he had to go out as an owl, so be it but he wanted those who might cause his family harm out of the way too.“Alright, I’m going to cast a diagnostic spell on him. That way we can find out if it’s just healing spells, or if it was just your magic, Harry.”“No, it might hurt him again.” Draco had self-control, self-control that would stop him violently nodding his head to agree with one Harry bloody Potter.“I’m not doing this to be cruel but if all magic directed to this owl results it any kind of pain then it’s most likely a bigger piece to your investigation than you realise. Why else put a timer-like curse on an owl that rejects healing magic?”“They really want it dead.” Harry sounded like he wanted to cry and Draco decided he wanted Hermione to cast whatever spell it was. She didn’t have the correct activation method but she could help Draco know if his time as an owl would be limited severely. If this curse really did keep him as an animal and without the ability to heal even from other witches and wizards, that was not good. This got too complicated too fast.“It’s going to a really weak, little spell, okay. Promise.”Draco closed his eyes, waited for the pain, the dizziness, that infernal noise but nothing happened. Magic touched on his wing and as much as he could tell, because it had been hurting thanks to Potter, it didn’t exacerbate it in any way. She really was the smarter one.“It worked.” Hermione’s shock removed all admiration she’d built up over today.“It worked.” Harry’s venom would make an adder blush.“Harry, it doesn’t mean--” Granger stood up, but didn’t manage to say the rest in time.“It doesn’t? I think if anything it shows exactly why--” the couch shook and Draco ducked under the coffee table, eager to hide from any stray magic just in case it set his curse off again.“Harry!”Draco stayed where he was, ignoring the arguing the best he could and hoping that Granger wouldn’t upset Potter. She left not ten minutes after with a huff and Harry yelling after her.Potter needed help: why wasn’t his wife here?Astoria’s illness had been rough and in turn so much as a cough had Draco want to whisk her away to some quiet place for her to rest. She wouldn’t have liked that very much, mind.Draco had heard Harry mumble away to himself, trying to argue points made in his previous argument. No, he didn’t care for any of that at all. Potter should shut up with his petty replies and apparent ‘cruelty’ because honestly, the self-flagellation was already overdone.‘Oh, pull yourself together you miserable git.’Draco was stuck as an owl for now - and it seemed so long as no one tried to cast magic on him - then he was safe. Considering Potter’s reaction, how he avoided to be within the same room as him, this was an easily kept to condition.Hours passed and now, Draco hated the idea he was seen as cheap, fragile china.Years ago Draco would tell his son pranks were a waste of time, not when he could read something and learn a new wonder in the world. Right now, Draco waddled into the kitchen, peeked around the cabinet corner and watched Potter try and make tea while fighting off what could only be a nervous breakdown. Pain for pain sake, revenge was sweet and Slytherin ambition all played a key part in his decision.So Draco bit Potter on the ankle and Potter yelled, spilled the tea down his side and battered his head off an overhead cabinet. Draco looked up at the ceiling and hooted in triumph. The Saviour ended up with his back to the wall and hit leg twisted over another as he tried to assess the damage.“I probably deserved that.” He didn’t sound annoyed which took some of the fun out of the achievement. “My magic hurts people. Sorry.” For a second, Draco froze as it appeared Harry was going to try and pet him on the head only to back off at the last moment. The smile Potter wore reminded Draco of Scorpius -- when he’d asked that one time if he had been bad and why else would people not want their kids to talk to him? -- and Draco decided then, he couldn’t have hated Potter more.He returned to the living room, sat on his post and then the box came to life.What was that? A series of photographs - but they didn’t register either Draco or Potter watching. Draco sat and watched both, the box with its strange images and Potter with some non-wand and tapping away and changing the images on his own. Potter settled on some pictures that dealt with food. Draco settled onto the back of the couch, changing the angle and twisting his head to the side. The image did not change like a photograph depending on where someone was in the room.“You must be hungry. I haven’t seen you eat anything.”Draco then only remembered he was supposed to eat and not once had a pang of hunger reminded him.
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Potter did what he always seemed to when he noticed a problem. A whirlwind of action, far too undirected with no Weasley or Granger here to rudder the energy into something useful and so no difference in the outcome was made by midnight: Draco couldn’t eat. Whatever cuts of meat, carcasses of rodents or treats Draco tried promptly fell out of his mouth and slithered away itself. The back of his throat twinged each time. He couldn’t swallow the food but at the same time held no real distress over it - he wasn’t hungry, although eating was going to catch up sooner or later. The lack of returning to his human form was a more pressing matter. If Draco wasn’t in view to those fools soon enough - then Scorpius could be made priority. He was an adult now, accessing the family Vaults was nothing the goblins would find suspicious.Or was Scorpius always the target? Was this curse just a way to keep him out of the way?Either way, it was safe to surmise that Giannini Quartz probably knew about Draco’s animagus form well before he’d sent his son and his cronies into the Manor. A spell that made him unable to eat and begin once Draco tried to return wasn’t the greatest worry. The Rings of Celius were still in the house. Fake ones might sit in plain sight, beckoning the idiots to steal those two. Once they found out the fakes did nothing, then they’d return for the rings and -- if Draco wasn’t back in human form, Scorpius. That could not happen.“You can’t keep spitting everything out.” Harry tried to scold him as he sat against the coffee table. Draco’s talons clicked on the glass as he took another look at the meat, wondering if this was all paranoia. Too many things pointed towards Moran and his men knowing not only his animagus but where he would be exactly during the home invasion. How could he explain that one? Luck? The very reason seven people hurtled into the house in succession? Not knowing was another strike against him. Against keeping Scorpius safe.It wasn’t until the room shook again did Draco stop to see how terribly Potter was taking this. What was this guy’s deal with owls anyway? An owl not eating for a day was hardly noteworthy. Potter was taking it like a new personal failing. Potter tried to -- Draco wasn’t sure but he backed away from Potter’s hand. Harry stopped and sighed before turning back to the box. Music was playing from it and Draco had to admit Muggles were curious if not tone deaf. Why were people cooking? The box died then, whatever death not-spell the un-wand Harry forced upon it.Potter could use magic, accidental or not and Draco glanced back at his face just to make sure no tantrums were on their way. Just so he knew if he had to jump under the couch again. Harry was thinking about something; Draco couldn’t be sure that was a positive on his part. Whatever stopped Harry from forcing a head scratch on Draco (annoying trait by the noisy patrons of the Emporium) was interrupted by the man jumping up to his feet, “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get someone.”Then he apparated.Another person to prod and poke at him, fantastic. Just open up a show, sell tickets. Hermione wasn’t too bad but if it turned out Weasley or Longbottom he might die of embarrassment. The place still a mess and he was off trying to grab someone to come home and check out an owl that was too picky an eater. What kind of people put up with Potter?Draco hopped onto the back of the couch again, clicked the same un-wand as Harry but was confused on how it didn’t rouse the box from its slumber. He tried again. Nothing. He wanted to see what happened to the cake. He’d missed three meals now, something Draco hadn’t even done as a Death Eater. Still not a grumble from his stomach.Pop, pop, and Draco turned around to see if his fate lay with Longbottom or Weasley.It was neither.“--an Australian--” Harry was cut off.“No he isn’t. They don’t have grey eyes,” Luna said as she slipped off a thick scarf. Draco didn’t want to seem too excited at seeing her, not if he was going to blame this later on not having any sentience or memory of this whole debacle. She was dressed warm, snow sprinkled on her hat and shoulders as if newly landed.Luna was one of the few who Draco held any real affection for - Hermione had his respect and impressed him nearly each week - but it was Luna’s forgiveness that had done more in helping Draco pick up the pieces of what he wanted himself to be, of the man he could be. If not for Luna’s reply, Draco wouldn’t have bothered to have sent letters to everyone who deserved an apology. Unlike Luna’s gracious response most returned unanswered and some unread. But her lacking in revenge, in hate for keeping her in the Manor’s dungeon was a kindness Draco wouldn’t feel again for years later.She watched him, possibly with larger and clearer eyes than his own. And he waited for her to say her piece. Why Harry assumed Luna could help, he wasn't sure. Maybe she was the only one he knew that might be awake at this time. Wherever she was these days.Potter’s testimony helped him stay out of Azkaban. All that did was make him realise how much of child he’d been throughout Hogwarts and the war. He thought there would be glory. Glory in death and torture, lording over the weaker, the less ‘pure’ in a manner he had never experienced before. He was special, his father taught him. So why was he shaking at the feet of some other wizard doing what he ordered?“Then what is he?”“A cursed owl.” Ah, there it was. Luna’s wit that had come through even in her letter (once claiming the Manor was lovely, if not for the Death Eaters and threat of torture overshadowing it). Mad, loopy, crazy as a fox with rabies, Luna. Her age only made her whimsical way of speaking more difficult to distinguish between joke and fact.“Be careful, he bites.”Ha, as if he would. Not as if it hurt to make Harry Potter appear wrong. He cooed at her and accepted the pat over his beak with no qualms. He couldn’t see him but Draco heard Harry tut. Good.“It’s nice to meet you too.”“Sorry about this.” Harry apologising was weary and unneeded. Those facts didn’t deter him from looking just as guilty as when Hermione was here. Did he always apologise? Draco had no personal experience to back up either assumptions. Either this was common and unbelievably annoying or Potter was going through a phase. Phases should stop by the time someone ends growing, figures Potter had to ham it up more.“About what, Harry?” Luna asked as she wrapped her scarf around Draco - he didn’t mind even if it restricted his ability to flap his wings as she tied it in a firm knot. “If it’s quite alright with you, Mr. Owl, I’d like to see inside your mouth for a second.”Well, what did Draco have to lose? Pride notwithstanding but the faster he returned to his son, the better.“Lumos.” It was a small light, soft and not unpleasant for Draco to see so close to his face.“He’s usually… more prone to snapping and biting.”“I’m sure if you were to ask nicely he wouldn’t mind so much.” Draco caught the way Potter scowled at him. Was it possible these two had their own coded language? Had Luna just told him that Fornax was an animagus? “I see some rune engravings but I’m not sure what they mean.”Draco straightened up. Runes meant spells that were worked on a much more personal and specialised level than the typical charm. Custom-made curses - Draco should feel flattered.“Can you draw it?” Harry handed her parchment as the Lumos spell dwindled before Luna pocketed her wand.Draco wanted to see the runes himself, though Luna did not use a quill or ink. A Muggle contraption, most likely as it scratched against the parchment. He wasn’t Outstanding in them but they would give a glimmer of hope and knowledge as to what was really wrong. She was quick to make a copy and Harry rotated it in his hands as he looked at the runes. Draco had seen only three he recognised one was: everlasting, the second, magic, the last, bound. They were most certainly not good runes when dealing with a curse and a wizard and Harry’s expression mimicked it.It was unfinished, if anything. A pentagon with two missing runes at the lowest points - she probably couldn’t see them.“I’ve seen this before.” He scratched at his head, huffed a noise, “It’s a wasting curse, makes people go mad from hunger until their bodies just can’t go on.”The problem with such an accusation was Draco wasn’t feeling hunger - at all.“If he had this, only this, he’d be devouring everything not spitting it out.”Well, fine, Potter wasn’t that stupid.“Someone really doesn’t like you.” Luna smiled and Draco accepted another pat on the head. He wasn’t too keen at the idea someone was enjoying his suffering.Not eating like this spoke of a curse another one - a twofold, two layered curse with one spell strike was rare. This seemed too custom-made for Draco’s situation. The timer wasn’t an activator but now Draco knew time was a factor he couldn’t sit idly by and wait for the curse to eat itself away or for Potter to figure anything out.Whoever made this curse knew for certain two things: an animagus that would flee in animal form and to hinder the unregistered in staying in said form. Someone knew. Someone actually knew about him. That was -- pointless to panic over. The only thing Draco needed to concentrate on was--Mary. That bitch. Who else could it have been? She’d fed him food, perhaps laced with potions or poisons. Cast spells on his wing, or perhaps, she’d added another curse. She worked with owls, did she notice the strange eye colour too? Damn it. He shrieked, infuriated that he’d given her the time of day.Harry shuffled and Draco wondered if he was going to try and pass him over to Luna’s care as he had done to Hermione.“First time I've heard it coo. He hasn’t let anyone pet him like that before.”Malfoy’s do not coo (although Draco was close over a newborn Scorpius but was beaten by relief both baby and mother were okay). Was this a habit of delegating tasks or was this more deep-seated, in some poorly thought out act of kindness.“Oh, he’s probably a little annoyed to be treated like a silly owl. You know what’s going on, don’t you?” She gave him another scratch between his eyes and Draco did have to wonder. Did Luna know? All she did was smile at him and he knew why some people were unsettled by her. He couldn't get a read on anything she was thinking.Luna took in her surroundings only then, glancing at the worn and battered walls, the peeling paper. Harry noticed her averted attention and was about to speak but Luna, straightforward as ever stared Potter down. “Don’t worry, Harry. It keeps away the ickernickles.”“Right.” Harry rubbed his neck. “Thanks Luna.”“I can’t make out the other two. Looks like you’ll have to read some.” Luna undid the scarf around him. “You look tired Harry,” she said.“I am. A bit.”Luna gave Harry a hug - one not even he was expecting. It was awkward. They didn't normally hug, then. And they awkwardly said goodbye as Luna too, left Harry alone.“You aren’t going to maim me, are you?”‘No, you’re beating yourself up pretty well without my help.’ Draco wasn’t sure how he could try to provide Potter with any reason why this magic had to ruin his life. Why hadn’t Hermione thought of the using the seeds of the Casting Trees? She must have considered them despite their main use being potion ingredients. They were fine examples of how nature was inherently more magical than humanity. Why hadn’t Ginny been the one Potter whisked away in the night for help? Or the best friend that followed him into-- Wait when did Ron return to the Aurors? Draco was out of the loop so much he’d flat-lined.Potter was on the couch, palm of his hands in his eyes. “I’m going to lose everything.”Well, it would seem so. What was Hermione doing? She must know about how to deal with this. It was simple.Pop.Ginny appeared holding a cardboard box. They stared at each other in a silence (Potter in disbelief and Ginny like she’d been caught) which Draco didn’t interrupt even by moving. “Ginny,” Harry said, moving to stand up but slow as if Ginny was going to bolt. And she did, looking as if she was heading for the Floo. “No, wait--”“Later.”The lights flickered, hissed and went out and in the darkness Draco could make out both Ginny’s and Harry’s expressions well enough. She didn’t so much as place the box down as much as drop it.“Ginny! Please--” Harry stumbled, his shin hitting against the coffee table. All while Ginny retreated in the dark and yelled out again. The couch uplifted itself and rammed into the half-wall which linked to the kitchen, and a clock on the wall ripped and zoomed its way around the room tearing into the walls. Draco flailed on the table, settling his wings back and daring it to think of moving while he was on it.“We’ll talk later!”And then she was gone with a pop, and Draco knew why Ginny had left and yet did not know why -- she was scared. Of Potter? Accidental magic was bothersome at best. Unless he’d tried to cast a healing spell before, that had hurt at least. Ginny was another stubborn Gryffindor so why flee?Harry crumbled into himself like a soggy slice of bread.“Why is this happening?"Draco’s magical problems after his wife's death was not as emotional as Scorpius liked to assume - it certainly was a more romantic notion that way. But the reality was, Draco spent years using spells he wouldn’t have otherwise used and then to go from using them everyday to not left Draco with a magical core that had overcompensated for years and a will that was desperate to reach out and do something. Once he could acknowledge the death and start casting other spells, ones which dealt with the house or caring for his son was all he needed to stop the china incidents.Potter needed to exhaust himself, magically. Considering the scale of damage, well, it was easy to see that might be a challenge than casting a few repairing spells. Draco did not have time for him angsting over his magic. At times, Potter could be impressive but right now he was one thing: bloody pathetic.
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What manner of torture was this? Potter drinking himself into a stupor in front of the noisy box was one thing, having to watch it was another. For it was too reminiscent of a time Draco didn’t want to dwell on. No, he wouldn’t dare say he saw this, even if Potter did find out. Draco’d argue he blacked out, deny it till the end of days. Whatever could remove the reality that Draco was intruding. This might have had him laugh at fourteen, gleeful and arrogant to have Potter be miserable. Not after the war, not after the personal strife of losing Astoria and Scorpius hailed as a monster - that monster’s son. Not after growing up and not having the energy or fortitude to keep on hating and snarling at the world. And now Potter was staring at a box of pictures - coloured and sound intact - and acting like the war never left.Intruding didn’t cut it because then Potter would be aware of his lack of privacy. He could get mad and bitter. But here Draco was, stuck on his post with that latch round his leg again watching and - and knowing he shouldn’t see this. No one was supposed to see this, this broken Potter that needed someone to shove him in the direction of a Healer. Even if Draco knew nothing of Harry Potter’s routine there was no way Hermione knew of this. No way Ron hadn’t worked himself into a frenzy and apparated to double check on Harry - he didn’t know either. Either Potter’s magic ran rampant at home with impunity or his work environment allowed some magic, some of his twisted will to take a form that wasn’t ruining the architecture or furniture. Hermione and Ron perhaps, had only seen a fraction of how unbalanced his magic had grown.Maybe Draco had only seen that too - Ginny’s fearful face reminded him how attached the two were even in school. A floating chair, some blinking lights and some structural damage shouldn’t scare off Ginerva (he’d seen the woman angry and fierce and not backing down). Yet she’d fled. It wasn’t as if Draco was on terms with Potter even these days. Cordial chatter only about their sons. Anything else started bickering back and forth and near-duels that destroyed something nearby. At times, Draco avoided speaking to Hermione knowing her schedule enough to know Potter would be somewhere nearby. It was difficult to redeem himself, in anyone’s eyes, if he was picking a fight with Potter every second.Whatever the reason for Potter’s melancholy, to soak in a chair and drink - Draco knew that too and it was terribly difficult to loathe and curse and hate Potter when Draco was aware he’d done it too.The difference between them was Potter should have had someone here. Ginny or Ron, Hermione or Longbottom, Luna or -- someone. Draco drank and was awoken by the house elves and a hangover that didn’t remove any of the loss and the thought he had to raise Scorpius on his own. Scorpius as a child had too many habits that to Draco were Astoria’s. He didn’t like looking at his son’s face. So, Draco drank because that was a shitty thing to think, to even feel because the kid just lost his mother and the world responded with indifference and more questions on if Astoria had shagged Voldemort.Draco hadn’t handled the situation well. He wasn’t proud of it, wasn’t keen to share his pathetic mindset back then. No one pulled him out of it. That stood again to the testament of Astoria and her foresight, making sure to remind Draco that Scorpius was there because of her wishes. She was still a pillar and she’d died months ago then. But Potter should have someone here to yank him away from the box - that may have cast a spell on Potter as he hadn’t moved in a while - and sort out this magic issue if it was so damaging. Why, why, why hadn’t anyone bothered to give the bloke a few seeds of a bloody Casting Tree and be done with it. Why wasn’t Potter going to a Healer: they’d recommend it in a heartbeat, surely.Hooting for attention, Draco doubted he could do anything to appease whatever rampant thoughts were consuming Potter tonight. Ginny was Draco’s bet - not as if he could confirm it or not. Having his wife run away from him must have more than stung; Draco hated an upset Astoria, especially when it was his fault. Still, Harry’s mood was a factor in how quick his investigation ran. A sluggish drunk would be of no use to Draco and he had no intention of staying as an owl any longer. Potter needed to be on top of his game, especially if Draco had been outmanoeuvred by Moran’s gang.Harry didn’t cast him a glance. So, Draco decided to escape the confines of the post by fluttering down to the floor and pulling the entire thing down with him. It thumped against the floorboards and Draco started to peck and nip at the leather again.“I can ruin the place on my own, thanks.”Draco’s laugh translated as a long shriek that neighbours would hear if Potter hadn’t put up silencing charms.“Come on then.” Harry wasn’t drunk enough to fall when he stood though his first attempt at leaving the couch was a failure much like his attempt in clearing the ruins of this room. The clock lay in pieces on the floor and the tracks it ran stayed upon the walls like Potter was happy with the additions.“I got you, I got you--” He wasn’t making much sense until he knelt down and started trying to undo the knot himself. Draco stayed on one leg, keeping the other raised and in eyesight. Of all the things Draco missed, he missed thumbs. Potter had untied him, drunk and was faster than the beak would ever be. “--All done!” Flexing his foot it would seem Potter hadn't ripped it off or caused irreparable nerve damage. Now if only his healing spells were as kind.“Hedwig didn’t like being cooped up either.” The name was lost on Draco. Whomever or whatever Hedwig was - was dead. That was clear on Potter’s face and Draco didn’t look his way any longer. Staring at the wall was one thing, hearing the loss on someone’s voice was never easy. Words never provided comfort and no one would ever articulate how to move on. It happened or it didn’t. A year, a decade or for the rest of his life: Draco would never get over the loss of Astoria and if he didn’t, that was reasonable. Death was a hurting mess that scooped out the warm, fuzzy feelings and replaced them with a hulking nothing.Draco avoided Potter’s hand again and sat on the back of the couch, leaving Potter on the floor. If Draco hooted or shrieked at the bizarre Muggles on the box, he would never admit it. And if he was aware Potter was changing the channel more often and watching him - more than the pictures - he wouldn’t acknowledge that either.Hours passed and the box did not run out of images, none replayed and Draco made a growl at the sight of bloody insides and Muggles cutting. Why would anyone, Muggles included, watch this? Out of all the images and sounds, Draco liked the ones with rooms: showing off houses - he’d never seen a Muggle house before and he cooed and twisted his head to try to process all the strange devices in their kitchens. What did that one do? A loud, whisking - the Muggle called it a whisk - machine beat eggs in a bowl and Harry laughed. It was not his fault the thought of it was horrifying. If the magical world had the same imagination of Muggles, the Dark Wizards would be so much worse.Potter touched the back of his neck and Draco retreated to the coffee table again. He would not allow this to go unpunished but a bite now would make Harry return to his drinking and grumbling.“You could use a bath.” Harry rubbed his finger and thumb together and Draco didn’t need the eyesight of an owl to know how thick the soot was. He ruffled his feathers at the thought so much dirt clung to him. If a mirror were around, he would take stock of the damage. So, Draco agreed and allowed the sobering Harry to scoop him up in his arms and relocate to the bathroom.“The sink’s a little small, yeah?” Small was an understatement, the sink itself was toty for a full grown owl of his breeding. An unfurled wing wouldn’t even fit inside it. Never mind asking Draco to try and roll around in the blasted thing. Potter nudged him to take a perch on the bath-side and watch as it was filled with an inch or so of cool water.Harry dropped him into the bath. Water barely reached over his feet and Draco tried to look at his reflection in the water. He stretched his wings out, the left twinging and he tried to lower it. The pain flared again and blood, a scorned pink bled into the clear water only to stop a moment later. He must have stained his undercoat. Whether it was from the attack a few days ago or the activation, Draco was glad to clean away the blood. His blood. Another loss for him in his plan - he had thought to escape unharmed and superior. Nipping at the feathers around it, Draco was glad to see it was scabbed and dark. Not bloated with pus or an itchy red.Hermione’s voice sounded from the livingroom and Draco saw the fluster on Harry’s face. “Just, just don’t-- Don’t drown, okay?” He darted out of the bathroom, leaving the door wide and Draco blinked at the sight.‘Don’t drown?’ Draco could hear his own shrieks rebound off the tub - which for moment did sound like a faux laughter. Drown? Potter was proper out of it. What kind of bird drowns? He could fly, not far, not high, but as an owl he could jump high up from standing thanks to his wings and the edge of the bath was not an obstacle.
Don’t drown.
Draco wished he could poke and prod the idiot with that line when he returned to his human form. Sacrifices must be made. He soaked his injured wing in cool water and it was the best decision he’d made in the last few days. He tumbled around in the bath. Draco took on looking after his wing in the same manner he took on his work. Analytical and precise, focused and patient. He was soaked, really, and stray and loose feathers floated on by as he made sure to keep his appearance perfect in Malfoy fashion.Success. He was an owl worthy of the Malfoy name again.When Hermione and Harry reappeared, it wasn’t with the great camaraderie of last. She was pliant and calm, much like she was in the morning at work (before everyone piled on and ruined her goodwill). “Hairdryer’s at the ready.” She peeked in and smiled at Draco and he didn’t do much but wonder: what the bloody knut was a hairdryer? If it’s name was anything to go by - its function was clear but - Draco hadn’t seen anything like that.Hermione didn’t step away even as Harry crowded the door. Draco twisted his head upside down to try and spy what she was doing. Not a hug, not anything Draco could think of that would make Harry back off so soon, “I’m fine.” Harry didn’t look at her in the eye and Draco took note of that nervous tic. He had thought out of everyone, Hermione might be the one he could bullshit his way around. She was lacking in any affect as she sided into the tiny bathroom (Draco had closets larger than this).“I trust your judgement Harry. I just want to make sure you remember you can talk to me.” She used him, Fornax, the strange eyed owl to cover as a distraction. His mother had used grooming as her distraction, picking lint and smoothing clothing. Astoria had used her books, Muggle or otherwise and never once raised her eyes to give him any extra attention. Draco knew his role well.Harry just watched by the door and Hermione beckoned Fornax over as she offered a hand. In the spirit of things, Draco furled his wings and waddled over keen to keep the peace between them. Not his usual role (Hermione was the peace-keeper, the scolder and setter of boundaries, all of which Draco was grateful for: Potter couldn’t just say his piece and leave). Potter probably felt similar.“...Ginny was here.” He made a point to not look up. Or look at Hermione. She did the same, not turning to see him or his flat posture.“I know.” Hermione cupped some water and dropped it over Draco’s head. Blinking away the stray droplets, he saw as Harry perked up.“Did Ron say anything?” She frowned, shook her head before starting and Draco eyed her hands again.“Just give him some time. He’s got your back. We always do but he’s not--” She flourished her words with a heavier sigh, “He’s not happy about it.”“Don’t suppose you know runes as well as everything else? Accio Luna’s drawing.”The square parchment whizzed into the room and rested in Potter’s hand and he handed it off just as fast.Ever the mature one, she ignored the spite and took to the task of doing what needed to be done. Draco made sure not to make a sound, not to move and not to blink in case he missed Hermione’s reaction. What if she knew exactly what this was? How soon could Draco go home? She turned the parchment around in her hands, holding it at different angles and ignoring Potter’s attempt at sulking.“Luna’s back?”“No. She was the only one I could go to at the time.”“Harry--” Whatever look passed between them said more than enough for Hermione to wilt and concede, she stood only to rest against the rim of the tub, Fornax forgotten. “Who’s the Cursebreaker on this?”“Edgard, I think.”That was it. Draco was forever stuck as an owl.The man was too old, too stubborn and too slow for work in the Ministry and the only reason Draco found that Edgard Collins still had authority around the departments was he was a suck up to those higher up. The idea Draco Malfoy was in the same vein was insulting. Draco didn’t compliment and gush over someone who couldn’t hold down their job - what use would they be to him? Draco told the truth, facts and figures backed up with the unique bias of hating everyone. Most people did hate him and it would be seen as too rude not to oblige.What Hermione used him for was testing the waters of up and coming ballots and countermeasures. See who really thought subsidising Muggleborn households for school was an ingenious idea or disingenuous. Who best to hear the worst of a witch or wizard when they always assumed they were the morally superior whatever they piffled on about with a Death Eater in the room. Some weren’t so bold but Draco knew more about social circuses and twisting words to benefit Hermione’s ideals than even she did.“If it’s two runes out of five he’ll have to deal with at least thirty permutations. At least.” Hermione had once asked Collins to deal with a small curse and the man ended up looking up 15th century bloodcurses for weeks. The man complicated everything he touched. “I’ll be sure to remind him this is time sensitive.” She scratched her forehead with the back of her wet hand, as she kept an eye on the paper.Draco didn’t mind the conversation floating around the room just he needed out of this bath now. His feathers were waterlogged and obscenely heavier than Draco cared for and the water had turned murky and much colder. Grains of soot and dust from the Floo stuck to the bottom of the bath in clumps of black. So, he started pulling on the metal chain, yanking the plug away to drain the water.“Looks like someone’s finished.” Hermione played the distraction game again and scooted away, leaving Draco to watch Harry peer down at him, towel in hand again. It wasn’t as warm this time but Draco was happier to stop the water running down his legs or over his eyes.“How long do you think I have? Until I can’t even go outside without blowing everything up.”Not the most comforting thing to hear as he was cocooned like a cotton burrito.“There’s a lot of reasons why magic can go haywire.” Even to Draco she sounded patronising. Harry set him down, maybe a little too gentle on the floor before he followed too and picked up the strangest object Draco had ever seen. Was this the ‘hairdryer’. Did Potter know nothing? Owls had feathers, feathers - not hair. How was this supposed to dry him? He eyed the metal cylinder with the handle. Harry too, looked over it carefully.It was switched on and Draco flinched at the sound. Was Potter trying to deafen him? And-- was that warm air? Not just temperate like a tepid British summer but so hot it was a might uncomfortable against his skin. Muggles were a strange, innovate lot. This wasn’t too bad.Potter was nipped at any point he came too close, as it burnt at his skin. Then the endless grooming, which Draco was glad to do away from the loud hairdryer on top of an empty shelf. It also allowed him a nice view over the two. “Let’s get back to the owl that has ties to a Dark Wizard.”“Moran wasn’t a Dark Wizard.”“His father might as well be,” Harry said and scoffed, “If he wanted to kill the owl, why not just buy the bloody thing? Dark magic was used. He might not be a Death Eater… that doesn’t mean he’s incapable of Unforgivables.”“Unless he attacked because you were there?” Harry didn’t seem to enjoy that line of thought and Hermione backpedalled, “Not you, specifically but the Aurors.”"It doesn’t make sense. Make a codeword, make a sign, who has time to track down a specific owl and torture it before--” The silence made Draco pause in fixing his feathers and again that awful look crossed Potter’s face. It seemed Potter had a soft spot for owls.“For an owl it is overboard. But a person, transformed, maybe?”Harry pulled a face and shook his head. The idea Fornax was a person didn't seem too crazy an idea but Potter didn't entertain the idea long. “You know, Draco Malfoy’s missing - Scorpius said as much.”“Is he okay?” Hermione's concern was... touching. She sounded worried over Scorpius in a manner that he wasn't entirely accustomed to. The amount of people who cursed his son was sickening if not near as maddening. “He was all over the place for a while. Though he calmed down when he saw the owl. Fornax seems to have a connection to the Malfoy's.” Harry shrugged and unplugged the hairdryer: Draco was aware these little outlets were how most of those Muggle machines worked. How? He hadn’t a clue. Just not magic.The biggest signal Hermione gave was her jaw clenching and Draco stilled. Oh. Oh, no. “Did he?” She whipped around and even an owl’s unblinking stare didn’t make Hermione falter. “Draco Malfoy! Come down here this instant!”Not listening, not aware, not sentient. Draco went back to grooming himself even as Potter's magic laced with irritation pulsed at his wing.
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He and Hermione lunched every month or so; Draco never minded the blocked off dates in his schedule. The Malfoy’s were redeeming themselves, not enough for anyone other than Purebloods - sticklers for traditions regardless of personal tastes - invited Draco or Scorpius much of anywhere. Out of everyone in Hogwarts the only Slytherin Draco still contacted was Blaise. It was a beneficial arrangement.But as Hermione stared him down, hands on hips and puffed hair following her stance, he knew she was not a friend. Hermione was a contact. Potter might side with him, the bloody stars might align and Potter might not consider him hiding his form a big deal. Even if right now as Potter’s magic was strangling him, it was Hermione that was pissed. It was her rules he was ignoring, her position would come under fire if this became well-known.‘Present Ministry of Magic, hides conniving Malfoy’s animagus form. Favouritism in plain sight. Whatever shall Minister Hermione Weasley-Granger do next?’Protecting himself was easier than protecting everyone else. There was no danger being caught, betrayed when his secret never made it to anyone’s ears. So, Draco kept re-adjusting his feathers, ignoring the woman and the magic which eased away after a time. He could only imagine how many people would buy an owl, do a crime and blame it on him.“Are you sure, Hermione?” Potter’s turnabout was a curious thing indeed. His anger, the magic and glare previous melted away and now was left looking at Hermione as if she was talking nonsense. Perhaps the idea Draco was this owl - Fornax - was too much for his brain to process.“Luna did say that its eyes were weird, wrong even.”She most certainly did not say those words. Grey eyes were common in the Malfoy line, second only to the platinum crown and historically filled vaults. Really, Potter knew of nothing distinction. Weird was not Malfoy. He was a part of history - a family that spanned centuries. Distinguished, not bloody weird, that was a term used on Muggles and their inventions.“You said Scorpius calmed down after seeing him. How often do you think Draco has just up and disappeared from Scorpius’ life? I’d bet not once.” Hermione truly was too smart for her own good and Draco suppressed the glare as best he could. “I’d wager seeing this owl didn’t calm him - he saw something, someone else. Animagus or transfigured, it’s him. I’m going to look in the registry, are you listening, Draco?” She wasn’t going to find much. “I’ve got work, Harry. But - keep him--” She pointed to Draco, “--here. I will check, Draco. I will.”Potter’s magic wasn’t saturating the air as much but the sulking was back and he marched over to the Floo, following Hermione as she bid her goodbyes.Oh boy, who else was he calling now? How many people did Harry still contact these days? Blaise came to mind then, one of the few Slytherins to do well out of the war. Not because fought against the Dark Lord but because he remained apolitical and fled the country, returning once the mess was in need of sweeping up. Blaise swept in with tales of helping the needy and rebuilding the image of his house. Ridiculous. Even more so that it worked. Blaise could work a room, Draco would admit, better than he could.Theodore Nott was the reverse. Draco might punch the fool.“Albus. Is Scorpius with you, I need a word.”“Why do you wanna talk to him?” Albus’ tone grew more defensive than Draco was used to hearing, though Albus had always remained courteous when speaking with him. His face was scrunched up, a firecall from his father must have precedence of bad news. Or Albus was in a foul mood today.“Tell him I know where his dad is.” Albus didn’t say anything, disappearing from the flame only for Scorpius to take his place. Before Scorpius spoke, Potter asked, “He’s the owl, isn’t he?”“I can’t be certain.” He really was a terrible liar.“Is he an animagus?” Thankfully, he wasn’t without some defence and Scorpius remained silent, Malfoy-glare in place. “Scorpius.” As if trying to scold him into an answer would help. If anything, the threat of trouble was always a point of contention. Scorpius got worse and more outspoken the longer anyone tried to tell him off. Draco included. He blamed it on the last few years of being in the Quidditch team. Thinking of it, Draco hadn’t managed to scold Scorpius much in his life but neither had Scorpius ever been declamatory.“I don’t know.” Scorpius settled on it, as much as no one would be convinced.The firecall ceased abruptly, Scorpius leaving Potter no definitive answers and a visage that looked terribly angry.“Okay, that’s it.” Draco saw Potter go for his wand and Draco knew the spell on his lips: Potter was trying to pull the transfiguration out of him and turn him back. No way no how was Draco going to try any magic, having it put upon him without consequence. The pain, earlier when the runes activated was still fresh. So, Draco fled. Not under the couch this time but to the kitchen. Apprehension at the sound of following footsteps, Draco knew there was no real escape. Just delaying the inevitable.He hopped up to a counter, gave an angry hiss towards the encroaching Potter, reminding him how this worked out last time. Magic hurt. This was insanity. Bring Hermione back.‘If you dare--’Blue magic burned and pulled, stretched and popped and Draco’s hearing dulled like he had cotton in his ears. The grey tones of the world turned vibrant, colours engraving themselves into his eyes so much so he shut them. Was the world always so bright? Draco sat on the kitchen counter, legs dangling off and to his side was Potter.“You--I should--” Harry spluttered, his magic doing nothing.Draco grimaced, not a lie in terms of the headache that made its way across the base of his skull to his forehead. His neck was stiff, and Draco flinched as he tilted his head. Digging his fingers into one side of his neck, Draco hissed at the feeling. How and why was this such an issue? His previous bouts of transforming left him with a tension in his shoulders after a few hours. This was more as if the weight of the world sat on him.Then as Draco tried to elevate the other side, his arm wouldn’t move. Numb from the shoulder down and Draco squeezed it. He couldn’t feel anything. Draco shifted on the kitchen counter pulling up a robed sleeve. The runes were clear and Draco only knew that whatever magic cast upon him was tied to his magic. It explained why healing hadn’t helped; magic produced a speedy recovery from ones body but that still needed the hosts magic, as small as it might be. Good to know other people could still cast at him.“What do you remember about the attack?”He tried not to flinch at the question, he’d half forgotten Potter was there. Overloaded with sensations -- and Merlin it stank of old clothes and damp in here -- he could only think to breathe and calm the thudding heart rate. Forced out never sounded pleasant but it was another thing entirely to experience it.“Attack?” Draco was more focused on the runes that were written on - into - his arm. Had there been runes on his arm the whole time? Or was the one in his throat moving because of the spell? He’d need privacy to look otherwise Harry would know. Harry could not know. Ever.“Stop acting dumb.”A suspicious Harry Potter was easy enough to handle.“Just a little,” Draco sighed, opened his eyes and ignored the sickness welling up his gut. His abdomen twisted and Draco waited for the thought, the reaction to this natural occurrence: eat. Yet the thought never came to fruition. The impulse to devour and calm the pain. It was gone, like the way to twist his head so easily. Indigestion is what this was mimicking and Draco knew. Four days without food should have him dizzy and weak.“You might want to start talking.” Harry had pocketed his wand and stood, arms folded and watching Draco as if he was a suspect. Well, screw Potter.“I get my home invaded, attacked and turned into who knows what and it’s my fault?” He sounded more weary than he meant to and Harry froze, blinking at him as if his anger wasn’t appropriate. Draco looked away too, not remembering Potter’s eyes being that green.Maybe Draco meant that a little more than he’d care to really say. How many times had the authorities tried to lift Scorpius and blame him, argue with Draco that it was all Malfoy’s fault. Everything was always his fault. Hell, Potter even took Albus away from Scorpius - not even the precious merciful Saviour of the bloody Wizarding World could look passed the possibility Scorpius or himself was evil. A tainted family that corrupted absolutely.Draco didn’t have time for this.“I want to know why someone would change you into an owl then try and kill you.”“Thank you so much for your professional expertise. I’ll be sure to lodge a report later,” Draco paused, tried to lift his arm again but nothing, “Is Scorpius safe?”“You know he’s fine.”Draco sighed, one he hoped sounded like relief when in reality, he was bored with this song and dance already. Why would he expect anything less than Harry to refuse to believe he was the innocent one here. How could he expect to register and not have Hermione interrogate where he’d fly every day.“I don’t feel very well.” It wasn’t untrue and to Harry, excessive because he looked to the ceiling as if it would give him strength.“Then let’s go to Saint Mungo’s Hospital and we can talk once you’re cleared.”“I don’t think I can--” Harry’s scowl was back.Apparating, while his insides were bubbling and boiling didn’t sound safe. Not as if Draco had much choice as Harry grabbed him and as if his being was being pulled through a straw, he landed in Mungo’s floor. Potter didn’t seem to mind the stares. Who knew, but Draco was consumed with a panic, an acceptable kind of panic as his legs refused to work. As did his spine. Frozen almost to the spot. He saw Harry speak but did not hear it and in a moment, all Draco saw was the pristine and polished floor coming closer at an alarming rate.The first thing Draco noticed when he awoke was his son. That wasn’t a feat as he all but hovered by his bedside. Draco needed out of this hospital now. Right now. He wouldn’t have fainted if that bloody Potter ‘I know everything’ hadn’t apparated him here. He calmed Scorpius down with a flippant wave, a dismissal that anything really was wrong. Not that Draco would confide in his son because that wasn’t his job, it was the other way round.Walking, keeping his head high and ignoring the glances that both Malfoy’s were out and in Saint Mungo’s was easy. His only problem was one of the Healers who stood in front of him, unimpressed and snappy.“You can’t leave.”“I assure you, I am more than capable.” Scorpius snorted behind him and Draco tried to move passed the young man. He just followed suit and continued to stay in the way. Who would worry if Draco left too soon? “Harry Potter said you need to stay here. Until he gets back.”Ah. Of course. It was always Potter. Fine. Now that he was no longer Fornax, well, Potter would need to show off his lack of control. Or else Draco couldn’t give him some manner of help with a problem that shouldn’t even exist. But Fornax witnessed those magical blunders, Draco knew nothing. Time to rile Harry Potter up then, see the extent of his emotions and his magic in person.“And you can tell Harry Potter I’ve. Gone. Home.” He sidestepped the too-young Healer again, looked over his shoulder and said, “Come along Scorpius, I imagine the Manor needs some renovating.”The Healer didn’t stop the pestering, even as Scorpius stood waiting to apparate. Considering how Draco ended up in a hospital bed in the first place, he motioned to the line for the Floos. If Scorpius asked, he took no enjoyment from waving a goodbye to a distraught Healer. “Sorry. The house didn’t deliver the message.” He dusted off some extra Floo powder and wandered the Manor, Scorpius in tow. Whatever he assumed was going to happen in his departure, brief as it was, nothing had happened. The rings stay levitating in their box and not a scratch was around the plinth. “Why not?” Scorpius glanced in the direction of the study.“That I have no idea on.” Some magics were old and in turn had loopholes no one remembered. “Blaise might help with this one though.” He pushed up his sleeve again and Scorpius stared at the almost burnt runes on his skin. As Draco pushed his sleeve back down he noticed the way Scorpius straighten up. “And it’s a no.”“It’s not like I haven’t spoken to him without you present before.” Blaise wasn’t a common fixture at the Manor but Draco couldn’t remember the last time Blaise had been here. So long as he wasn’t telling Scorpius nonsense and trying to bleed more galleons from the family Malfoy he was welcome. But he’d prefer to keep his son away from most people who could tell him of how much an arse he was at his age.“Not for this. You’ll just worry. Go.” Scorpius’ face fell then twisted into a glare Lucius would be proud to call his own.“And worry elsewhere, got it--” He walked off.“--Scorpius.” Apparated. Gone.That could have went better. He forgot how frantic Scorpius could become if left to worry too long. He knew everything was fine, Scorpius didn’t. Damn it.He ran a hand through his hair and stalked to the Floo, not bothering to think of Blaise’s schedule. If Scorpius was gone for today then all the more reason to have Blaise here now. Zabini’s face flickered on the flame.“Blaise, get over here.”His eyes light up and he laughed, “Now, that’s hardly an invitation.”“It would hold some financial interest for you.” Draco left him then, going to sit down and wait for Blaise’s curiosity to win out.It took a few minutes but Blaise waltzed into the Manor as if it was his. He grinned all the more and near threw himself on a chair. “This better be worth it. Pan’s starting to wonder who I go see these days.”Draco turned up his nose at the nickname of Parkinson or Mrs Nott these days. She was as keen on him as he was her. If Blaise wanted to shag crazy that was his business but one error, one false move and Theodore might leave her.“Break this and cure me.” Draco revealed his problem and Blaise leaned forward. His hands were far too cold. Twisting his arm around, Blaise kept a cool expression as he read each. Blaise wasn’t the greatest curse-breaker out there but he was discrete and money motivated. A hobby turned freelance and all the more for Draco to count on him. No one in the Ministry would stay awake at the crux of discovering how to remove this. Blaise was an obsessive fellow, a details man.“What?”“How did you…” Blaise’s face wasn’t encouraging and he rubbed at his neck, “Is the whole Death Eater thing catching up to you again?”“Nothing quite so dramatic.”“Pay in for Pan’s pet project and I’ll do it.”“Not the-- anonymously, then.”Pansy was fond of thestrals. Overly fond if anyone was asking Draco: she’d made a whole campaign and never shut up about how adorable they were. The leather-winged, skeleton-faced beasts that only became visible after witnessing death, that said enough for him. They might have carried the carriages to and fro from the train but knowing they were there and not realising for years was unnerving. Damn things were like the Dark Lord decided to twist a unicorn into something horrifying. Don’t get him started on those bloody eyes, either.“Two-hundred.”“One.” Half-price because Draco wasn’t in need of hoarding his money but two hundred galleons to gush over thestrals was an affront to common sense.“One-fifty.”No. Draco shook his head. Why did Blaise try to bleed everyone of every galleon, sickle and knut? What sort of thing was he spending his fortune on? Other than Pansy. “One, Blaise.”“Maybe I’ll leave this to the Ministry.” Blaise dropped his arm and looked triumphant.Draco leaned forward and whispered, “One.”“You can’t haggle for shit.” As if. Blaise shook his head, stood up and scoffed as Draco lounged back in his seat.“Why would I ever need to haggle?” Malfoy’s did not compromise (unless it was to their wives or husbands because they were equals - no one else was, so why give them what the wanted).Knowing this curse might be off before the weekend left Draco with a sense of progress. Good. His plans hadn’t gone awry. Changing a few details, asking some more questions was irrelevant. What he needed to do was make them take the fakes. Why they hadn’t first time, Draco wasn’t sure - maybe they knew Draco had lay a trap for them. That was giving them too much credit. Probably thought they needed a spell to unlock their potential.“I’ll be back tomorrow, I’ve a few ideas but - don’t wanna be killing my beloved’s benefactor and all.” He winked and swanned away that might have Draco roll his eyes if he wasn’t eager to eat. Hunger was not on his mind and it should have been the only thing on his mind.Taking his time to assess what he could do, he summoned a house elf. Scorpius would stew for a while, rant to Albus most likely. Draco was at least hoping he would avoid the Manor till everything was sorted. How long was based solely on the intruders’ patience and ego. While he waited, and Draco wasn’t one that enjoyed wasted hours away doing nothing, he set about planning around the latest could-be distraction. He’d left the Mungo’s hours ago and hadn’t the faintest how long he’d really been there. If it was the same day, then maybe twelve hours going by the darkness outside. Potter would know by now Draco was no longer there, as much as he’d commanded the Healer otherwise. Seven at night, said the clock.“Lotty, serve some tea, would you?” The elf bowed, disappeared only to return humming a tune as she set about her task.Another half hour and Draco’s reading of the newspaper was interrupted once again by the wards blaring at an intruder. Later than he expected but not too late. The tea was lukewarm. Now, Draco could think of worse pastimes than pissing Potter off to the point his will forced his magic to do something, well, destructive. Since if Potter wallowed in guilt it would be much easier to force him to accept the helping hand Draco would offer.“I told you to stay in the bloody hospital.”Draco gave Potter twenty minutes, tops, for him to lose his temper and control over his magic.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Turning around, Draco faced that he was wrong. Harry wouldn’t last ten minutes. Fists at his sides and squared off shoulders were a gleeful sight. Really, it was the only way: Potter wouldn’t accept his help if not corralled towards it. Hexes would rain from the sky whenever they tried to converse like anyone else. Whether it was too much history unabated, but ultimately ignored, pushed away from all discussion or just not enough patience to deal with each other, they tried and failed to keep civil. Tried when Harry mentioned the Sectumsempra or when Draco spoke about the Manor, it was there. An awkward, uncomfortable squeeze that made Draco feel like he was a kid again, that hadn’t a clue what he should do. No apologies were given to Harry, no gifts of gratitude or outward acknowledgement of his testimony. Years passed and Draco would have preferred never to have seen that face and that scar again.“I don’t recall any such conversation.” Draco ignored the scoff and returned to the newspaper. Draco was friendly with Harry’s friends but that didn’t garner much hope in this. If Draco could show Potter that his magic could be easily put under control Harry would see it as an insult, not a truth. An insult to kick him while he was down and hold a point against him.That was the problem, Draco found when Albus and Scorpius began their O.W.L.S: the only time they spoke was to brag that their own son would receive better marks. The odd thing, that when Albus got a higher mark in Potions - not unexpected - Draco hadn’t raged or reacted in disappointment. Scorpius wasn’t as good in Potions because he wasn’t as interested as Draco was at that age. So, he’d given a vague insult to Potter, a compliment to Albus - that now there was something Potter wouldn’t be able to have ever. An Outstanding in Potions. Albus had taken it better than his father. Yet the truth was - Scorpius had watched him so closely for a reaction, Scorpius was the one Draco didn’t want to disappoint so he dismissed the paper entirely.“You--” Harry let out a sigh, “Hermione was worried you know.”“Whatever for?” Draco had expected Potter to try and scold him, furious over being ignored. Not - not Hermione. What was Potter talking about? Harry shifted around, checked his scruffy trainers too many a time and may as well signposted his discomfort.“The healer’s didn’t say anything?” Draco drew back then, why did Potter know more than he did - about his own condition? Why hadn’t they just-- How could a healer just--“Apparently not.” Draco paused, took note of how Harry was scowling at the floor as if it didn’t fit his tastes. Draco relented the newspaper and set it aside, “Oh, just spit it out. I’m not dying am I?”It was the flinch that said it all. Harry muttered under his breath, until Draco could barely make out a word, “Guess they were wrong on that.”“Sorry to disappoint.” Draco shrugged a single shoulder, he didn’t feel like he was dying. Healers always were worrywarts and hypochondriacs. He knew that, knew how hard to simply breathe the next breath could be when blood choked him. A twinge in his arm, not unlike the way the Dark Mark hissed over his skin, alerted him to Potter’s souring mood.“Bloody hell, I am trying to help find out who tried to kill you!” Harry wasn’t angry per se, not in a way that would spill magic. This self-righteous twaddle was once thought of as an act. It was however, a terrible trait Draco wished Potter would forever outgrow, year on year. “Would it hurt you so much to answer my questions?”“Not necessary.” Draco ignored him again. This wasn’t enough to have tea tremble in the cup never mind shake or levitate en masse. Riling Potter up should be easier than this but typically, Harry didn’t want to speak with him. His appearance here was expected because Potter was a bloodhound. And still instead of hauling Draco away to speak in the Ministry and demand answers he could demand, he was here. In the Manor that he hated.“It’s obstruction if you don’t tell me what you know.”“I don’t believe I made a report.” Draco dramatically huffed before more mock surprise, “That’s right, I didn’t. Anything else?”“When it involves Dark magic, then I don’t need a report.”Draco didn’t even try to fight rolling of his eyes. The logic was sound but coming from Potter it was wholly up himself in a way that reminded Draco of the schoolboy that did the opposite of the rules and was praised and rewarded for it. That - that really annoyed Draco back then.“Such a gallant refusal to realise you aren’t needed.” The magic in the air seeped in deeper and his numbing arm was a distraction but not before he noticed how Potter’s demeanour changed. Draco wasn’t sure if hurt or anger really fit with it but Potter’s nervous ticks, glaring around at the furniture increased. “I can deal with this on my own.”“Because being turned into an owl was your plan?” Stabbing, prickling heat spread over his face and Draco scoffed. He couldn’t say it was. Now he must look incompetent. If Draco picked what he loathed out of all humanity’s traits it was that one. Do a job and do it well. Do it once and never again. Some might find cowardice or jealousy more distasteful but Draco was forced to be self-sufficient. Potions for Astoria were brewed by him because no one wanted to be the Apothocary that sold the woman who shagged Voldemort a potion to breathe easier.“You need help.” Harry ended whatever he was saying in that infuriating nonsense tone that made Draco grit his teeth and seethe. And that’s when Draco decided he didn’t need to talk to Potter or offer help, or talk about his magic - because what business was this of his, really? What was he expecting to happen?“You’re the one that needs bloody help.” The words were spoken harsh and brittle, lashing out in defence - he most certainly was not incompetent. Be it from the anger or the need to not be looking up at Harry, Draco stood despite his arm hurting as the magic burned against it. And by the look on Potter’s face he was too.It was a frozen fear, like Draco had just revealed he knew about Potter’s worst whims and secrets. “What?”Everything stopped. The magic stayed, no longer sinking or floating, no longer strangling or burning.Draco closed his eyes took a breath before he continued, it did nothing to calm him, “Really, is it a surprise I’m being attacked by Dark Wizards? Do you honestly think this is the first time I’ve had to deal with a sympathiser in this house?” Harry was about to protest but no, Draco wouldn’t have it. Where was the heroic Potter when the media hounded his family? His newborn son--“I’ve had to keep Scorpius safe from the fools who thought he would be the next Dark Lord.”When Scorpius’ birth was announced and the papers - and everyone along with them - went loopy, Draco found many people sent Scorpius gifts. Whether they were in keeping of death threats and hateful messages over the newborn, fear that he really was the son of Voldemort and was a fungus waiting to grow and eventually kill. Or the gifts took another turn, Dark Artefacts and letters of supported, coded and cryptic and Draco had all but destroyed them all. Then he, Scorpius and Astoria left for the château to live in peace.“I have dealt with this--” Draco didn’t want to hear himself, it was showing too much - too much of everything. Frustration at being told he should just amp up the wards and maybe, not go outside for a time regaled in his head. Maybe this was his penance for being a Death Eater, he had no one to blame but himself. And after so many years, he was still angry. Could he understand why people hated him? Astoria? They were under the Dark Lord’s influence--But Scorpius? His son hadn’t hurt anyone.--before on my own and I don’t need you or your Ministry to waltz in here as if you’re doing any good for me because I somehow, after all this time, need your help? Are you barmy?”Those insufferable shitheads, Draco could still remember the sneers and whispers over Scorpius.“You should have--”“Unless you want me to tell the Manor to evict you, you won’t finish that bloody sentence.” Draco knew many things he should have done, hindsight was easier to judge than foresight. The Manor flared in response, the doors flying open, waiting for Draco to tell Potter to leave, that he wasn’t welcome anymore. A staring contest followed, one Draco knew if Potter said even one word he was demanding the Manor to remove the overgrown pest.For once, Harry Potter did not push his luck. In his years as an Auror, perhaps he knew when one avenue was closed off. Harry lost, deliberate as he scuffed his shoes on the floor. “Why didn’t you say anything to Hermione if it was so bad?”Or not, Potter sounded exasperated. Like it was an easy decision to make.“Merlin you are, aren’t you? You genuinely think I can go ask the Ministry herself for favours, for protection. Have you any idea how politics work? I’m either seen as a Death Eater who had enough money to get out of Azkaban or a blood-traitor that needs to die. Kindly tell me how having Hermione oversee my safety would help her keep her damn chair from the snakes on either side.”Hermione would keep her position and in no way, shape or form would Draco Malfoy work or conspire to remove her from it. Such an admission might sound like loyalty but it was not so Hufflepuff in nature. Another Minister might just throw charges at him again. Hermione was a safety net for Scorpius keeping his family name. One Draco had tried to pull from the clutches of ruin.“Things aren’t like that anymore. She wouldn’t--” Harry actually frowned, embarrassed and sulking when Draco laughed, a murky and dark feeling of having beaten Potter resurfaced.This idiot. This bloody idiot was the bloody Saviour of the Wizarding World? What kind of farce was this? What kind of fate did Draco Malfoy have to follow in order for this moron to understand the bigger picture?“You have no idea what Hermione asks me to do, do you?” Draco sneered and Harry went defensive out of reflex.“She didn’t say: I’m not interested in what you do--”“Not interested? Good. Stay out of my business.”“You have to tell me. If this Dark Wizard contacts others we could have another coven to deal with before long.”It was not an angle Draco considered before and he relented.“They aren’t going after Muggles,” Draco supplied him with the only truth he could give.“No, not yet. They just want to kill you.”Harry Potter might have helped Fornax, poor, precious, innocent Fornax to remove a curse, to find the bad guy who had hurt him. But he would never help Draco - not when all Potter would do is destroy the rings, or rather, send them away to be destroyed.“I’ve had that hang over me for decades, it’s really not that inspiring after the first two,” Draco drawled, playing what he really thought down as he threw himself back onto his chair. And what then? Draco was to trust the Ministry to make sure the worst thing in the history of Malfoy’s was obliterated from existence? That no one would try and use the rings against him or his son? No, no bloody way was Draco taking a risk that big on some unknown Unspeakable.And then it happened. The whole tray flung itself against the wall, the table - hit with an invisible sledgehammer - splintered down, down, down, and the newspaper, crumpled and folded, tearing itself into pieces. And the doors all closed - and opened - and Draco could hear the strain in the Malfoy Manor’s wards and magic. It was furious. And the windows started to show cracks but not shatter entirely and Draco gulped at the sight.That would cost a fortune to bring back to Malfoy standards if they broke in their entirety.And the world stopped. At least it felt as if Draco’s energy was zapped and his thoughts stolen as he watched the Manor and the spilling magic argue. Malfoy Manor loathed magic by others and for it to be commanded by someone other than a Malfoy, it crushed at Draco’s skull. Now, all that buzzed in the air was magic, and Potter appearing to try to sort it out in a rather - pathetic manner - that had Draco sigh. He was hopeless. A worried, hopeless idiot that didn’t know what was going on.“Was there a need to destroy the china?” Draco’s mood levelled. He’d done what he needed. Potter had shown his affliction and now Draco could offer help. Ignore all the word vomit from before, all interaction. That didn’t matter, that wasn’t necessary because if Draco could help Harry then he was indebted. An indebted Harry Potter could be forced to look the other way. Once. But it was all he needed.“It happens.” Harry stared him down as if he could make Draco not say a word. As if. But he allowed Harry some time to calm and for the wards themselves to see no threat. It took an awkward, silent minute of Potter refusing to budge and Draco refusing to give Potter the satisfaction of losing his own endless stare.“So, which is it? The Will or the Magic that’s royally buggered?”“Go to hell. I told Hermione you wouldn’t say anything.”“Answer my question and I’ll answer one of yours.”For a moment, Draco was sure - positive and fully thinking Harry would agree. That this could resolve itself and all Potter had to do was say the truth (and for a Gryffindor that shouldn’t be so difficult). But whatever thought fired in that same little window of opportunity killed whatever good faith Draco had - if any. He saw it, in slow motion the near-scowl on Harry’s face. Trusting Draco was akin to pain or disgust.“I don’t know,” Harry said finally.And there it was. A refusal. Again. Fine. His peace offering, gone. Refuse his help? Have magic ruin everything then, Potter.“Funny, that’s my answer too.”“I didn’t even ask yet.” Harry actually had the audacity to sound surprised and Draco watched him in his own way, not quite believing how socially blind he was.“Weird how that happens.”Harry might have caught on to the reason Draco shut him down and left him without answers but he didn’t stay for them as he turned and the last Draco heard was a, ‘Forget it,’ and the harsh stomps of Potter going to the Floo. Harry left and the Manor celebrated.And Draco couldn’t stop the rejection whirling in his head again more so than the Manor’s magic pounding in his head. So, he decided then and there to push it away. Today was a busy day but today was the day Mary could be questioned without the need of an avian translator.Returning to the Emporium would be a nice distraction indeed. One with a dual purpose. As he moved towards the Floo, the Manor shut the door on him.“I don’t have time for tantrums.” Draco waited and heard the door unlock and it swung open. Flooing was necessary, Draco wouldn’t apparate until Blaise did his job.The Emporium was busy.He didn’t see her but asked the old man up front, “I’m here to speak with Mary, Harry Potter sent me to ask about an owl.”“Oh, did ‘e now?” He didn’t budge and so Draco, patience worn thin already decided not to take much crap from the man who smelled of owl shit.“I could provide you with some details, I do hope we can talk somewhere more private.” Draco smiled, not unpleasantly, “I wonder what your customers might overhear. Lots of people avoid places that have had Dark--”“Mary! Mary! Get down ‘ere!” He yelled over his shoulder but didn’t stop scowling, even as Mary descended the stairs. She was different from the perspective of a human. Her eyes were vibrant blue that he hadn’t seen as an owl. He nodded to her, but was greeted with a glare. “I need you to write down what spells you used on the owl that was attacked.” Draco dropped a blank four-inch parchment on the table and waited.“Just a few healing spells, nothin’ fancy.” Mary answered but didn’t pick up the quill.“Any potions or salves?”“No. No, of course not.”“You weren’t paid to keep him here till the Aurors came?” Draco made sure to raise his voice, letting the old man panic over the idea his customers might rethink a purchase. Draco watched him leave to hard sell a terribly small falcon.Mary ignored it all and kept the dislike on her face and so Draco moved forward, and whispered, “Did you put the starving curse on him?”The Dark Magic was easy to flare in his blood. It was easier than he remembered.“What, no-- I--” In seconds Mary started to turn red, cheeks flaming and then came a bout of coughing. Strong, painful heaves until her eyes watered and she wobbled on her feet. It was Draco that caught her arm and guided her to sit, beckoning a half-filled bucket over as Mary spewed violently into it. Her adverse reaction meant three things: she did not cast the spell and it wasn’t activated under her care. Also, Draco was a bastard. So he left, with the knowledge he was wrong about Mary being a cog in the machinations of Moran.He really would have to buy her something to show his appreciation and apologises. What did witches her age enjoy? Ignoring that, he stopped, the outright proof Mary was not involved caused a slew of doubt to well within his gut. Malfoy’s were taught to be smarter than everyone else, not just cultured. Faulting Mary was a mistake.Owl brains and potentially dying less than twenty-four hours ago, maybe he wasn’t thinking as straightforward, as clear as he might. And if that was true then, faulting Potter to accept him without question was too. Now, though, Draco had seen the magic spill and Harry knew he knew. This could be rectified. Whether Draco wanted to, he wasn’t sure. But a Malfoy was prepared for all manner of situations and scenarios.The second shop was dead in the dead ends of Knockturn Alley, where no one cared to linger. The bell above the door didn’t work and no sign hung over the shop.“You again? I swear, you want anything illegal and I’ll report you.” Wrek’s greeting was in no way a warning but a bluff that Draco had to suspect worked on those of younger witches and wizards. The usual shopkeepers were lawfully required to hand over details of purchases. Wrek was a squib, one who was well known in certain areas. The name Wrek was not his given name but it was the only one that mattered: a man of little wisdom and low morals and a green-thumb that rivalled Longbottom.“Yes, yes. I need the list.” He produced it from his breast pocket, ignored the grunt and complaining nature of Wrek as Draco watched him work slowly. A not so much older man with a gut but Draco had seen the man move faster. “Sometime today, preferably.” The shop stunk of rotting wood and damp and while Draco was aware of why - most alchemy or potion ingredients were grown by those who sold them. Wrek was a terrible one for appearances but the botany skills was enough for Draco to return when he needed a discreet purchase.If someone couldn’t stand in this shop for ten minutes, they didn’t really need the ingredients. Demand dictated the price. By his fifth visit, Draco had paid three different amounts for the same ingredients. A Malfoy did not haggle.“Fifteen galleons.” Wrek sat the leather bag down and Malfoy balked at the smell of the embalmed seeds oozing from it. Normal practise was to use tar or if particular in annoying everyone, honey. This was neither and Draco didn’t want to know what encased the seeds in a safe bubble of anti-magic. Draco might pay double to not know.“That’s--” More than double the price of every street-seller, apothecary and potion apprentices skimming from their master's supplies combined, “Fine. Malfoy’s aren’t a Sickle family.” As his money clattered onto the counter, rotten and eaten by woodworms, Werk grabbed at his arm. Pulled him to the side and for a second, Draco considered himself dead, caught and stupid. But the fingers, nails which needed cut and cleaned, dug into his arm in a grip that made Draco wonder if he would even be able to cast a spell in time if he were to reach for his wand.“...What?” Draco kept his mask of disinterest up, knowing sometimes, a push and shove was enough for most. Calm. Stay calm. It was then, Draco knew how alone he was here. The windows were cast over in a layer of filth and dust and the streets were barren of people. Draco made a point to stare at the bag of Casting Seeds and ignored the smell of firewhiskey and the sound of rushing blood in his ears.“You stay away from this shop if you know what’s good for you.” He sounded harsh, harsher than what Draco had ever heard from him. Wrek made a song and dance how much he disliked Dark Magic but he sold anything to everyone and didn’t ask.And then he felt it, a rough cotton, a thick type of parchment against the skin of his wrist. Carefully, without twitching his hands or showing he was being given anything, Draco nodded once, “As if I’d come back to this hovel.” He pushed Wrek away, the man stumbling and spluttering curses as Draco grabbed his goods from the counter and left in a gait not normally seen. He marched out and towards the Leaky Cauldron in a panic - to those watching, Draco hoped he appeared furious, unapproachable and not scared and curious all in one.Wrek didn’t think it safe to talk in his own store. Moran wasn’t so powerful or connected, his father had used up a fair amount of both keeping out of the war. Paranoia threatened to set in as the dark cobblestone turned smoother and brighter as he made his way between the busier, more common streets.Looking around the Leaky Cauldron, Draco followed the shadows to the back and sat by himself. Chattering between the few patrons was enough to blanket even the sound of someone asking him what he wanted. He ordered a cheap drink all the while unfolding the note under the table.Words were written in a rush, the scratching quill was old and left the paper wounded. The handwriting wasn’t Wrek’s, this was too flowery in words. The ink was blotchy and old - clots and smudges didn’t detract from the bizarre message itself:GAZE YOUR PRETTY EYES AT THE LYING CHERUB,FLEE AS IF IT WERE A SNARLING JACKALYOU ARE MALFOY, NOT A VIPER, NOT A HISSING MAMBAWHY LISTEN; SOUNDS OF WAR OR PEACE, NOTHING BUT THE TUTTIOF THE RING OF CELIUS, YOUR RINGS OF CELIUS; HIS RINGS, CHECK ITS FLAWS AND YOUR FEARSDESTROYING HIS AND YOUR CHOICE, HIDE AWAY MALFOY AND MAY YOU KEEP YOUR LIFEIt was signed by a Emit Renrüt, a name unfamiliar at first until Draco read the whole thing through again. He always did have a flair for dramatics. The more he read the more the parchment crinkled in his hands. He took no enjoyment from burning it to ash and he left the Leaky Cauldron with a still, silent rage unlike anything he’d felt before. Whatever drink he’d ordered, he left untouched and abandoned. The note was correct, Draco Malfoy would not fight but he could plan and scheme because as much as he wasn’t a snake, he was a Slytherin. And now he knew what he had to do.“Bloody Potter.” Figures the one time he decided to involve himself in Potter’s mess he ends up in another. He needed to speak with Scorpius, now. It was time he knew exactly was sitting in their home.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The first person Draco wrote was Theodore Nott, not about Blaise or his philandering pastimes, but a letter addressing the need to divulge all information on Moran and his father. Contacts and influence of their own were used and dried up. So, where, even if Moran was as insufferable as his father, did Moran come across such a curse. They were not a thinking family. Theodore would know exactly how much Giovanni weaved and planned and the old fart was always too keen to share his hand whenever he thought someone beaten. Nott owed him a favour or two: be that as something not strictly legal either in terms of the new Ministry but what didn't hurt Hermione, helped her.In response to the note he had destroyed, he pulled the memory out of his head and into a clear bottle. It was hidden along with all the others. A collection, really, of information Draco thought too sensitive to keep just in his head. Details changing occurred when a memory was too old. For now, trapped in a bottle, he'd have the original forever. All the words on the page, the handwriting details: he still had them. And if he ever needed to recount what word was on the first line to the last, he was saved.Draco waited till late evening before he knew his son wasn't returning home. By next morning, there was still no word, no appearance by Scorpius and that was when the next message was wrote to Scorpius, an urge to return home so he could discuss Boris. The letter was only just in the owl's beak before the Floo flared and out stepped Blaise. Eyes squinting at the light and holding onto a stack of paper and a filled vial.“Well? Back so soon?” Draco ignored the melodramatics by most. They never did manage to annoy him, simply because Draco Malfoy could always do a grander gesture with half the effort. Why did they bother to try? Blaise dumped what he held onto the couch.“Soon? I’ve been researching since I left.” Blaise seemed tired, his eyes redder than usual. The potion in his hands was not labelled and Draco eyed it more than his friends well being. “Drink this first."Blaise handed him him the small vial, cast inside was a thick purple liquid which reminded Draco of Astoria’s favourite flowers. Charms and hexes went hand in hand but a curse was not so easily removed. What did one potion do? Rather, what did one potion brewed by Blaise Zabini hope to accomplish?“Whatever for?”“When I undo this anti-magic deal then you, Draco will turn stark raving mad for the want to eat something. That is a cure for that.” Blaise used his hands a lot when excited and it would seem whatever puzzle lay on Draco's arm was enough to have given Blaise a boost of energy. He accepted the reasoning, if not lacklustre, a simple starvation curse and something else. That didn't sound as customised, or important, as Draco had thought it out to be.“If this works, I might be impressed.”“If, he says.” Blaise shook his head, sat next to him and motioned for Draco to show his arm. He did, not enjoying the way Blaise twisted his arm round, "Just drink when I say so," and Draco looked over the vial again. It did not look pleasant to drink. A small blessing that it was no more than a cup-worth. He could down this in one go."Now," Draco almost spat out the tonic as soon as he tasted it. Kill him now. Oh, the medicine wasn't even strained. Lumps and unthickened parts were the least of Draco's worries as his arm crunched. It was painful, like someone had punched a hole through. Now, though, Draco found he could move his arm quite easily, even as the last of this - this disgusting concoction slid down his throat.His eyes watered for a moment, and then everything went blurry.“I forgot to mention you’ll be out of it for a bit.”“You arse.” Draco's head fell back against the couch and he stared up at the ceiling. Oh, he could feel it. The Manor being too alert for its own good. The magic twinged his arm no longer but did double its efforts in giving him a headache.“Come on, I had to have my fun too.” Not seeing Blaise's face clearly did not dissuade Draco from sending the foulest of glares in his direction. Even as Draco’s cheek was pinched, “I'm just teasing, yeah? Up you get,” Blaise said, and hauled him onto his feet. Which was not as painful as Draco expected. Everything was quite nice. Everything was fuzzy and despite the lack of details Draco could make out, everything was lovely. Lovely and warm and Draco was weightless.“Why is my house so, so grumpy?” Draco narrowed his eyes at the window, which opened and closed with a bang.“Lords and their houses, right?”Draco struggled to follow the logic in the same way he could not hold his head up.“I’m grumpy? I’m-- not.” Draco was not. Not. He yawned before he could say anything else. He could tell he was being dragged away somewhere, Draco guessed to a bed if this drowsiness was anything to depict the sleep he'd need to remove this nonsense. His stomach curdled like spoiled milk.When he heard Blaise, his voice close enough for him to feel the puff of air at his ear, Draco wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. Or why he was supposed to care. Really, everything was fine. “Potter’s here. Are you sure you aren’t mixed up in anything?”Draco made a noise. No, no he wasn't. Just having some rodent issues. Draco devolved into laughter at his joke.“What happened? Is he okay?” Draco would like to think Harry asked him those questions, but again, he went over his head and was talking to someone else about him.“He can answer your questions.” Blaise jostled him but Draco could barely lift his head from its lulled position.“I’m ffigh.” Draco knew he was not as his eyelids grew heavier by the second, his tongue too fat to move to articulate how shit Blaise was in potion-making.“Not his most eloquent of days,” Blaise said, his voice sounding further away despite his hand around him feeling heavier.“What happened?” he heard someone speak, but was not sure who, as the voice was muffled and warped and Draco stopped resisting the tired pull.Then, Draco dreamt.She was as beautiful as Draco remembered her to be, smiling and cheerful but not ignorantly so. This memory was a fond one, Draco knew it well but details over the years changed. No longer were they inside the courtyard and walking side by side but in the fields surrounding Malfoy Manor, birds surrounding them. Astoria had never seen a peacock or peahen before: their feathers used as quills and claws as ingredients but no more than that. Howled with laughter at the sight of the proud animals she had - said the were the most ridiculous animals she’d ever lain her eyes upon. The peahens had disappointed her as they were not more colourful or held more ostentatious colours than their counterparts.He still loved her dearly, even in his dreams, and he always tried to reach out - though he was always aware these days of the dreams were only that. Whenever he did near her, she vanished and the chill of her death remained and he was hurt all over again. But he knew the truth but laid on too much of a terrible hope he could still see her in his dreams, even for a moment.“Astoria.”She smiled at him as she pushed away a blinding hair from her face. And when Draco blinked, she was gone and Draco was left holding onto the air. She was still gone.Draco heard talking as he roused for his nap, footsteps and then nothing. Unsure where he was he waited, only to freeze when he felt the dining chairs and the wood of the dining table. He peeked at them and loathed that Blaise would set him here. This room was a horror in itself. Draco never ate here, never would again, even if Nagini was dead.“You okay now?”“I’m surprised you aren’t off to the Prophet to indulge them.” Draco rubbed at his wet, itchy face, only to realise his mistake. No point in being subtle in this any more, Draco wiped at his eyes and made no attempts to engage in any conversation. Blaise didn’t catch on.“Are you still--” he seemed to be unsure how to form the rest of the question before he took a look over his shoulder, “Taking potions?”“Not that that’s any of your business.” Draco’s neck tingled and he wondered how bad he looked for Blaise to ask such a thing, “No, not in years. Why?” Blaise leaned in to speak but Harry chose that point to walk into the room, where he’d snooped was anyone’s guess. The Manor near-vibrated in anxious magic. Draco wondered if either Blaise or Harry could feel it on their skin or in the air. It did not want anyone here. Paranoid and anxious over Draco passing out and not knowing who to throw out for the blame. Harry should be glad Blaise was here.“Nothing, tell you later.” Blaise waved him off went back to lounging on a chair.“I need to talk to Draco.”“That means your excused, Blaise.” Draco stood up slow, rubbing his fingers against knotted muscle. How long had he slept hunched over? Bloody Blaise, didn’t know a thing about posture.“I’m comfy where I am.” Blaise did look so but Draco might not know how Potter thought over and prioritised tasks. He most certainly would not allow Draco to so much as mention the magic menace if Blaise was here.“Don’t be difficult. Just go.” Draco was glad Blaise rose from his seat then and perhaps, his sudden unconsciousness was a factor in moving him. Guilt was the greatest motivator for Blaise, just before galleons.“If you need anything else I’ll be glad to take some money for it.”“Goodbye, Blaise.” Uncharacteristically, Blaise hugged him but Draco passed it off as playing the part of the good friend so he clapped the man on his back twice so to keep up appearances in front of Potter. Blaise was a decent curse-breaker but taxes and licenses weren’t Zabini’s thing and doing either under the new Ministry law was a surefire way to see the inside of a cell.“You look like shit,” Blaise whispered into his ear and Draco laughed. This was his house, this was his and if Blaise or Potter tried to make him feel unable to do whatever he wanted, he’d have the Manor remove them for him. Blaise was forgetting his place as a guest.“Still carrying the years better than you Zabini,” Draco said as he pulled away.“I don’t get as much beauty sleep as some.” Blaise hooked an arm around Draco’s shoulders, “Well, I’ll leave you and Potter to discuss… whatever a Potter and Malfoy would discuss?” Zabini made a point to stare and smile at Potter that most purebloods would have bristled under, knowing fine well what he meant. Harry’s reaction was genuine disinterest in what Blaise said and was more interested in eyeing the furniture.“That is the least subtle you’ve ever been.” Draco knew Blaise wasn’t even trying, knew he was just making sure Draco was the one caught out. He’d want to know what they were talking about: a matter which Blaise would never know. Draco would lie to him later, once he thought of a plausible excuse. If Harry was here so soon after the argument yesterday he was either desperate or he’d been talked down from his pedestal by someone else. Malfoy’s did not barter or bargain but they did seek opportunity wherever it may be.“Catch you later.” Blaise span round once he got to the door, “You too Potter.”Blaise winked a goodbye to Draco and it was more acknowledged by Potter than Draco. The idiot had started and ended many a conversation by a wink, meant to unbalance and confuse. "Oh." Harry frowned, looked to Draco as if he was expected him to jump in before his attention turned back to Blaise himself, “Okay?”Blaise was a decent not-decent sort. The kind of man who would do as asked but then, for his own satisfaction or self-interest would take what was necessary for either. Him being dosed and having to put up with Potter was probably enough goodwill for Blaise for the rest of the year.“Well, what is it?” The Manor began to heave the windows open, the curtains billowing in the wind and Draco couldn’t stand the nervous magic surrounding him for one second more. “Stop, now. I am perfectly safe, you ridiculous house.”“I guess it doesn’t like me much.” Harry tried to smile but failed. It looked as if it hurt.“It’s a house, it doesn't have feelings. You’re a threat or not and after your show yesterday, I imagine you’re squarely in the ‘threat’ category.” Draco decided then he’d had enough time spent in this dining room. No more minutes of his life needed to remind him of the past - even if his house was covered in history.“About that.” Harry rubbed at his neck, “Sorry. It just happens. I’ll pay for--”“Are we rehashing the same conversation?” Draco called back, not bothered if Potter followed him or not. He really would like a mirror to see how he fared. Potter did follow him and sighed at the footsteps - that sounded meek and unHarry, “Fine, is it your Magic or Will that’s buggered.”“Is there a difference?”“You--” Draco turned to see if Harry was playing a joke. But all Potter did was stare back, interested in what Draco would say. No. No, surely not. He was friends with Hermione. How-- “I don’t even know how you survive knowing so little.”“It’s not as if knowing what’s wrong with me will help.”Malfoy’s took opportunities, so Draco made use of one now. He’d tried to bully and coerce Harry into help before and it had left him with no tea. “Since it appears you turned me back human, I’ll help you.” Draco ran a hand through his hair. He really wanted a mirror.“I’ve tried duelling for hours; the whole Auror squad - spellcasting for longer - even sending my Patronus to Charlie in Belarus. I don’t think anyone can help.”Draco ignored the clear: ‘I don’t think you can help,’ that laced his words.“And Casting Tree seeds?” Draco turned and waited. He saw Harry fidget with his glasses before admitting he hadn’t a clue what they were. So, it was true. Hermione hadn’t known.“It’s easier to just show you.” Draco shook his head, he couldn’t leave the Manor yet. “I don’t have any at hand, come by tomorrow.” Draco lied, knowing the pouch lay deep in his pocket. Scorpius was priority.“I’ll see if I can fit it into my schedule.”Draco, ever grateful to his family’s colder gaze, he did not laugh. He knew very well Harry had no work to deal with, no real place to go. His case on the owl was linked entirely to Draco - and he wouldn’t be helping Potter solve that one. Potter could, however, help solve a curiosity of his.“What exactly did you and Blaise discuss while I was out?”“You can move your arm again.”Shit. Draco flexed his left hand open and closed, and shrugged off the shot of adrenaline. He felt caught. “Yes, your point?”“Blaise did it.”Draco considered what Blaise might have told Harry. He most certainly did not tell Harry about his curse-breaking side-business, “Hardly, he supplies me potions. Nothing else.”“He said as much.” Harry stopped dead by Draco’s side, “Though, I remember Blaise not being very good at Potions.”Oh, shit. He knew. Draco made a point to meet the mistrust head on and not flinch or fluster under the weight of the stare. But he was sure he might have gulped, might have given something, albeit small, away for Potter to make assumptions.He definitely knew. And Draco refused to scare from this: which was a positive of having his younger years terrorised. There wasn’t much that truly frightened Draco these days, even a suspicious, might-too-close Harry Potter.“Tomorrow, then.” Harry left by Floo and Draco stood there waiting to see if this meant a swarm of Aurors would flood his house. Draco thudded his head back against the wall. Blaise was a pest of the highest calibre. What a mess this was.Draco made his way to the study only to glance inside, where the damage remained untouched by the house and elves. Good. He’d considered leaving it for longer, letting the fools think Draco was so traumatised over the attack he couldn’t bring himself to go inside. He returned to coo over the fake rings that hung out in the open, waiting for their prey to come and steal them away. They’d be in for a surprise if they returned wearing them.It was ten at night when Scorpius wandered in, surveying the house with fresh eyes and, if Draco couldn’t ignore the vibrating wards and magics his son had no chance. As Malfoy Manor grew irate and defensive, Draco grew more confused over the house’s reactions as of late. All he knew was after Potter, it hadn’t calmed down.“What’s wrong with the house?” Scorpius asked, looking around the ceiling. Doing his best to leave out the fact it taken a day and a half for him to return. Draco ignored the urge to scold him there and then.“It had an encounter it’s not used to.” Draco stood up, ignoring the tut from Scorpius and walked away, fully knowing his son would follow.“And that means?”“Drop the attitude.” Draco snapped back, “I’m going to show you what the intruders were after.”Whatever smart words were on his tongue died and Scorpius bounded over, walking side-by-side instead of trailing behind. “Okay.”And that’s all that was said between them. Scorpius might have assumed Draco to fret a little over the time it took for him to return at his message. But Draco knew the brat was trying to make point - just not say it. Yes, Draco had been terribly worried, unsure some might say. But Draco did not put in a three day disappearing act for the cheap thrill. The quicker he could illuminate the looming danger, the quicker Scorpius would be appeased and this lashing out could end.The real rings were underneath the house, a mid-floor between the cellar and the ground floor. Hidden behind a charm and in need of an invoking word for even the hinges of the door to appear. Creaking and groaning, the house shifted and as if someone hammered the appearance into the stone itself, piece by piece, the door emerged on a once blank wall.They descended into a tiny room of harsh brick and wards marked in parchment which hung on the walls. Levitating in the centre were two rings, the Rings of Celius. The larger of two was adorned with a green stone and a dragon sitting around the framing. The smaller was blue and held no animal. It was plain in comparison. And out of the both, Draco knew the most powerful and horrid.Draco cast a few spells, Scorpius keeping close. They levitated over, before dropping into Draco’s palm. A running chill from his fingers to his spine reminded him just how foul these really were. A whisper, a stray thought not his own told him to put them on and another, an ache to drop them and run. Draco did neither.“I thought these were wedding rings?” Draco dropped them to Scorpius, watched him shudder against the strange compulsion to wear them and abandon them.“They are, handcrafted and gifted between your great-great-great-”“Distant relative, got it.” Scorpius was inspecting them, twisting them around in the dim light. They were normal looking enough. Draco watched him, careful that the pull of the rings did not overwhelm Scorpius.“Under no circumstance have you to ever put the blue one on. Ever. Even if I ask you to. Never, not for a second.”Scorpius shrugged, “Sure, dad, they aren’t really my style-” his disregard was alarming as was it ridiculous. Draco grabbed onto his son’s shoulder and made sure he knew exactly what Draco meant.“Scorpius. You cut your hands off before this goes on you.”A squib with free will would always win over a Malfoy that did someone else’s bidding. Startled, Scorpius shook his head, “I won’t. I won’t.” It was then, Scorpius gathered the power of what he held in his hands and he was eager to rid himself of them.“What do you they do exactly?” Scorpius didn’t look at him as he asked, but at the plinth where the rings used to sit.“So you’ll dismiss this as just any other old Dark Artefact you’ve seen because you think you know what they can do?”“Yeah, I get it. I’m not a kid--”“-That ran off with the last timeturner because he thought he knew better?” Draco interrupted to try and remind Scorpius was not unknown to be impulsive. Scorpius actually looked amused, if not a bit bashful over Draco remembering. If he hadn’t potentially ruined time and space, Draco might have found the whole story amusing too.“These rings… If you wear this, you will do whatever the person says.” Draco picked up the smaller, blue-stone ring and held it up towards the light. This one always tried to convince him it was the most beautiful. It most certainly wasn’t, as anyone with a keen eye would see the blue was not whole. Inside lay a murky ink swirling and sickening.“Like an Impervious?” Scorpius snorted, “Could I get Albus to--”Toddlers, that’s what eighteen year-olds reminded Draco of - they assumed they knew better, they assumed they knew everything they needed to know and huffed when things didn’t go their way. How Potter decided to have more than one child sounded like a recipe for madness. A dose of reality, cruel as it was, was necessary. Albus not unlike his father had inspired a great deal of loyalty in those he called friends. Scorpius held him dearly, and it was the only path open to Draco to force the issue.“You wear this, you can be ordered to torture, murder Albus and you’d do it. And if they ordered you to laugh - you’d do that too.” The jovial and uncaring attitude, forced or not, was gone. Draco saw Scorpius’ panic before he heard it.“W-why do we have this? Why would we need this?”Draco allowed time for his son to calm, if only for a few moments. He didn’t want the disgust to make him forget or overlook information, too preoccupied with the image in his head. Neither did Draco want it to leave immediately. People liked to think bad things never happened to them - it wasn’t possible. Scorpius had already fallen into the trap of assuming everything would be fine before, with the timeturner. These heirlooms would never be fine. Scorpius must understand.“They were good gifts at the start of their story, Scorpius. The rings were to make a quick marriage easier to accommodate to - an intrusive thought on how cold it was only to realise it was your fiance that was in need of another heating charm. A shudder to help show what they feared. It was supposed to help.”Scorpius blinked away, whatever emotions he wrestled with, before he asked, “This doesn’t end happily does it?”“What Dark Artefact does?” None: Draco had not found any in his research which ended without death or torture, be that to another person or the bearer of whatever Artefact was there. His house held many, one of which sapped the very life out of people to have it grow gold on it’s half-metal and half-organic branches.“We should destroy them.” Scorpius sounded sure and it was a relief to hear but Draco didn’t expect the loud sigh, bordering on a scoff to follow it, “Why can’t we destroy them now?”“Malfoy’s can’t damage them; they work against us now.” It was an interesting thing, really, that such a craftsmanship which created such a loving pair would turn into these. These vile torturous gifts that controlled and held Malfoy’s prisoner with no way out other than to hope against hope the person who wore the dragon’s ring removed theirs.“Then we--”Draco cut Scorpius’ next thought off. He couldn’t risk it taking hold as the ‘right’ idea.“Offer up a pair of rings that could make us drones to whoever says they can destroy them?” Draco did not tend to loathe the kinder or more sensitive traits of his son but right now, the idea Scorpius would hand these over so easily was sickening. This did not just affect them. Malfoy blood, a drop, was all it took. “I can’t stress enough how important it is of this fact, you can’t trust anyone with this knowledge. Telling Albus might seem safe but what happens if he blurts it out drunk, someone breaks into his memories - you don’t know, Scorpius and you can’t. You can’t allow anyone this.”Scorpius was quiet, for a long time. Draco rested his back against the wall and waited for what he knew was coming. It started slow, “You’re telling me - what the people who attacked us - they know this is here?” Until Scorpius was between anger and fear, “A damned ring that can make us hurt people even if we don’t want to-- I don’t want--”Despite Draco’s assumptions on his son’s reactions, he didn’t expect the anger to be directed at him. “I didn’t know where you’d gone!” Scorpius was yelling, and Draco hadn’t heard him raise his voice ever. Not to him.“I was so worried. I didn’t-- I didn’t know what to do.” It was the sniff, that always got to Draco and he closed his eyes to push the image of Astoria tutting at him. Oh, he realised now he wasn’t just gone for three days. Not like he’d darted over to see his mother and father for a cuppa. No, he’d never left Scorpius before - Scorpius was the one that left: he went to Hogwarts and he slept-over at friends, he went out into the world - and Draco was always here. Because Draco only ever went to the assembly when necessary, only when the Wizengot were summoned and Hermione might need a few more votes.Draco lived here, in the Manor he loathed and he stayed here because Scorpius might need him at a moments notice. And when Scorpius came to find him--“I should have told you all this, much sooner.” The apology from him didn’t come as easily as Draco hoped. He was stuck and said nothing else. How ghastly of a father he was right now. How terrible.Scorpius did not argue this time and followed him out of the alcove without any prompting. Draco sealed away the room, the edges of the door draining away like water and all that remained was a wall. The silence between them hurt, thorny and out of place.“I wish Albus lived on his own. James is always saying--” Draco turned to see if Scorpius’ face matched his brooding tone but all he did was stop talking, features blank and revealing little. When did he learn that? His son gave another shrug and Draco decided not to ask.“How... is Albus?” From what Draco last heard the two Potter boys were sharing a flat somewhere unplottable.“He’s worried. About his dad. Another thing we have in common.”Draco rubbed away the guilt that must have shown on his face, “Scorpius, there isn’t a force on this earth that would make me ever want to up and leave you.”“But you did leave me behind. I’m not a kid, okay. You can tell me things.”“Such as?” Draco bit his lip and he was back being a new father: terrified and hopeful all the same. And the nagging question of how he explained how he was a part of the Death Eaters. How did he explain the crushing walls, the fear of one wrong move being the last to a child who hadn’t ever seen an Unforgivable never mind be forced to cast one on another person?“You never talk about anything. Like mum.”And just like that, Draco laughed. “When this is all over, I’ll show you whatever memory you’d like of her spoiling you.” He was fond of her cooing over Scorpius as a toddler, just before he learned to speak instead of babble. She laughed when he did, and he laughed when Astoria laughed. On and on it went and Draco wasn’t sure how it started.“Promise?” Scorpius had never outwardly asked about his mother, though reminisced over her often.“You have my word, Scorpius.” Draco nodded once, and the trap to catch Moran and his interfering patrons was paramount now. Quickly, he must find everyone involved and cast them away from his family.“I’ll be at Albus’ place then.” Scorpius awkwardly hung back, “Can we talk about you being an owl?”“No. Now, off you go. Stay out of trouble.”“Right.” Scorpius left and Draco heard the Manor shriek at the loss of another Malfoy within its walls.“I find you terribly inconvenient right now. Enough.” Draco said to the house, wishing commanding generations of magics and protective charms was not so much like parenting. It slammed the doors shut again and Draco decided an early night would be helpful.He awoke in the night, starving and demanding food from the house elf.
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Blaise was the worst brewer this side of the Channel. The night turned to a feasting extravaganza and Draco cursed him out as Lotty continued to cook and serve him meals throughout the wee hours of the morning. Tasteless and unfilling for the first few courses, Draco was tired of eating by the time his taste buds recognised flavour again. Draco knew the lack of sustenance would catch up with him but he expected a weak body and a irritable mind. Not, not this. Not this gurgling hunger that made him grimace and groan. Just end, just end soon, he’d resorted to asking after each cleared plate after cleared plate.Lotty, thankfully, in her duty did not baulk at the number of times Draco demanded more. Or spoke of how his manners deteriorated the longer Draco was awake. By six, Draco was relieved. He slept. For an hour. His house elf roused him standing at attention by the side of his bed.She spoke and her words were drowned by the wards screaming. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he turned away from the open windows, the light too much for his sunken and aching eyes just yet.“Come again?” Draco glared, the house doing its best to drill a hole in his brain.“Mister Harry Potter--”Fuck. Draco rubbed his face and groaned. He hated it. He hated all of this. It was tempting to send Lotty away with a message to let Potter know to piss off.Scrambling up, Draco grabbed his wand and took to dressing as efficiently as possible. He had half a mind to tell Potter to return another day, when his appearance wasn’t so rough, his night not so exhausting and his eyes too dry. Let him return to bed and snuggle back into the comforting warmth.“Bugger.”He had one shoe on before he remembered the key item, “Accio seed pouch.” It whizzed out of a drawer, landed in Draco’s hand as he tried to pocket it and deal with the weary old man looking back at him in the mirror. Draco rubbed his hand over his jaw, he could take time to rid himself of the stubble but his skull couldn’t take much more. Greeting Potter, appearing unshaven was another intolerable option. Scowling, newly woken and with another cramp from his stomach, Draco marched downstairs.Today was already a shitty day.“I swear, if you don’t stop - with the buzzing and the banging I will take your bloody wards down - and I don’t care how long they’ve been up for.” The house shut the windows, opened them in an instant and the noise inside Draco’s head didn’t stop.Draco didn’t want to say he noticed Potter waiting at the bottom of the stairs. That seeing him didn’t offer him some curiosity to focus his foul mood on. The prick could, however wipe off the grin as to not make Draco feel entirely self-conscious with his delicate constitution this morning.“Do you argue with the house a lot?”Draco should have taken his time. Instead he walked on by Potter, letting him fall in line and follow instead of Draco having to bid him good morning.“Only when you’ve been around. I’m putting a stop to this magic problem of yours.” Harry flinched, and his grin left with it but Draco was in no mood to give any consideration it was a harsh thing to say, “Maybe then, this bloody house will stop.” More noise, a clatter from another room, the chandelier above them twirling.“Are you even listening to me? Enough.” Draco dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. “You’ll give Scorpius a headache. Stop.” It didn’t. “Right, that’s it. Lotty. Destroy the bloody wards--” Malfoy Manor attested this was not the correct decision and Harry stepped back as the chandelier started to crack, some glass falling, “Then enough. I know. I can hear you. I know.” He called back and finally, his head stopped resembling a grape being squashed.The house was silent and Draco took a moment to shut his eyes and sigh in satisfaction. Finally. He might fall asleep standing here. And then Potter decided to ruin that too.“So, I asked Hermione about Casting Trees.” Harry sounded too proud of himself for asking a friend a question, so Draco just stared, willing he’d elaborate and that his eyes would stop burning. Harry didn’t do well under unwarranted attention and he glanced around the Manor but Draco didn’t stop.He really didn’t like Potter.He really wanted to return to bed.“She doesn’t know what you’re on about. You’re so sure it will help. What if it doesn’t?” Draco tutted during Harry’s rant, “I’ve tried, a lot of stuff - I’ve trained against the whole department, even sent my Patronus to Belarus.”Draco wondered why Belarus and what was there. Even more so, he wanted to know why Hermione didn’t think to buy a few seeds and deal with Potter’s problem in a single night. Did she honestly not know? “Only one way to find out.” Draco looked at Harry expectantly, “Come on, I don’t have all day.” He waved him closer.“Shouldn’t you avoid apparating?” Potter had the audacity to check him over for more wounds, as if Draco was ready to hit the floor again.“Blaise said nothing of the sort,” Draco sniffed, he needed to tell Blaise a few things. His potions were as lacking as they were in school.“If I have to take you back to the hospital--”“I’ll thank you for your consideration if I ever wake up.” The joke didn’t land so much as it sprouted wings and flew away. Harry just stared and Draco shifted, thinking maybe his appearance told a different story than him being perfectly well. How clear was it he hadn’t slept? How clear was it he had gorged on food all night and hated every second of it?“We can walk there, then. I’d rather avoid flying right now.” The last thing he needed was to be pulled to the ground because the Manor decided that he was too high up and might be hurt. Potter had made his house an interfering nanny. The quicker he dealt with Potter’s problem, the better. Draco set off keeping his growing smugness to himself, still trying to figure out how Hermione didn’t suggest the seeds - but more training.Harry didn’t comment on the way to the empty field. The peacocks and hens were in the opposite direction and here the wards of the house unable to reach and fret.“Stay put for a bit,” Draco scowled as he took another hit today. Manually moving the earth with his hands was necessary. “Don’t use any magic,” he said offhandedly, knowing if Hermione knew nothing of them, Harry knew nothing.“If I could command it so easily, I wouldn’t have this problem.”...True.Draco rubbed his face again, “Just go over there and stay.” He pointed to the fence that intersected the fields, the outside, by the roadside, was hedgerows. Potter hopped up and sat on the fence. Deciding on caution, Draco moved another few paces away, and decided to ignore the chirpy Potter. Morning people were the worst followed close by the well-rested.He dug the hole with his hands, not a large hole by any stretch of the imagination but the bitter air made his fingers sting and redden. Harry didn’t seem too interested until Draco pulled out the pouch. Casting Tree seeds were as large as chestnuts, the seeds were covered in sulphur, their usual cream-coloured shell unseen. Draco dropped the first seed in and dusted some of the dirt on-top and waited. No magic in soil, no magic in the air. The seed remained un-germinated. Good. One thing was going Draco’s way today.“So, how long will this take?”Draco was tempted to close his eyes and abandon Potter here for that question alone.“I have no idea. That depends on you.” Draco knew he sounded tired then and Potter noticed - and he offered a sympathetic smile that Draco ignored, “You don’t need your wand. Just put your hand on the soil and don’t move away or resist the draw.” Draco started pushing the rest of the earth back and once it was filled, he motioned Potter over.“Are you sure?” Harry squatted down and put his hand on the upturned earth. Maybe another day, Draco would have revealed all the magical theory behind it. But, right now, Draco couldn’t think of anything he wanted less.“Children do this, Harry. Children.” Draco took a few steps back, and at the thought of Scorpius his eyes landed on his wedding ring. He twirled it on his finger, smoothed away the dirt until it shone bright again.For what was too long, to spend in a field on a chilly day, the tree began to grow. Even though it was transparent, the leaves nonexistent and the tree creaked under itself. It sprouted fast, flinging some of the loose soil as it grew above Draco’s height. That was normal. It was not normal for it to continue another two feet and Draco swore. As quick as it grew from the earth, Harry pulled away, the growth stopped.“I feel better already.” Harry jumped up to his feet.Draco was impressed until he approached the tree for a closer inspection.“Do you think I’m so easy to fool, Potter? Get back here.” The branches did not fade out of existence as they should. They appeared burnt and gnarled despite the rest of the tree unblemished. “You stopped it. You stopped it growing.” Harry didn’t say a thing. “Why?”“I feel better. I’m fine.”Scoffing, Draco took another few paces away from the first Casting Tree and Potter. “Second one, and this time, don’t start thinking about how the tree needs to stop growing.” He set to work on making another, glad he’d taken the whole pouch instead of a single seed.Harry lurched. “You could tell?”“You let go when you feel dizzy or light-headed, not before. I imagine the speed this grew at - you’re not even half-empty.” Draco shook his head, he was a little jealous over how magic seemed so easy to Potter. Too easy, as if Draco was the abnormal one.“I can run out of magic?” Harry asked and Draco might as well have headbutted the tree to stop him from scoffing at the sheer ignorance of this whole debacle.“No. But your Will can fatigue; that’s what causes most magic to fail.” Words and wands, wand motions and incantations were all enablers of that Will, the desire to change the world and have the magic obey.The second hole was finished. Draco waited longer this time before refilling, just in case Potter’s magic was in the air. He cleaned his ring for a second time too, this time taking it off his finger and wiping away the dirt stuck under the ring. Good as new.As Potter placed his hand on the ground, the first tree bloomed - four seeds dropping with a pitter-patter before the tree itself was washed out of the world by the breeze. Most people made one or, if strong, two. Four without trying was rare. The burn in his gut was back. If this was Potter not trying, how many would he end up with?Seconds ticked by before the second seed bloomed. And Draco laughed when it did. It was bigger than the first, a feat rarer than Draco had heard. “Potter has anyone ever told you how ridiculous you and your magic actually is?”“No?”“It’s ridiculous. Absolutely, bloody ridiculous.” And still Potter was still able to stand and talk with ease. Adults using these were sapped of most energy, unable to walk or cast the simplest of spells. Potter hung around, waiting on a third like it was a maths problem.Draco shook his head at the sight. What limitations did magic have if Potter’s Will was this - two grown trees worth. Now, Draco wondered if there was even a point to feeling competitive for any reason, it was clear as the trees he would never win. Not that Harry would ever win in the more refined parts of life or know what a hairbrush was. Draco would take his wins where he could have them.Again, Draco separated and took a few extra paces away from both Harry and the Casting Tree. This time, Draco took his ring off, not wishing to tarnish it again.“I’m surprised you care so much for it.” Harry was looking down, so Draco followed the line of sight to his own hands, “Your wedding ring,” Harry explained.“Why wouldn’t I?” Draco found it an odd thing to think: why would he wear it if he didn’t care for it? Don’t tell him this was another Muggle-thing. He watched as Harry heard his own words as he tried to undo it.“Sorry, I just-- wasn’t it arranged? You and Astoria, there was a lot of - of papers talking about it,” Harry paused to fidget with his glasses, “I didn’t mean it like that.”Like what? Whether this was a Muggle-thing or simply because Draco was too tired for mental gymnastics, he didn’t really care for another apology.“Arranged? Astoria and I?” At first, the idea didn’t elicit any reaction. Then, Draco laughed, loud and unabashed at the idea. A laughter that made the cramps in his stomach worse but they did not stop him laughing. The mental images of his parents and Astoria’s sitting around a table discussing them like commodities of old. No, the reality was Lucius barely spoke to Astoria - disagreeing on most topics - and both Mrs. Greengrass and his mother had loathed one another. Harry’s embarrassment, at being proved wrong - finally - was clear.“The announcement was to ward off any repercussions of me marrying - as my father put it, ‘below expectations’,” Draco scoffed at the idea, “Greengrass did the same to deflect any bad press from marrying into the Malfoy’s. It was to look like we were honouring an older arrangement neither of us could abandon.”“My family thought I could do better than a woman who’d die before she reached forty.” He didn’t like the earth here, the soil was solid from the cold night and shingle left Draco’s hands raw. Draco frowned, he knew well what his family thought of her - he could only guess what the Greengrasses thought of him. “Her family thought she could do better than a Death Eater.”“Our wedding was a disaster.” Draco smiled, even as a stone tried to dig underneath a nail.Daphne was the nicest out of their families joining. And she’d left early after hugging her sister and ignoring Draco from the start of the day. Ha, he’d forgotten how awkward the wedding really was. The hole wasn’t as deep this time, but being the third, Harry wouldn’t manage to make much of a tree and there was no need for the space for a blooming of roots. Harry made a noise then and gained Draco’s attention.“And you’re smiling about it?”Potter wouldn’t understand. Not many people seemed to, when Draco and Astoria married, the first thing the papers said was arranged for some Dark purpose. He’d love the woman, as much as she was no longer here, and he would - most likely - love her for the rest of his days. Like he’d promised.“It was a fun day.” Even his mother bid him a farewell once it dawned on their families it was going ahead, their permission unneeded and unwanted. He and Astoria had found themselves alone, but together. Thinking back, Harry and Ginny seemed to have issues. Instead outright asking, Draco said, “I imagine your wedding day was the total opposite.”“The only thing louder was when everyone ended up trying to out drink each other.”Drunk, uninhibited Weasleys. That said enough.The second tree dropped its seeds, this time two before it too disappeared.“Blaise healed you, didn’t he?” Draco dropped another seed into the hole and spared Harry a glance. He didn’t want to change the topic, especially not to this.He watched again, to make sure it did not germinate before clawing the earth back to sit on top, but his good mood flagged, “If he did, he didn’t do a very good job.” Draco rested the back of his hand on his forehead. Acting like it was a friend playing Healer was easier than admit Blaise was doing anything illegal. But Harry seemed to straighten, as if Draco was going to collapse there and then and Draco couldn’t stand it.“I’m fine, you deal with this.”Wiping his hands on his cloak, then retrieving his ring, Draco retreated to the fence, he didn’t watch this time. He closed his eyes and thought of how Blaise really was the closest he had to a friend. What a sad state of affairs this was.“Draco?” Harry called out, “are you that tired?”“If you have to deal with Blaise, you’d be just as exhausted.” Potter did it again, the same noise as yesterday and Draco scowled. Looked over to see Harry rubbing his neck. Draco watched as Harry proceeded to not look in his direction. “Oh, no. You - you do, you actually do, don’t you?”“What?” Scandalised didn’t cut the look on Potter’s face.“You think we’re shagging because Blaise winked at me.”“None of my friends wink at me.” And then Potter didn’t end there, where it could have ended and been fine. Funny and a point to prod later, but no. Harry continued, “It’s fine.”A mature adult would back away from that. Agree that everything was fine. But what did that even mean? And why was Potter sounding far too much like he was giving his permission for this?“What’s fine?” Draco didn't really want to hear what Harry thought considering his ears were red.“If you and Blaise are--” Harry the ever courageous Gryffindor lasted all of two seconds meeting Draco's eye.Ooh, no. No. That wasn’t becoming a thing. That wasn’t going to be the new gossip in the Prophet or the rumour mill. Him and Blaise? The heat on his face was more than enough to burn that idea out.“I would rather bury Zabini under the patio.”“He was all over you. I’m just saying, it’s fine.” Harry kept getting higher and higher pitched and his discomfort made Draco all the more embarrassed. Bloody Blaise. What was he supposed to do now? Potter thought they were actually-- Bloody Potter and his overactive imagination.What was he even imagin--“It was a hug,” Draco said firmly.“I’m not talking about that!”Draco narrowed his eyes. He was unconscious for a while. Right. This wasn't going unanswered.Draco left a floundering Harry, who if Draco were to guess, could melt the British cold away with the heat on his face and apparated to Zabini’s living room which always smelt of burnt pastry. Blaise sat at his writing desk, jumping in surprise as his letter writing was interrupted. The ink bottle fell to the floor, smearing black on the wooden flooring.“Blaise. You.” Blaise edged away from his seat and his letter, and held his hands up. “Potter thinks little but this is a new low. And it’s your fault.”Blaise came over, went to check Draco’s arm again but Draco wouldn’t have it. This was his fault - somehow. He made sure to glare and scowl at Blaise, hoping he wouldn’t have to speak of what Potter thought. “I’d love to join the conversation, if only you started making sense.”“What did you do - to me - while I was out in the dining room that would make Potter think we’re together?”His eyes widened and Draco might have swore too but Blaise made more noise. Blaise backed up and Draco’s anger had him withdraw his wand.“Blaise.”“I was covering for you!” He waved his hands around, “You were muttering about Astoria and having a shitty dream.”“What. Did. You. Do?” Draco had his wand raised, ready and thinking of what hex to throw. Blaise ignoring the question and side-stepping with other facts Draco hadn’t asked about was the most terrifying aspect. He only did so when he knew he fucked up.“I was just getting Potter out of the room, yeah?” Draco’s patio was looking mighty lonely right now. “I may have said, I think, you know, vaguely--”“If you stall for one more second no one will find your body, I promise you that.”“I’ll tell you, okay. Just, just put the wand down.” Draco lowered it, a fraction, if only to stop Blaise from panicking, “Look, I was helping. I just said some stuff when you were sleeping to make Potter uncomfortable so he’d leave the room.”“Potter’s words were, ‘he was all over you’.”“Oh. Well, shit.” The facade of Blaise’s lies were caught and he sighed. Draco put his wand away as Blaise deflated like a boggart. At least he’d have an answer now that Blaise knew he couldn’t twist this into something else.
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“I carried you. Bridal style.” Draco squinted to see Blaise’s lie but the problem was he didn't stop there, “I may have also said, that-- you can’t kill me for this, okay? Promise?” Blaise urged and made an obvious glance to the Floo. Draco struggled to nod even as Blaise’s hands went up again in surrender. Someone preemptively appeasing him was never a good sign or tactic. Bad news always followed it. “That we - I - may have overdid it.”Draco’s ears burned.Forget him blaming Potter. This was all Blaise and as equal a disaster. Draco’s need to return and tell Potter he was wrong dwindled the more he imagined what Blaise said. How was he supposed to explain this without revealing the truth? Potter was already suspicious. He couldn’t show his face to Potter for the rest of time. He’d thought he’d interrupted, urgh - with Blaise. Blaise was a man who he wouldn’t show his cards in a game, never mind his arse.Draco took a breath to calm the nerves. “What would you like written on your headstone?”Blaise clasped him by the shoulders as if holding onto him would save his life. Draco thought of what hex to send at his face. “Woah, okay, okay, dramatics are all well and good. But hear me out. Nott’s a bit suspicious, so--”Whatever goodwill Draco culminated over the years died a cold death at Blaise’s lack of awareness. He threw Blaise’s hands off him and snarled, “No. You’re not dragging me into this. I’m not an accessory to you shagging Pansy. People thought I married Astoria for some Dark purpose. I won’t have you use her absence to hide your mess.” Draco cast one then, a warning if anything, a Stinging Jinx to Blaise’s hand. Not his wand hand of course, Draco wasn’t a monster. He might need him for curse-breaking.Blaise pulled out his wand to cast a shield or a counter-hex but the jinx knocked it from his hand. Swelling fast, with painful blotches made Blaise yelp and hiss as it bloated in size. He cradled his hand and Draco was satisfied. The sight gave Draco a rush, not many people got under his skin and less likely were the people Draco could retaliate against without qualm. Draco made sure to keep his on target, Blaise was known to fake injury if it helped in the long run.“You don’t get to suggest that twice, Zabini.” Draco was nice enough to caution. The next one was going for his face, damned what Pansy would think of her lover’s new looks. He sniffed and went to pick up his wand.“Alright, alright. Next time I see Potter, I’ll let him know.” Blaise’s giddy panic was gone, replaced with a dour surliness Draco was more accustomed to seeing on Crabbe and Goyle in First year. Both of them, he missed at times.“I’m so glad you agree,” Draco sneered and grabbed hold of Blaise’s collar and apparated back to Harry.Potter was laid flat on his back, the second mound with yet another Casting Tree in it. This time it was not so much a tree as a seedling, newly grown. Going by Potter’s expression, he hadn’t expected Draco back, never mind to being company. Blaise just rambled from the get-go and Draco let him go, scowling at the man and his chatter.“I was just kidding, Potter. No need to take what I said as fact. Malfoy’s a bit bothered for you to think that we--” Blaise paused, “You’re using Casting seeds? Why?” He turned to question Draco and this was not good. It was one thing for Blaise to think Draco under investigation or suspicion on what Blaise knew of. But for Blaise to think something else was going on was another and if Draco didn’t stop that now, then he might just think Draco was up to something else. Not that Draco wasn’t, but helping Potter with wayward magic wasn’t what Draco wanted to read in the upcoming Daily Prophet.Draco answered before Potter could. “It’s not something non-purebloods know about, apparently. Potter was curious.” Potter gave him a not so subtle glare of his own. But Draco rolled with the idea of novelty and ignorance than of necessity.“That’s a pretty shit tree, there Potter.”From the outsider looking in, it was uttery shite in all its qualities. Too short, too thin, too few branches and no seeds created. It was a seedling, branching no more than a few inches in height and length before it faded out. Blaise assumed wrong, as Potter was at the middle mound. He thought Potter probably only managed one and a half, like most ‘powerful’ wizards and witches. Blaise had only ever managed one.“What happened to your hand?” Harry frowned and glanced between it and Draco. Draco made a point of looking innocent.“Away now, Blaise. Before I find a plot of land to place you.” Draco dismissed Blaise and for second, he thought Blaise might say something against it or tell Potter what exactly happened. But eventually he shrugged and left with a crackle in the air.“I can’t move.” Harry said, this time Draco took account of how true that statement was. For all he knew this was another tactic to have him lower his guard and for Harry to spring the questions on him being an animagus. Decent liars might be able to sound or look exhausted but Potter was more than a little out of breath. His usual unkempt hair was as unruly as ever, stray hairs stuck to his temples and his pale face a blotchy red.“Who told you to keep going?” Draco prodded Harry’s side with a foot. He didn’t twitch. How could Potter survive with such a lacking in self-preservation instinct? Crouching down, Draco accessed if Potter had to go to hospital, drained and immobile.“I think I got dizzy. After the fourth one.” Harry blinked hard and huffed and Draco looked back to the freshly dug dirt then back at Harry’s fingers. So, he’d continued even after Draco left. Good, Draco wouldn’t have liked to have returned and Potter standing around like a pillock. Then again, when didn’t Potter have agency.“Really? The fourth one?” He couldn’t see many of the seeds left, too much magic pulsed in the air for them to germinate completely and they’d vanished. Draco only saw a few which survived being alone with Harry. Three was an impressive feat Draco hadn’t heard of much - four was never a goal ever brought up. Back when Draco had used them, he’d been less than happy at his one tree, one-seedling and everyone else clamoured it was a strong first attempt. He’d been wowed at one of the guests - some foreigner, his mother had shooed him away at every moment when he had claimed to achieve two.But bloody four seeds in total? Whether the fourth had bloomed or not was irrelevant.“It’s not normal, right? Four, then.” Harry attempted to lift his head, managed for a few seconds before thudding it back onto the grass. How he could even move a muscle was preposterous.“Normal, no, definitely not.” Draco bit down on asking why Potter sounded disappointed at the revelation. Maybe even he was tired of being the first in the last century for every little magic nuance. Draco would be bragging to everyone who heard. “It is impressive though.” He looked back at the little seedling and wondered if his age had changed his own magic any. Would he still have one and a half?Harry stared up at the darkening clouds and snorted, “Must be if you’re saying so.”The amusement was short lived on his lips as Draco killed the idea he was impressed by Potter’s magic and he coughed into his hand.“Home, then.” He remained as passive as he could, pulling Harry’s arm over his shoulder and apparating where he crouched. The destination was the only home Draco knew Harry lived like a wizard of his accolades and prowess. Ginny lived there too and Draco wanted to see how she would react at a defenceless Harry Potter landing on her front step.It took some manoeuvring, Potter silent and face like a smacked arse - Draco chapped the letter box before waiting. The footsteps were fast and unlike what Draco expected, it was Lily who answered the door.Upon seeing her father, she called out, eyes-wide, “Mum! Dad’s here!” And off she went further into the house, leaving the door open and Harry scowling but still to break his silence. Ginny didn’t so much as offer Draco a glance as she marched over to Harry, practically scooped him out of Draco’s hands.“Harry?” She cooed over him, worried beyond measure and Draco shifted at the memory his wife was dead. He wouldn’t find someone to do that to him again. He wasn’t that lucky. “Harry? What happened?” Harry didn’t say much, didn’t look at his wife in any way, but stared at the floor.“A word, Ginny.” Draco cleared his throat unsure how welcome he really was here, in their home. Ginny spared him some awkwardness as she nodded but excused herself - both her and Harry - as she shouldered him towards what Draco could only guess was a bedroom or guestroom.He wasn’t sure what to say to Lily as she appeared to take to staring at him like a guard dog from the stairs.“Is Scorpius with you?” she asked and Draco disappointed her. One word was all it took for her to huff, in a way Draco was used to seeing on Scorpius a few years prior and to leave him alone in the middle of the hall. Pictures - muggle and wizard kinds adorned the walls. The place was dimly lit, and made the off-white walls appear more yellow. He heard Ginny yelling, to Harry, something about staying put. Draco fidgeted with a spare galleon in his pocket. Information was useful and held power, hearing domestics was neither.Ginny beckoned him to follow and he did so, knowing he was likely going to an interrogation.He decided to be the first to speak, to set the flow of the conversation from the get-go.“Casting Tree seeds.” He settled the pouch on the countertop of the kitchen, and Ginny clasped it in her hands with a curious furrow of her brow. Then, Draco word-vomitted everything he could think was necessary for Ginny to know. “He should stop throwing magical tantrums if he drains his magic with these. Probably best once every few days. Just make sure not to give him any potions while he’s in that state. He knows how to use them but will need someone to deal with apparating home.”That was everything, wasn’t it?“Thank you.” It was clipped and Draco shut his mouth to wait to see if she said anything else. She watched him and Draco knew what that meant.“Excuse me, I’ve some business to attend to.”“I’m sure you do.” Forgiveness was not something Draco ever asked of Ginny. He was grateful enough she could see Scorpius as someone else opposed to an extension of himself. That was all Draco ever wanted. Draco nodded and left in another apparation.Returning home and calling it a day, Draco went back to bed. It wasn’t even noon yet and it had been too much.He awoke again, hungry and listless. The plates he cleared was half the previous night and Draco found the luxury of having a lie in that following day did wonders for his mood. That morning he spent grooming away that which he couldn’t do previous, making sure if anyone appeared in his house, he’d look as a Malfoy should. Perfect.With the curse lifted Draco transformed back into an owl. His bones crunched and crackled, his eyesight sharpened but became duller in colour. He could hear the wind and the creak in the house, the calls of the peacocks from afar. Testing out his wings, he fluttered down from the window to the garden below, and neither gave any twinge of discomfort. Good so far. He transformed back, found no pain as he morphed back to human and then back to avian.Excellent. Blaise might not have to die so young.Then he was in air, around the Manor, hearing the mice in the fields scurry and squeak beneath. It was difficult to describe, in his human form, as the closest was the broom and the adrenaline going after a Snitch. But then, the air was nippy and cold but with feather upon feather, Draco felt little but cozy and comfortable. A bird in the sky was easily the most freeing Draco felt in his life. He could dive, roll around in the air as if he was the master of it. His wings were so large that by the time he soared over the roof of his home, he didn’t need to flap at all.He was slow moving, not like a falcon, and Draco took his time to observe his world from above. It was the crunch of gravel that alerted him to someone approaching the Manor. He turned, in a large, swooping circle to see who and made a shriek at the sight of Luna. Not anyone he needed to run and hide from. She did not jump as Draco landed in his shoes. Pity, he had never seen Luna anything but composed. The transformation hadn’t made her so much as twitch.“Isn’t that dangerous?”“You already knew it was me,” Draco drawled, watched to see if he could anything up from her expressions. He did not.“Maybe.” Luna smiled, and Draco still wasn’t sure if Luna knew before or not. But she knew now. Draco preferred to deal in definites than possibilities. He noted the parchment in her hands but could not make out the waxy seals on any of the letters.“What can I do for you, Luna?”“I was sent this.”She handed him the stack of paper. The letter was poorly worded and scrawled like a rambling afterthought. However the text did speak of a dislike against Hermione, in which it would seem, Malfoy was targeted primarily. It was easy to pull apart working relations, mere acquaintances when one push for justice served another role. If Malfoy was so terrible a crux on the Ministry then Hermione was naive or wrong to allow him. Or vice versa, Malfoy was necessary to go so taking his only haven away, the more merciful and fair Ministry of Hermione’s, was a simple way to see him in Azkaban.“Thank you, do you know who sent it?” Draco read over the words on how Luna should wish to aid this cause because of ‘old wounds’. Old wounds always indicated the war after a certain point in conversation. The pure-blooded families didn’t like the idea they allowed or were privy to the Dark Lord’s plans. Old wounds, indeed.“Not a clue. But I do have the owl who sent to waiting for a response.” The plan hinged on Draco locating the owl; an easy enough task for anyone who knew someone at the Post. But for Draco. he thought he might stalk the bird with his own set of wings and talons. It would be more subtle.It wasn’t unfair of him to ask was it? Was it? As Luna turned to go, he panicked.“Wait--” She stopped immediately, “I do need some help of my own.” Draco took to looking down at the letter to distance himself from the words he was going to say. She didn’t so much as blink as Draco asked her to accompany him to Diagon Alley in search of a gift to a woman who was in desperate need of a new cloak.“Let’s go then. The owl isn’t going to wait all day.”“Thank you.” The nerves died and Draco walked with her. Luna giggled then and Draco wasn’t sure why.It took thirty painstaking minutes to find a cloak Draco was willing to part coin for.“She’s a little shorter than you.” Draco stared down at the newly bought cloak. Exquisite in terms of taste - Draco’s tastes - but it may very well be the worst cloak Mary ever laid her eyes on. Did she like green? Perhaps a blue would have been better. Draco smoothed the corners of the parcel before turning it over in his hands. Why did people not wrap up items correctly? It was all wrong, all crinkled and ugly.“She can alter it herself, stop worrying.” Draco only nodded, not wanting to argue with Luna as they went towards to Emporium. Now, he wasn’t an ungrateful brat of old, he was new and improved and that meant he had to give gratitude towards Luna, who did not need to deal with being a messenger girl.“Thanks again.” He had tried to sound nonchalant, confident and calm. It did not come across that way and Draco looked at the cobblestone, wondered if his owl blood would still be there. He was too nervous here, too many people and too many faces to see his vulnerabilities. Luna giggled again.“You’re a good person, I think--” Draco turned to watch Luna as she turned a strange but fake looking Artefact in her hands from the stalls outside an overflowing shop of junk, “--when you aren’t being a prideful git.” Draco laughed, nerves all of a sudden bundling up and reminding him he didn’t deal well with most people. Even now, his reputation was built on work he could do, followed with what people perceived as Malfoy arrogance.Luna was held high, much like Hermione, because of their capabilities to look passed the past. Before, before everything, Draco would have mocked and refused Hermione when she asked for help, would have laughed at Ron and Harry trying to change the law of Aurors. But these days, accepting a compliment from anyone was easy enough, be it legitimate or not. The war made compliments rarer and Draco found Luna’s opinion mattered, more than anyone else. She was a clear honesty, without a hidden agenda that Draco was so used to these days.“Thanks,” Draco mumbled again and heard Luna’s laugh again. He wasn’t really sure he understood entirely why his face was hot at the sound. Hearing opinions on himself wasn’t too uncommon - it was the genuine thoughts that were few and far, leaving Draco in a limbo of not knowing friend from foe. Blaise and Nott knew him well, as did Pansy and Draco liked to think he knew them too. But not really. Did Pansy hate him? Did Nott find his company engaging - was Blaise even a friend out of earshot?“Luna?” The voice made Draco freeze. Because of bloody course he was here, now.“Harry, it’s good to see you out.” Luna brightened and patted Harry on the back as if she was talking about him recovering from a bug than magical delinquency. “I’ll be back in a minute you two, I have to hand off a gift.” She had a tact to not include Draco in her goal even as she snapped up the parcel that Draco had turned over in his hands for the hundredth time. Potter just smiled, though seemed miffed at the dismissal if Draco was a betting man, and as Luna was swallowed up by the busy crowds of Diagon Alley, Harry spoke in his ear.“You know you’re blushing, right?”“Somewhat.” Draco twirled a loose galleon in his fingers, desperate for a distraction. Why did Harry have to be here? Why couldn’t they just not deal with each other again? That was nice. Go back to seeing each other two or three times in as many months, not days. He didn’t even want to look in Harry’s direction. He just kept remembering.“Luna’s married.”“I’m not blushing because I fancy her, Potter.” He couldn’t believe this idiot, he tutted, “Is your mind constantly in the gutter?”“Blaise is with a married woman, I just--” How did he know that, when just yesterday he was accusing Draco of messing about with Blaise? Someone was starting to talk too much over this, Theo would find out at this rate. Bugger.“You thought I wanted Pansy’s sloppy seconds and now I’m going to seduce Luna?” Draco raged, only to quieten himself as some people began to take notice of who was arguing in Diagon Alley, “It’s not my fault Blaise just needs to say a few words and you believe everything he says.” Draco scowled, “Luna is a friend. Why don’t I accuse you of shagging Hermione?”“That’s not the same.” Draco ignored Potter then, as he could see Luna hand over the gift to Mary. He tried to see more, but knowing Potter he’d ask and so he stood, watching what little he could of Luna’s reactions. She was smiling, beaming and talking. That was a good sign, wasn’t it?“It’s not the same, Draco.” Harry tried again, and Draco shrugged away the weight of Potter trying to lean into his space. “Hermione’s like a sister to me.”Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Potter.“And Luna is Luna to me.” He watched as she left the shop and he wanted Harry to leave so he could ask how well received his gift was. The urge to swoop her up and thank her was both overwhelming and promptly murdered. He couldn’t look too giddy over things going his way, that would raise some questions.“Everything went well then?” He pocketed the galleon and watched as Luna laughed, outright and loud.“It was a nice cloak. She loved it.” The words were too much and Draco tried not to seem too happy over the gift being well received. But with all good things, Potter had to ruin it by staring at him. Not that Draco could see it, but he could feel the pressure on the side of his face and he made a point to ignore the man. “Are you two arguing again?” Luna spoke with such a dismissive tone, Draco had an instinct to defend himself against it.“Potter started--”“Prideful.” Luna’s singsong of the word made him slump in defeat. She could talk a great deal of sense and wisdom only for the next sentence to be about some bloody fairy tale that not even children believed in. The three of them walked on, Luna in the middle.“You would have made an excellent Slytherin,” Draco said, a smile creeping over him at the thought of Luna being in his house for school. She would have unsettled Pansy and Daphne to no end. They had a certain procedure in making friends or enemies and Luna wouldn’t fit into either of them. Too disinterested in what Pansy or Daphne families but not hostile or petty back.“Gryffindor would suit her better.” Harry sniped over her head and Luna sighed, in a dreamy way she was in the habit of that made Draco always wonder what she was thinking.“I liked Hufflepuff. They were mature for their age.”Ouch. Draco scoffed, he was certain she would have made a wonderful Slytherin.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Even after the war, or rather The War, Draco still made mistakes. It was a rare and noteworthy time whenever he made the same mistake twice and today was a lesson Draco had forgotten. He was meek in the presence of Luna, inside her home, a study with numerous hand drawn pictures of strange and unreal creatures. She hadn’t looked him in the eye for an hour. She held up a wooden box for him to take, some rune-like engravings around the lid. Hollowed out but empty Draco examined it as Luna composed a reply to the mystery sender. “What is it?” Draco couldn’t understand a single rune and he would like to think after studying so many Dark Artefacts and doing his own protection spells against them, he would know at least one.“It’s just a box,” Luna said as she scribbled down a response, the tawny owl impatient by the window. Going by its legs it was not well cared for, previously or currently as the scars were layered and some, raw and new. “It doesn’t mean anything.” She shook her head and Draco wasn’t convinced but decided against questioning Luna’s method, whatever it may be. “I’ll carry the letter, I don’t think I could take flying that anywhere.” He tried to get her to say something more, something long winded and more Luna. No response. She was writing. Draco ran his fingers over one of the fake runes before he managed the courage to ask.“Are you mad?” Luna slammed down the stamp on a hot seal before she finally starting speaking. “You’ll make a liar out of me one of these days.” Draco stood up straighter, he wouldn’t attribute Luna with the word of liar. He tried to speak about how there were times when he held his tongue or when the people clamouring around him were too much. Why he had to defend himself against Potter -- it was unfair. What mistakes did Harry make that followed him for so many years? None, that’s what. But Draco would never make Luna lie or cheat for him, she had to know that much. “Change doesn’t mean anything if you revert back because it’s easier for you that way.”Draco sat back on the edge of the table, not wanting to process Luna might be right. No, he was different. He had changed. This was Potter’s fault. This was Luna’s loyalty to him showing through. But her disappointment was heavy and it settled in his gut like stone.She worked in silence, only the occasional hoot from the owl to break it. He hadn’t been nice to Potter, even if his magic had flared and shattered a window of a nearby shop. His face had spoke volumes, how horrified and sickening it all was. Potter should have cured his magic problems. They were still there even as Potter panicked, Luna trying to soothe him, Draco had reverted back. He’d laughed at him, said that of course, Potter couldn’t go a day without being the centre of attention. It hadn’t anything to do with the constant need to pull Luna away from Potter - him talking about old memories Draco had no way to add to - and it was unfair. Unfair for Potter to act as if Draco was the bad guy. All he wanted to do was see Luna, see to the this letter and nothing else. And here he sat, waiting on Luna to broach a subject Draco wasn’t sure he could handle.Had he really changed? Had he done enough to be a ‘good’ guy now?Draco sat the box down, and in turn changed into an owl. One that made the tawny hiss. He watched her quietly and rotated his head around, unsure and he hopped onto the table to watch her wrap the box up with string.“I’m not falling for a cute face.” She prodded him and Draco found himself being pushed back. He forgot he didn’t weight much even as a larger breed of owl, most of that was his wings. In return he nudged her arm with his beak and waited. He was sorry. She gathered up the box and handed it off to the tawny, who hooted and off it flew. If the owl left too quick then even he would lose sight of it. He bounced his head, hoping to hurry her up. “Be careful,” she spoke to him soft and caring and for a single moment Draco wondered what would he have to do to lose Luna’s tentative friendship. Was being cruel to anyone a deal-breaker? He took the letter in his beak and off he went following the other. At his home, Draco never chased much prey or fellow wildlife. He did like to harass the peacocks. Which demanded he leave their territory with those puffed up tails and Draco would flutter up and down the field and he’d have his revenge after being bit by one, aged eight. Stalking another owl was weird. More like a slow moving snitch, but in a world where Draco could hear the squeaks and rummaging of mice below - the other owl was silent. A void of noise in a world where he could hear everything. The tawny managed well with the box, flying first over the busy buildings of London then outside it. Then Draco noticed the roads were less frequent and the world opened to fields and trees, hedges and rolling hills. Eventually, the tawny landed. The box clattering on the windowsill of a house, isolated and barely kept. Draco followed, standing and waiting for the letter Luna wrote to be received. He was not expecting Gregory Goyle to be the man behind a desk, writing the same letter over and over. Disgust blossomed under his feathers. Draco wanted to rip the man’s throat out.They were friends, at least he supposed they were more lackeys than equals. Together for a long time even before Hogwarts, Draco had done the homework and the spellwork, and Goyle followed along with Crabbe. They were thick and their parents had all but told them to do whatever it was Draco wished. And Draco knew it. He knew they would do whatever he wanted, not much of a spine between the two. Not much of a brain. So, as Draco let the letter go, he peered at the half-written letter that Goyle worked on. It was the same as Luna’s, Old Wounds and asking for alliance. Another, a seal of Theodore Nott, his signature at the bottom, that letter read: ‘Draco Malfoy is firmly in the Mudblood’s camp. Try Zabini. Idiot could use some money. Probably could sway his vote.’ Goyle didn’t offer either of them treats, shouted at the tawny to be quiet as it hooted. Draco looked around the room. Not common for a pure-blood’s residence. It was in need of a deep clean, and the cage belong to the owl held only a few rat carcasses. The rest of the room was a mess of papers, newspaper and handwritten letters. Goyle was not the most organised of fellows even now. Goyle regarded Draco with confusion, a common expression that Draco was used to. He might have wrote these letters but he was no mastermind. Draco waited till Goyle took the box and left. Shifting back, he hushed the territorial owl with a quick rat, and took to searching through the numerous replies. Luna was not the only one to have responded. Some used colourful language and told Goyle to die. Worrisome were the ones that asked Goyle to explain what he was planning. Draco wrote down the names. Theo and Blaise, he added too. First he would get them to tow the line. Then he could question Aksley and Wunderforth, Parkinson was there too but its hand was not Pansy’s. Possibly with the flourish on the y’s her mother. Her father wasn’t around any more. He did not take any extra time or the letters themselves as they would point to even Goyle someone knew of the plans to push Hermione out. So, Draco left in owl form and headed back to Luna. “It’s Goyle who sent you it. That means there’s someone else.” Draco wasn’t entirely sure who could persuade Goyle to commit to secretary work. Luna nodded, and stayed in her usual bubble, where Draco could never reach her. She was still mad, then. “How did you know, about me, being Fornax?” He tried again.Luna preened under the question and Draco hadn’t a clue what to expect as she flared to life, “Rolf needed help in locating magical creatures. The fae kind are smaller than a pinhead sometimes. But only sometimes. We made this to help find them,” Luna said as she pulled on her necklace. One Draco hadn’t really taken in, as it was neither of great craftsmanship or beautiful. Two square chunks of metal threaded through copper and Luna regarded it like it was a wonder. “It said there was a magical creature about, but you were the only one in the room.”“How does it work?” Draco asked, though not exactly too interested in it but relieved Luna was not so upset. Luna shook her head, poked one of the metal squares.“I’m not really sure.”This was the best time to leave. Just before the silence returned. Draco did have a busy schedule today and to lower suspicions, he left again on his wings. He needed to Floo to Theo’s. Apparation might point that he was not in the Manor to use that Floo line which would raise the question: where was he? It took longer than Draco hoped to return. But even with his arms aching and his stomach cramping again, Draco Flooed to Theo’s without so much as a greeting. He stood in Theodore Nott’s ancestral home, much like the Malfoy Manor its wards did not appreciate a random appearance. Whether it was the wards that alerted Theodore or not, he rounded the corner, mad with a wand at the ready, but dishevelled in way Draco wasn’t familiar. “Theo, a word. How much did you give the Goyles?”Nott straightened and scoffed. “How much have you slid to Blaise?” Ah. That could be… problematic.“You know, then.” Draco tried to look anywhere but Nott’s face. But it twisted in a cruel humour and Draco was uncomfortable all the more. It wasn’t his duty to inform people of their loved one’s affairs.“Not the most subtle man Zabini. Pansy can be shagged by a centaur for all I care.” Theo shrugged and put his wand away.“The next vote, you’ll give your support to Hermione.” “The Mudblood? I don’t think so. She’s had enough fun playing Minister,” Theo sneered back, and the intimidation tactic fell away leaving Draco to sigh as Nott tried to crowd into his space. Blaise could work a room, Nott couldn’t handle chit-chat over tea. “You will or I’ll have your secrets laid out on the Prophet.”“Think you have more secrets to worry over, Malfoy.” Paranoia said he was talking about the rings, Draco guessed that Emit was Nott. But why say anything? Not that he would ever admit to it. How he knew in the first place was enough to put Draco on the defensive. He'd re-read the memory of the note later.“You’re best at making knickknacks, Theo. Don’t start thinking you can play with politics.” Draco regarded how relaxed Theo seemed, how smug and sure. He might do well against Ron or Harry but Draco knew the man better. He continued, “so, you and whoever you can influence, will happily give Hermione another term.”“The fuck I will. She’s out.” It was the smile that made Draco wonder if he’d ever seemed so sadistically inclined. “And I’ll have the best party over telling her to go fu--” Draco wanted to laugh at how Theodore was trying to anger him. He didn’t say the term these days because it held no meaning other than a memory of how wrong he was. If Theo wanted to say it till he was grey in the head, he could. It just showed how little he learned.“--I might have secrets, some you might know, Nott. But trust me when I say this,” Draco leaned closer, pulled on the drawstrings of his ruffled cloak and smiled, “The Prophet will be more eager to hear of your philandering ways than Pansy’s.”“Fuck you.” Nott sank into the wall behind him as if it was the only thing that kept him upright. “One good turn doesn’t get you another. Not in the real world. When Goyle contacts you again, be sure to forward it to me.” “Potter’s visiting you pretty often.”A last attempt to barter, and a poor choice at that. “Is he? From Blaise I take it,” Draco trailed off, knew he still couldn’t say a thing about magic. Lie it was. “He’s got the impression there’s more Dark Wizards around. He’s quite adamant I know them.” Theodore didn’t hang around long after that and Draco yelled out a farewell. He flinched when he saw Pansy hanging at the door and Draco wondered how much she had heard. More likely she, wanting to eavesdrop, but not having the courage to cast, had her peer into the room once Draco shouted. “Pansy.” She didn’t return the greeting but glared. “I suggest you rally support for the current Minister. Unless you want your business on the pages of the Prophet.”“We used to be friends.”“We did.”“You turned into the Mudblood’s bloodhound, running around at her feet.” Pansy tried her best to dig her claws in. And it was then that Draco saw the same smirk, once a long time ago, Draco found cute and endearing, that made him giddy and feel powerful and respected. He didn’t feel anything now. And with a smile all his own decided to own whatever label she might throw at him. For once, he wasn’t embarrassed to say he was on Hermione’s side.“Woof.” Her disgust was immediate as if he'd infect her too with a sense of humour. "Get out. Now." Luna might like him to care for his words regardless of person. But he wouldn’t deal with the old Slytherin’s with anything but a sharp tongue and faster wit. Draco left, laughing at Pansy's upturned lip.Theo was a maybe, Pansy was a maybe. Blaise was still an unknown. He might side with Pansy. Or he might go on his usual tirade of how his family was apathetic of all political and social views for a reason. Hanging on the fence was a sport for the Zabinis. Today was filled with more problems, ones which pointed to a rising offensive against the Ministry. Not under Draco’s watch. He’d weed them out. For now though, he returned home and called the day productive.Again, Draco awoke during the night. This time it was the wards shattering and crying out in one last high-pitched whine that bled its way through Draco’s skull. He staggered out of bed, grabbed his wand and went to see what was so dangerous that the Manor woke him. If Moran had thought to attack him in his sleep, he would be mistaken. It wasn’t Moran or any of his croonies. But Harry, on his knees and hands over his ears. His magic was out of control, the windows shattered, the glass fragments spinning around in a vortex. Draco couldn’t hear the Manor anymore. What he did hear was the rush of magic, loud and screeching against whatever it decided to pick up and add to the hurricane that was in his bloody front room. “You said it wouldn’t happen again!” The accusation didn’t hurt. If only. Draco couldn't argue he liked to think he had solved what Hermione could not. That it solidified him as superior: but it hadn't. Glass started to burrow its way into the marble, scratching and clawing and Draco hadn’t seen anything like it. “Do you have the seeds?” Draco didn’t dare take a step towards him. If he were to guess, it was luck that Potter hadn’t splinched himself already. He’d need to use the seed here.“I used them all already,” Harry shouted, and in the same moment a door ripped itself from its hinges and rammed into the wall. Draco stilled, scared he too might end up in a death storm. No seeds? How was that possible? How was he supposed to deal with this? “Hold on.” Draco could only hope that there were strays left in the field that Harry could use. He apparated to the field. Casting an Lumos he searched, making sure not to fall to the temptation of Accio-ing the blasted things. That would be pointless no matter the need for one. The air chilled his pyjamas and left Draco’s breath in the air. Dew from the grass soaked his feet and the bottom of his trousers. Bugger. Bugger. Bugger.“Damn it!” Draco couldn’t find a single one. Apparating again, he landed in the only Apothecary that stayed open twenty-four seven. One of the few shops, Draco was not welcome in even to browse. The warm air tingled at his cold-bitten fingers and face. “I need a Casting Tree seed, now.” Draco tried another tactic, because the sheer indifference by the madame here was too much. “Harry Potter needs it.”“I’m sure he does.” The old fart didn’t shift from her slouch over the counter and Draco bristled. Sure, let everyone see him in his bloody pyjamas, freezing and arguing for one bloody seed that didn’t cost more than a pound of rat guts.“Harry Potter is dying, he needs one.” “If you’re lying…” The threat trailed off and she set to work, adding a handful of seeds into the familiar pouch. Draco was never happier to have something thrown at his face. Apparating back, he knew he’d taken too long. The windows were holes in the wall, the entire frame being ripped from its origin. All the while, a spinning, maddening cycle of magic smashed everything together like a toddler playing dolls. Draco couldn't tell what furniture was in the air any more, all of it reduced down and splintered. His house elf, Lotty popped beside him, alarmed and crying at the mess. He could barely see Potter behind it all. He knelt down, trying to keep the house elf from its self-harm, “Lotty, I need you to make shield, a barrier - something - around this,” Draco raised the leather pouch and continued, “It needs to go to Harry Potter. Do you understand?” It was risky but no way would Draco survive a trip to the epicentre. “Yes, yes-- I’ll make it safe.” The ebb and flow of magic in the air was not normal magic. Not magic with a stated Will reinforced behind it - this was wild and did not, from what Draco could tell, show any heed to Harry’s Will to stop. Draco waited till the magic pulled on the chandelier before he threw the bloody pouch. It landed not too far out of Harry’s reach.Maybe he recognised the bag, maybe it was just desperation but Harry crawled towards it and scooped it out of the way of an incoming gust that blew two legs from an armoire deep into the opposite wall. “There’s nothing to bury it in.” Harry held onto the bag, but couldn’t stop himself from clasping his hands over his ears again. Draco could only hope the leather and coating would protect till Potter got his hands on the damn seed. Agency would be nice right about now.“The roots will find the earth, just use the bloody thing--” The marble was shredded more and more until Draco was scared that the whole Manor was going to fall; he was glad Scorpius was not here to see this, “--Before you destroy everything!”Lotty quivered beside him and Draco watched in horror as the seed began to grow without Harry putting a hand onto it. Oh bugger. He’d been wrong. So terribly, terribly wrong. This wasn’t a Will issue at all. But it didn’t matter as the seed sprouted, faster than Draco thought ever possible. The howling died and was replaced with the lurch of leaves and branches, the swirling replaced with the sound of brick and stone being pushed to the ground. Grew and grew it did, until it shot out from the roof, its roots dropping into the Manor’s foundations like it was made of sand and still-- it grew. Lotty and Draco stood back, retreating into the next room only for those walls to be brought down by an errant low-bearing branch. When the destruction stopped and the night air chilled the room Draco returned to see Harry with his hand against the trunk. Clambering over the oversized roots, Draco pulled him away before it ate everything. Harry eyes were bleary, his face ashen. Draco looked around his sitting room, then to the roof - which no longer sat fully on top of the house, but in pieces at his bare feet. “Well, my father will definitely hear about this.” Harry yanked away from Draco’s hand at the scruff of his clothing, his face souring and Draco tutted, “That was joke, Harry. Keep up.” He was trying to lessen the tension. He was trying to stop the adrenaline that told him he was going to die if he didn’t do something, anything. Everything was fine, even Potter not getting his self-depreciating humour. Potter always assumed he meant the worst. Draco made his way back over some smaller roots, this time taking the easier, less robust path.“Where-Where are you going?” It was the stumble over the word that stopped Draco. Potter didn’t sound fine. Turning back, he saw that Harry was like a kicked crup, desperate to not be left on its own and ever eager to follow. Knowing how sapped of energy Harry must be, Draco doubted he could stand never mind stand. But the bloody Gryffindor was trying to stand up, pushing himself again.“We can talk once I’m dressed.” Draco nodded, and watched as Harry finally stopped trying to act the hero. Draco checked a sleeve and found it ruined with magical residue bleeding the colours to a horrid purple. He ignored the red. “Lotty, make some tea would you?” And he headed for his bedroom, eager to assess the damage before having a talk with Potter about his problem.Potions. That was all Draco could think of that would cause this. And Draco wasn’t in the head-space to broach such a topic yet. He needed a breather. Potter needed help and Draco wasn’t sure if he could.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Draco made it to his bedroom before he fell against the door and slid down it as his legs gave out. What the fuck just happened? His hands trembled and Draco couldn’t tell if it was from shock of the fact a bloody All-Mother tree was now implanted in his sitting room or because that magic in the air was gone. He checked on his arms, blood stained over where his Death Mark once sat. He laughed, bitter. Great. “Okay.” Draco stood and decided to take his time changing. Ignoring Potter downstairs, so long as he wasn’t foolish enough to touch the trunk of the tree he should be fine. It was weird noticing the damage, the ruin on his clothing when he wasn’t sure where or when it came from. Was the pain in his arm from jumping between locations too fast, or was his cut arm from glass? When? Draco hadn’t considered himself capable of hyper fixating on something, not like Nott does. He liked to multi-task, do several things in tandem for the most efficient time spent.His feet were cut badly and it was only when Draco put socks on did he realise. Wearing proper clothing lessened his nerves. The healing spells took away most of the pain. Another task off his checklist. As he went through them, his hands shook less.“Okay,” Draco said to himself again, not sure how to calm the mental jitters. How did Potter do this kinda thing everyday? Well, before. Before he took over the department and was running around with partners and solving crimes up close and personal.“Are you still active?” The Manor was silent. “I’ll listen to you in future.”How was he suppose to restore them? He stared into the mirror, noting some cuts on his face, red from the cold and the fickle material of his pyjamas in the fields. Those could wait, he washed his face keen to remove the dust from the bricks and fallen roof. Lotty popped into existence and Draco wiped his face dry. “Mister Harry Potter asks if you’ll be much longer.”“No, I’ll be right down. Lotty-- thank you for your help.”The elf left, humming a tune with Draco in-tow. The room was gone and nothing remained but these roots, everywhere in varying heights. A tray, served by Lotty, sat next to Harry on the floor. “Well, this wasn’t what I would call fun,” Draco said when he spied Harry picking at what seemed to be the fabric of the curtains hidden beneath the roots and mess. “This one looks different.” Harry looked up at the tree, in no longer held the translucent aspect, but its bark black and shimmering. “Why?”“It’s impossible for a human’s magic to grow an All-Mother tree.”“But I did.” Harry curled into himself, started back picking at the curtain.“No, not really.” Draco took to sitting on one of the roots that let him sit high. He could see Harry’s face was covered in the same scratches and brick-dust. “I know what’s wrong with you.”“You do?” The fact Harry sounded hopeful made Draco shift, and levitate over a cup of tea. This was going to be worse than any conversation they’d ever had. “Look,” Draco scratched his head, not sure where to start. “I’m going to say a bunch of things and they might be accurate, they might not. But it really is impossible for a human’s magic to do this to a Casting Tree, this takes more - mythical creature means. Or near an enchanted spring, or cultivated over centuries of numerous different families. One person just doesn’t take a Casting Tree seed and make a bloody All-Mother.”“But I made this.” Harry didn’t sound like he wanted to admit that. Which might make this easier. Draco sipped his tea, while Lotty tended to Harry, offering a cup to him. He took it in both hands but didn’t make any effort to drink. Draco spied the yellow markings, interwoven around the brim - it was Astoria’s, then after her passing, Scorpius adopted it for all manners of beverage. Draco's was green where Scorpius' was yellow. “Right because you don’t just have your magic.”“Voldemort’s dead.” Harry looked at him as if Draco was going to argue that point.Draco grimaced. Okay, not his best choice of words. “No, I mean--” Draco rubbed his face, okay, so this could have him gutted like a fish again. “--I’m going to… assume you have been taking potions.” Harry flinched, “Potions that have a certain standard ingredient that was soaked in something else. Whatever mythical creature’s fluids.” Harry’s disgust was clear and Draco moved on, “Whatever potion you have is more potent than the average one anyone just goes out and buys.”“I don’t understand.”“Okay, look,” Draco levitated his cup and used his wand to add water, till it was filled to the brim. “This is what everyone is with their magic, it’s full. The strength of that magic depends on each person.” Draco flicked his wand up and some of the water separated, “When you use your Will to complete spells, your magic isn’t lost, it’s just not available in that person at that moment.” He grabbed Potter’s cup, who had it clasped between two hands and didn’t put up any fight for it.“What potion was it?”“Sleeping Draught.” Harry looked away, and Draco didn’t linger on it.“Right, so let’s say this is you after a day’s work.” The cup’s contents half in the cup, the rest stay in circular forms in the air above. “Then, you take your Sleeping Draught - which has whatever mystical creature magic in it.” Some of Harry’s tea is added, speaking of which he’s looking at Draco as if he’s grown another head. “Then, the magic before, returns.” The cup overflows and Draco squinted at the sight, “You made an All-Mother, so my guess is you’ve been taking that potion for at least, what, five years?”“Six.”“How many times did you increase the dose?” Draco busied himself with refilling them with tea. Tea was needed. Tea solved everything. He tried not to think of what could possibly have happened to Harry six years ago, or what could horrify Harry after the War? What did he see in his dreams? Was it Voldemort? What was worse than that?Harry’s mouth near disappeared into that thin line and Draco waited. He couldn’t say he would enjoy telling Potter about how bad his nightmares were - why else take a Sleeping Draught for so long? Harry scowled at him, and Draco went back to dealing with tea. He grabbed the nearest one and watched as Harry answered. It was always possible Harry would have refused to speak further and Draco went back to his perch. “Three, or four. I think. Ginny asked Charlie to make them.” Harry rubbed at his neck and accepted the cup of tea again. This time he seemed to stare at his reflection instead of nursing it in his hands.“The Weasley that works with dragons? So, maybe dragonblood.” Dragonblood was powerful. More than too much for a simple Sleeping Draught. Charlie must be decent at brewing but not interested in potions enough to know the drawbacks of using different ratios of ingredients. Harry stared as Draco drank some freshly made tea. Draco expected Harry to launch to Charlie’s defence, to hear how he was making it sound wrong and that Charlie would never do such a thing (not deliberately, Draco would argue back and maybe Harry would say--) “I’m sorry I destroyed your house.”Draco blinked, his guard less lowered and more unbalanced. He hadn’t really thought of his house being destroyed as it was. The All-Mother tree was in the way, but nothing Draco couldn’t repair in a few days after it vanished from lack of magic. The windows were a problem but nothing galleons couldn’t fix. Wards were the only problem.“Maybe I deserve it in a karmic backlash from earlier.” Draco sipped again and watched as Harry rotated the cup in his hands. “I don’t think that means I get to--” He looked around, and seemingly saw the lack of roof for the first time. “--I don’t think I can keep this from Hermione.”Draco snorted, imaging how that conversation would go, until he saw Harry was serious. “You can’t tell Hermione. She’s the Minister. Your boss.”“And my best friend.”“And your boss,” Draco countered, hoping it would sink in. “If you tell Hermione, she’s going to have to force you to give up your job. And if that happens, the Prophet will be all over her - and you - and everyone else who's ever so much as stood in line with you to give an opinion as to why.”“So, we’re just going to keep this to ourselves,” Harry said and nodded. For a second he raised his cup to his mouth, only to realise what he was doing before lowering it again without taking a drink. Draco was offended. He wouldn’t poison tea. “Did you just--” Try and lead him to that conclusion? “--that wasn’t very subtle.”“There’s a tree in your house. I don’t need to be subtle.” Draco couldn’t help it as much as he told himself to bottle the bubbling feeling up and through it away, but he devolved into giggling and then to laughter at the ridiculousness of it all. There was a tree in his house. An All-Mother. Because of Potter. Because of course it bloody was. He sighed, remembering the house wasn’t just a building, “Lotty!” The elf reappeared, “Do me a favour and check the heirlooms, make sure none of them have ran off.” “All are safe. Lotty already made sure!”Oh. “Finally, some competence.” Lotty’s ears perked up before she gave a nervous look to the ruined marble floor. “Will I clean this mess now?”“Wait till the tree shrivels.” Draco took a drink of his tea and loathed the idea Mother or Father would arrive for an unannounced visit. Lotty hummed her tune and popped away. Other than keeping Scorpius safe she was always asked to keep a close eye on the Darker Artefacts within the Manor. “You don’t have to drink it.” Harry froze as if caught, “Do you not like tea?” Draco leaned over to see if he’d made even an attempt. “No, no it’s fine--” Harry pulled the cup closer to him.“The Prophet would have a field-day with this. Harry Potter, Vanquisher of Evil and Detester of Tea.”“I like tea, I just don’t--”“Want to drink what I handed you?” Draco prepared himself for the worst.“Yes--no.” He slumped against a root behind him and Draco wasn’t sure what to take of it. Which was the honest answer? The sting was there and now, Draco wished he hadn’t bothered to push. “No, I just--” Harry kept spinning the cup around in his hands, “It’s nothing.”As Draco watched, Harry was hesitant to drink. “...Is this a Muggle thing?”“I don’t think - maybe. Do you… share goblets?”“Yes?” Draco wanted to know now what Harry was even talking about right now. Muggle Studies never said anything about sharing cups or goblets or anything of the sort. “What sort of Muggle faux paus have I committed?” Harry went a strange red that started at his neck and crawled up it. “I haven’t proposed marriage, have I?” Harry spluttered his first sip of tea and Draco laughed at the coughing fit and the flailing. So, it was nothing legally binding in the Muggle world. He only knew of the oaths and whatnot of older Wizards and Witches that liked to make sure loyalty was followed through on. But really, had Potter never shared anything with Ron or Hermione? Blaise practically stole his pumpkin juice at Hogwarts every dinner.Draco waited until Harry calmed, him trying again to drink and asked, “Did I proposition you?”“It’s a stupid thing. A kid thing, it just popped into my head.” Harry shook his head more, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and Draco wasn’t sure what to think. “To share goblets?” Only Muggle children shared? Was that was what he was to take away from this? Or just shared beverages? Or was it the fact it was in-- Oh. Draco didn’t see the yellow on Harry’s cup, but green -- someone else’s cup? Muggles shared the same bathroom cubicle, didn’t they? What was the big deal? He would never understand Muggles.“I just mean. I’m overthinking things. Forget I ever mentioned it.”“If you don’t tell me I’ll ask Hermione. I’m meeting her in the morning.” He didn’t raise to the bait and sipped more. According to Harry, this topic of conversation was over. Fine. He would ask Hermione. And Draco would know then. And Draco would make sure Harry knew, he knew and he could win, petty victory or not. “Speaking of which, you can be on guard duty when I step out.”“That’s not my job.” Harry scowled into his tea, but didn’t meet Draco’s eye. Draco supposed it was difficult for intimidation to be flared with a blush. “The hole in my roof says otherwise.” Harry scoffed, was about to open his mouth and probably be combative, say whatever impulsive thing he had in his head and Draco refused it. He bet him to the new topic. “How about this arrangement? I’ll make your Sleeping Draughts without any ingredients that would prolong your lack of control.”“And in return?”“When the wards go back up you add to them.” Harry didn’t agree but neither did he refuse. So, leaving that till after his early morning meeting, Draco left Harry and the All-Mother. He didn’t expect Harry to chat so much with Lotty, or for her to accept his questions so easily. Lotty wasn’t a ‘front of house’ elf. She stumbled too much over words, made a mess of requests and even cried over having to greet those she didn’t like. Hours later, Draco saw how Potter footered about, hovered nearby and tried to make it look like he wasn’t on edge as the time neared that Draco would be leaving to his morning meeting with Hermione. He was almost out the door when Harry blurted out, “Hermione doesn’t know about the potions.”Well, now it made more sense. Of course Hermione didn’t know about the potions. But Ginny had, he’d said that night to avoid them. Such a fierce magical reaction was on point of Harry consuming one too many. “Can I ask, did Ginny not tell you to avoid potions?” It was never a comfortable moment for Draco to ask about spouses, about the wives and husbands who were very different to what he and Astoria had. He wasn’t sure he could ever have that happiness again.“She did. I thought she was just using you as a mouthpiece, I guess.” Harry shuffled and Draco looked over him for any more hints as to why the embarrassment. All Draco saw was more cuts and dirt that Potter had refused to remove despite Draco’s permission to use the part of the Manor that still stood to clean up. “She’s told you before, then. To stop--”Harry burst, as if the lines he rehearsed would disappear unless he got them into the air, “I’m not addicted, okay? I get it, everyone says that blah blah blah blah, I’m not. I can stop as soon as I can get some sleep that doesn’t wake me up every two minutes. I can stop and don’t need some Healer talking to me as if I’m broken--”“I would never suggest a Healer in the first place. They’d remove you from your position if you so much admit to requiring one.” Draco was more than aware of the strict and necessary health of Aurors and Unspeakables. If Draco were to guess, the new rules were meant to reinforce a healthy workforce to admit issues, receive help and return to work. It did the opposite.“You’re not?”“If anything, Harry I’m more impressed over how Hermione and Ron have managed to cover you from any backlash these past years.” This made perfect sense. Why the Weasley was back in the Aurors, why Potter was watched with such a careful eye but allowed to spend time ‘sick’ despite looking perfectly well. Attaining another puzzle piece was always a buzz in itself. Now, Draco was more prepared on how to handle Hermione and her no doubt loyalty to Harry.“You are?”“Stay put. Unless of course the Manor falls down.” Lotty made a sound of pure horror at the suggestion and Draco smiled at the poor thing, she never did get his more pessimistic humour. He excused himself, but stopped at the threshold and decided to play it safe.“If anyone visits, you can make up whatever lies you wish. Just make it reasonable.” Harry just nodded, in a dumb, sort of endearing way, like a crup being told to wait without question. Hermione’s office was as clean as Draco’s sitting room. Books were everywhere, lines of paper were overhead, flying out and in. She sat in chair that wasn’t plush or overly comfortable but had wheels - a novel inventions by Muggles - and Draco knocked on the door as he saw her brow deepen the longer she read. “I hoped you’d come in today,” she said. Waved her wand and the door shut and the usual charms for their privacy went up. After a night of magic that tore at his skin, this was a warm balm. “I’ve a few things to tell and a few to ask.”“I have to ask you to sign this,” she slipped over a long document. His stomach dropped and he shifted at the sheer outspoken gall she had to do this. He wanted turn and run. ANIMAGUS REGISTRY FORM“Don’t misunderstand, Draco. I expect you to take the form with you.” Draco blinked, unsure how much of her words to believe, “Hide it wherever you wish but I need it stamped, today. So if anything happens, I can say I knew because you told me already, today.”Swallowing the lump in his throat he couldn’t allow this to happen, “No one will know? Not even that husband of yours?” He was spiteful, he was stuck. “It’s not the first secret this job has made me keep from Ronald.”“And Harry?” Because Harry definitely didn’t know, he was still under the impression he was forced into that form. “I don’t talk about work with my friends, it helps to separate the two. Draco sit and sign it.” No platitudes or begging, bribery or blackmail. It could be worse, it could be logged into the Ministry where anyone with high enough clearance could take a gander. He could take this and hide it. He could do that. He could do this. Hermione was trustworthy. Wasn't she?“Very well,” Draco signed it, loathing how his name dried and turned a fire red before an acknowledgement of the day burned into the corner. Hermione peered over the desk to check before she smiled. “Thank you, Draco. It means a lot.” Draco was guilty over removing that smile, but it was necessary. “The purebloods are moving against you. Again. Goyle is a lackey, like usual. I don’t know who orchestrates it yet.”“It’s about the subsidiary vote, then.” Hermione sat back in her chair and Draco wasn’t sure how calm she could be at the reveal someone - somewhere - was coming after her and her job. “No. It’s not about anything you can change.” Draco dropped his eyes to his shoes because he knew whenever she heard the term, she probably thought of the word engraved on her arm. By his aunt. The torture she inflicted. Draco wanted to say he couldn’t remember her sobbing and screaming in his Manor. But that would another lie to add to the pile. He didn’t look up until she asked, “How many?” And he didn’t glance at the way she had pulled her arm under the table, out of view. “I have twelve votes for you but I assume Pansy and Theo’s parents along with them will be against. Golye and the other Death Eater families will rally behind them. That about evens it out. Blaise might be swayed either way. I’ve some favours I could call in if necessary.”“No, not yet. Though keep them close,” Hermione sighed, “Thanks for letting me know. I imagine I’ll know more soon too.”Draco stood up to leave and then remembered. “I wanted to ask you about something Muggle, if you have time.”“Where did you see anything Muggle?” she jested in good humour and Draco relented. “From Harry. He acted very… odd and wouldn’t explain.” Draco saw her shake her head and tut, “I was wondering if I’d done something terrible.” No, he didn’t. (Had he?) But an avenue to appease guilt might help Hermione to reveal what really happened. Especially if it truly was a childish action. “Sure but I’ll be busy while you explain.” Hermione didn’t ask for confirmation she just started writing. “I shared a cup of tea with Potter and I don’t understand why that made him blush.” Hermione stopped writing, she bit her lip before asking, “From a different cup or the same cup? And he blushed?”Okay, now Draco knew he was a touch on the paranoid side but this was not the conversation he had envisioned and as such: it was going very, very bad.“Yes? It wasn’t on purpose? It was the same cup. Does that make a difference?” Draco did not want to hear how he had actually offended Potter in some way. That might go to explaining why he wasn’t too keen on staying in the Manor. Hermione put her quill down after three words and that, that in itself was horrifying and Draco could feel the sweat on the nape of his neck and -- he shouldn’t have said anything. He’d take it back, all of it.“I think I should say, Harry I mean, has a thing - not a bad thing but, but a thing about affection.” Hermione may have started to explain - what, Draco wasn’t sure - but he regarded that ever growing smile on her face as dangerous.“What I did was--”“No, no. He just wouldn’t have felt very comfortable explaining it.” “Oh, so it was a--” An insult. Good. That explained it. Draco would never bring this up again. “It’s a joke, a juvenile one at that. But it’s called an indirect kiss.”Ron opened the door and the wards fluttered away--“I did not kiss him!”--Draco wanted to defend himself and run away and why was this escalating, Ron shut the door-- “Indirect-kiss thing?” Ron squinted his eyes and suddenly, Draco found himself furious. What?“Did you know about this? This Muggle… buffoonery?” How many Muggle traditions were this weird? How, just how--How was he ever going to share anything ever again? Ron gave him the only sympathetic smile in the room. Unsettling.“I ended up sharing one with Edgard. Speak for yourself.” Ron faked a retch and Draco didn’t care. He didn’t care Ron and Edgard shared a drink. Why was this even called a kiss? What could possibly make this a kiss? Pansy and Astoria. That was it. That's all who Draco had snogged, he did not-- No.“How is that even a--”“Don’t ask. Seriously. Don’t. It’s the grossest--” Ron grabbed his shoulders and nearly shook him, but his face was serious and Draco couldn’t not ask. He couldn’t not know what made Ron’s face seem as if Draco had turned into a human-spider.“I want to know. Now.” And it was when Ron slouched and sighed, and Hermione yelled did Draco realise he should have listened. Remained ignorant and in confusion. Not enlightened. To this.“You exchanged saliva!” A cackling Hermione spun on her chair and Draco decided she was mad. Mad as the Muggles. And Draco reared back, desperate to escape this - this Muggle nonsense and those who knew of it. He heard Ron offer an apology but Draco darted away because oh Merlin that was - no. No, he didn't want to think about-- what kind of sickening monsters were Muggles?That-- Draco cried out and left the Ministry and headed back to the Manor. He made his way to the lift and tried, failed, to stop replaying Hermione’s laugh in his head. How was he even supposed to go home and face-- Wait. The fellows on the lift cooped themselves into the corner as Draco glared ahead. Harry knew this would happen. Oh, that wanker. That absolute tosspot -- Potter had played him.Potter would pay. As soon as Draco's face stopped burning. Fuck!
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A group of purebloods were after the Minister. Someone was after the Rings of Celius. His house lacked the wards of old and remained vulnerable. He’d allowed Potter to pull one over him with this Muggle notion of trading spittle meant a kiss (that said too much on what Muggles thought a kiss entailed, really). And in his rush out of the Ministry he noticed no registry form in his hands. Bugger.He wasn’t on top form lacking sleep. Nothing dulled the mind faster than fatigue. Unacceptable for a Malfoy, he heard his father lecture. What could he do but soldier on? Potter had agreed in return for potions - another task added to his list - to add some of that ridiculous magic. The wards should hold after that, how long the All-Mother took to collapse was a mystery. As was the next attack on the Manor. Meek wasn’t what a Malfoy was - no longer, not with Voldemort gone. He could return to Hermione’s Office and grab the form from her desk. But he wouldn’t. Maybe he should move permanently to France and retire of his political games. What could he do? Return and face Hermione? Or go home and deal with Potter? Failing to pick the document up was the more embarrassing of the two. Home it was. He’d send her an owl later, not that she hadn’t noticed already. She had made a mistake. One which gave him an advantage to rile Potter. He’d let Hermione explain, practically pushed Draco to ask someone else. Because Potter was just as embarrassed over it. Draco Malfoy had this - if only his pride would settle at the sound of laughter in his head. Revenge, tree, wards. That was the plan. He apparated where he stood, just outwith the Anti-Apparation wards and returned to the sitting room. The All-Mother was shrinking, her roots no longer extended towards the other rooms and her once black shimmering bark was turning purple. Her leaves were spines now blanketing the floor, translucent and shiny. Maybe in a few hours, with no other magic to feed her, she’d be gone today.Lotty and Potter had their backs to him, both still sitting on the floor. From what he could hear, Lotty was bugging Potter to have more. Draco waited for second and decided, he might as well. “Potter! Is Hermione having me on or is what we did really counted as Muggle snogging?” It was entirely worth it to see Potter spray out a mouthful of tea and choke. Lotty jumped out of the way and scowled at Potter’s poor manners. Good. Although, this time Potter’s red face wasn’t a sure thing. Was he embarrassed or did Draco need to spell the tea from his lungs before he died?Coughing and spluttering, Harry became more animated as he twisted round to show his disgust. “No! It’s not actually a bloody-- no. What the hell did she tell you?” Lotty made herself small and disappeared without a word. If Potter thought it so fun to mess him about Muggle ignorance, well, Draco would play the part as a bloody idiot. One that questions and never lets the conversation move on. Potter would never bring up anything Muggle related again. “So, how does it work? If I accepted was I the recipient or was I the instigator?” Draco watched as Harry’s disgust turned into concern, a suspicious sort and Draco fought not to laugh at his face. “Hermione didn’t say anything like that.” As if she hadn't howled at him and made Draco flee. Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and Draco tutted. It was no fun if Harry knew he was teasing, that wasn’t the point.“No, of course not. She’s a busy woman, Potter. I’m asking you to define it better. It was nice of her to explain so much. You brought it up. You explain it.”“Why are you fixating on this?” Harry wiped the back of his hands over his mouth and chin, then on his trousers. “Why not? I’m curious how many people I’ve kissed ‘indirectly,' is it so common with Muggles that it doesn’t matter? Is that why you didn’t just ask for another cup?”“This is the stupidest thing you’ve ever--”“Wait. You didn’t drink from the yellow. So, my drink was uncontaminated, right? Does that change anything? You said it to me earlier: you know you’re blushing, right?” Prodding Harry's side with his foot wasn't as funny as Harry batted him away. This definitely felt like a win for Draco. “You’re such an arse.” Shaking his head, Harry tried his best. “How long before my magic listens to me again?”“Which part of this conversation is making you try to change the subject? I thought it wasn’t anything serious.” Draco knew he'd taken it too far when Harry shook his head and picked himself up. “I’m leaving. Unless you want another room destroyed.” He shoulder checked Draco on his way passed and Draco rolled his eyes.“No you’re not. You need new potions for one.” He reached out, grabbed the scruff of Harry’s clothing and pulled him back. Potter might as well have growled for how feral he was. “You’re genuinely angry.” Not only that but Potter was ready for a fight, the muscle in his jaw twitching and as Draco let go, Harry’s fists shook in effort. Never mind how close was Potter from hexing him instead, how close was he from punching him in the face?Harry said nothing for a long time. Not wanting to cut off whatever sliver of control, Draco remained still, silent too.“I’m always angry these days.”“You’ve been drinking dragonblood for years, I’m not surprised.”“What has that got to do with anything?” The scowl returned tenfold and Draco would like to think he didn’t have to soothe Potter after every word.“Dragons aren’t exactly the cheeriest of mythical creatures.” Watching, Draco saw Harry wasn’t lying in his struggle to see reason.“Your name fits then.” It surprised Draco, how ugly anyone could become when they spouted vitriol so freely. Potter was never this sensitive before, never this easy to mock and push. Those potions hadn’t done him any favours. Harry closed his eyes and ground out a reply.“Sorry, everything annoys me. Noises, people - everything.” He scratched his head furiously, and Draco forced the laugh down again. Did his hair finally become a point of contention?Extreme irritability. Not the most shocking in terms of side effects of consuming potions. Really, think of Potter to end up with the dull ones. However, as he saw Harry glare at his feet Draco considered the time limit before Harry exploded, might be closer than first thought. “Let’s fix you that potion now.” It would seal the deal, a physical reminder even Harry couldn’t ignore. But Harry not knowing anything about brewing, Draco extended some critical reminders. No potion was miraculous, no matter what it appeared to be. “Your magic isn’t going to set itself right from the instant you take one. You’ll need a while for the dragonblood to filter out.”“How long does that take?” Harry snapped and wouldn’t appreciate it but Draco needed to settle this with Potter as quickly as possible. He still needed to message Hermione about sending the form back, concealed. Harry couldn’t complain too much if Draco was walking off to help him. So, Harry was abandoned in the ruined sitting room, and he headed for his laboratory.Harry practically walked up his heels as they went. And as they entered a clean, but too pristine for it to be in regular use, lab Draco set about finding the ingredients he needed. Cupboards and cabinets lined one side, the other bookcases stacked high with theory, recipes and notes from Malfoy’s through the ages. Centre stage was a plot of earth, numerous non-aggressive plants out in the open. The air here always was perfumed to the point of Draco tasting floral at the back of his mouth.“No idea. I don’t use dragonblood. Too unstable, too strong. A single dose might take four weeks. You’ve been at it for years.” Draco set about his lab, not comfortable with the staring scowl that followed his every move. He snatched a clean looking measuring cup from the cupboard, two spoons for the mucus and a mortar and pestle to grind the mixture of herbs. “How many do you take in week?”“Seven,” Harry answered, and Draco tried not to response to that in itself. What Harry meant couldn’t be he had taken a potion every day, for six years that contained a volatile ingredient most brewers and masters wouldn’t add for the sheer integrity of the potion. Dragonblood did not have the longest shelf life and other than innate power there was always a more stable, cheaper alternative. “What year did Charlie take over the brewing?” Draco turned his nose up at the jar labelled in his handwriting, ‘Flobberworm Mucus,’ and took a large dollops on the spoons before setting them back into an overhead cabinet. “Year three.” Doing the math in his head Draco scowled, at first believing himself wrong that in his age and weariness had him unable to do simple sums. “Potter, that’s--” He did it again, the weeks in a year multiplied by three, times seven. Draco knew he was right. “You bloody idiot! That’s over a thousand vials with dragonblood.” He gave a once over to Potter again. How was he still sane? Blood of any creature had enough to cause addiction — and that was the kindest results. But Harry didn’t look mad any longer, only tired and torn as he rested his head against the stone, arms folded into him as if to keep him warm. “So, how long am I going to feel like this?” He might sleep standing there, eyes closing and Draco’s curiosity was awakened. Was there ever a documented case of such prolonged use with such a potion? The longest study was a year and that was ended because the afflicted associated lacked enjoyment and desire for life, all participants wanted to sleep and sleep and nothing else. Apathy made them change into different people. The study ended in failure, its two year goal unreachable and unethical. No one tried again.“Angry irritated, or angry burn down the house?” Draco tired to distract himself, not look so keen on the answer. He nearly sneezed at the cuts of valerian sprigs. Not very fresh but they would do their job. “Hmm, both. It veers between them.” Harry made a frustrated little noise then and Draco paused in handling the cauldron, it would make too much noise as Harry’s voice was now all but a murmur, “I’d really just like some sleep.”“Something we both agree on.” He set aside the basic herbs to be mashed together to create a standard ingredient primer. Harry made an attempt to open his eyes but didn’t get very far, “I thought you said you could make the Sleeping Draught?”“I can, it’s a simple potion. I just like to dream.” Draco sighed as he set the last, sprigs of fresh lavender next to the cauldron. Everything was set up. “Once this is brewed you can test it here.” Harry almost tired to argue, his frown returning. “Don’t. It makes more sense for you to stay here unless you want to go home, drink a potion and potentially have your dragonblood go crazy again and have to return. If something doesn’t work, then the quickest way is to stay nearby for me to check or fix it.”Harry might have said something in reply. Might have said several, really. Brewing was always an easy task. But it still required focus. Preparing, adding ingredients keeping an eye on temperature and stirring in the correct orientation and intensity was textbook. A list of tasks, Draco found simple to follow. He never understood how people could incorrectly brew a potion. Just follow the instructions, to the letter and wha-lah, a potion. Child’s play, really. It was a calming activity, one with simple and obvious progress. Taking the mixed herbs, he added them to the mortar, crushed them until they were still crisp - not yet mushed - but broken and battered enough to break open each fig. Draco magicked the water in the cauldron. Then he started to measure the broken herbs. He removed half from the mortar, two measures worth. Adding to it, his sprigs of lavender, and a touch of water too and this time created a paste. Thick, but not clumpy or sticky. He measured it three and a half, more than he needed. The cauldron got its first ingredient, then its second - the mucus and the other two measures of herbs. The heat underneath, Draco kept an eye on the thermometer, making sure it was not rising sharply and boiling too strong. A smell of spice, strong enough to tingle at his nose told him to add the two measures of paste into the cauldron. He added some magic, tapping his wand on the cauldron twice. Now, he had time to waste. Rubbing at his neck and shoulder Draco glanced at some movement to his right and flinched. Well, he had forgot Potter was here and he didn’t seem too happy at that. What Draco could only assume of the potions Harry was taking previous was the staple way in brewing the Sleeping Draught. Changes were necessary to this recipe and it would another hour at that before Draco could add in the extras to give it enough kick. Draco used his hour wisely, spending it browsing cupboards and adding the jars, the measuring cups and more clean spoons to the table where the cauldron sat bubbling. Going back and forth, Draco picked several ‘could-be's’, ‘might-works’ and ‘possibly-promising’ ingredients next to one another. Now to remove those that would negatively impact the result.Harry must have said something, several time over as he pushed himself away from the wall and stood next to Draco, looming over to have a look in the cauldron. “You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?” Draco didn’t hear much with the way Harry kept on muttering. “What is it? I’m focusing right now.” Draco ignored the paranoia Harry might ruin the bloody potion and kept an eye on where he put his hands. He might even ruin it by being too near, if that magic decided to make itself heard. Why couldn’t he just stay, over there, next to the comfy wall and out of Draco’s way.“I said, ‘You didn’t even notice I left,’ and I’m guessing that’s a no.” Draco stared at the thermometer, still within an acceptable heat range. “You left?”“Checking the tree.” Draco used the silence to assume using herbaria wasn’t compatible with the flabberghasted leeches. Then he could only use one, and considering that the problem was--“Draco, seriously, can you listen?”Draco hummed, he wasn’t interested in whatever Potter had to say. Poppy heads might work, combined with the herbaria and boiled. But boiled too long and it might lack the added effectiveness straight away. No, no, that wouldn’t work. This would be much easier if he knew what Charlie’s recipe. “We could use the seeds to sap the magic from the All-Mother.”“That’s the dumbest idea you’ve had yet.” Draco checked the borage and saw some leaves were starting to tint brown and red, rotting away. Best veto them now. “The All-Mother is the brain, it absorbs the magic the Casting Trees bring her. The whole reason they disappear is because her roots aren’t connected to them to keep them stable.”“But we wouldn’t be giving them magic.”“Casting Trees take the magic and feed it to her. It doesn’t go the other way just because you’d like it to, Potter.” Draco placed the bluish herbs down and didn’t see the flash of rage across Harry’s face until he was being shoved against table - thankfully build into the wall and floor to minimise movement - that would bruise.“What are you doing?” He spared only a glance to the cauldron and then Harry was back to shoving him again.“Stop ignoring me.” Okay, Potter was nuts, absolutely gone off the bend. Extreme irritability coupled with, what? What even did this stem from? Being told his idea was shit? Draco kept his eyes on Potter, whose face twisted in fury. “Harry,” Draco started carefully, at ease despite the fact he was not. The potion needed only a few more minutes before the next batch of ingredients went into cauldron. He needed Harry to just stop, gain control back and sit back down. Neither of them would benefit from a restored All-Mother, a blown up laboratory and Draco was not looking to visit the hospital any time soon. “You need to calm down.”Please? Because angry Potter was just a tad… scary. Maybe he understood Ginny a bit better now.“Why are you looking at me like that?” Gulping back a snarky comment Draco looked away. Best not upset him further.“No, no, no. Not again. I didn’t mean -- sorry.”As Potter melted to the floor, holding his hands over his ears, Draco’s gaze darted to the exit. Calling on Lotty to remove Harry might work once. If Harry wanted to come back, nothing would stop him. A plan with no resolution was no plan at all. Now, Harry was squeezing his eyes shut and Draco squatted down.“Harry.” he tried at first to coax his hands away but Harry didn’t budge. They struggled a little, until Draco pushed his thumbs between Potter’s jaw and wrists. The potion hissed as it boiled over into the flames and Draco dismissed it as a failure. What a lot of good it would do anyway. For another struggle, all his own, Draco panicked if his handling of Potter had made him far worse. “Harry, I’m going to need you to tell me which of these apply to you.” Harry made no acknowledgement he’d heard. “Do you hear things? See things you don’t want? Thoughts that just -- appear out of nowhere?” Draco pried Harry’s hands away and asked again, and again until Harry bowed into himself. Only now, he latched onto Draco’s wrists and Draco felt his bones nearly crumble under the pressure.“It’s not me. I don’t want to. It’s not.” Harry took a shaking, upsetting breath, “I think about how I could hurt someone and I’d get away with it. I’m Harry Potter, everyone should be grateful to me. I’m the Master of Death, everyone--” Draco knew most people boasted, exaggerated but that ‘Master of Death,’ what a thing to think, “--everyone should just do what I say. I hear it, I hear how they think I’m just perfect and I hate it. I hate it. I hate them all.” Draco listened to his rambling and also, its inconsistencies, a clear indication Harry Potter was both warring against itself and how the blood was changing him.This was going to need more than a simple sleeping potion.“I want to hurt people.” Draco couldn’t see his face but he knew he was crying. His words choked and smothered him, and Draco hadn't a clue what he could say that would matter. “I don’t want to. I don’t. That’s not me.”“Harry, it’s the blood that’s making you feel this way, we just need to filter it out. Then you’ll be back at work and everything will go back to how it was.” Draco was always taught never to give or listen to platitudes instead of facts and evidence. But he rambled, unsure how to comfort and make sure Harry didn’t think his scenario was the end all. Draco didn’t want Harry to be defeated by a bloody potion after defeating Voldemort. That wasn’t fair. The world couldn’t be that unfair.“I can’t be near people. I just keep thinking, how easy it would be to kill you. To cast another Spectrum Sempra.” Alarmed, hearing his blood in his ears Draco tried to escape Harry’s grip. Twisting and pulling but Harry didn’t move, all it did was make Harry curl and bow more into himself. “I scare everyone. And sometimes, I think - good.” His feet were starting to go numb, a threat of pins and needles and Draco took a chance, a risk to put Harry back in control for a time. “A potion won’t help you, it’ll just keep adding onto this feeling. You need-- I need to ask Hermione for a release on an exotic animal. It will rid you of the blood but-- but it carries risk. A lot of risk.”Harry finally peered up, his face wet and blotchy from tears. It was odd seeing Harry Potter cry. Draco always assumed he was a little too well put together, a little too lucky for crying. He thought maybe, if he ever found Harry like this, he’d gloat. “What is it? I’ll try anything,” Harry sniffed and as if he’d gained his own mind back, he relaxed his hold on Draco’s wrists. “You could end up dead. Or a squib.” He’d still be off from work, avoiding the press about his affliction. But it might stop his mind from breaking under the aggressive instinct of a dragon. Draco tried to show confidence, it would work. But it might kill him. But it could work. “You’ll need a Healer or someone that knows how they work. I can’t - I don’t have the skillset to deal with this. I can’t do this for you. A potion is fine but this isn't my area.” An apology almost made it into the air. Draco wished he'd learned more about mythical creatures than their innards. All he'd cared about was what use they might hold in relation to brewing. If he knew more maybe, maybe he really could've saved Potter on his own."What is it?" In relief, Draco sighed as Harry let go and he resisted the urge to rub at them. Harry seemed to have switched back. For now. "A dragon parasite."
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Despite his namesake Draco didn’t know much about dragons. Despite facing off against one, Harry didn’t know much about dragons either. Between them both, their knowledge was underwhelming and would cost Potter his life. So, when Harry suggested Charlie Weasley, dragon-wrangler extraordinaire, Draco agreed, left the man to contact him all while Draco sought out a Healer that wouldn’t blather to the Prophet. Potentially, Draco might kill Harry Potter. Or turn him into a squib. Curing him was a dream, it seemed and Draco was expecting Charlie to renounce the plan as batshit insane and the Healer, going by her alias of Siobhan Goven, would point blank refuse. It didn’t stop him thinking about it: Harry Potter dying in his house. From a plan he’d concocted under some pressure, about a parasite Draco only knew in passing. The things were on the banned list for a reason of exotic materials. No breeding, owning, selling or buying the blasted things. Going by the loyalty of the Weasley family, Charlie might sneak one into the country. Harry probably could convince him. Draco did wonder, though, if Harry would let Charlie know it was his fault. Guilt-tripping and emotional blackmail didn’t seem Potter’s style. Draco might let it slip, only if Charlie became difficult. “You must tell me something. What procedure is it? Who’s the patient?” Siobhan clicked her tongue and Draco ignored her, allowing her into the Malfoy Manor while it was still ruined was a risk. One less than Harry’s life, and Draco supposed all he had agreed to was find him a Healer. Siobhan was a nasty sort of woman, Draco had decided on his first meeting. She cost more than Draco ever thought necessary for simple procedures only to realise nothing ever made it back - not even to St. Mongos. She was a fine example of a Healer then. A private and discreet Healer was worth ten times her weight in galleons. Draco shooed her around the Manor, avoiding the sitting room and going round back and through the garden to give the impression everything was fine. He did not expect to see a Weasley in his house, in a guestroom. Especially not one that could kill him without a wand. Ron was clearly the runt of the family. Draco motioned for Siobhan to step inside before he sealed them inside a privacy bubble. Unlike Siobhan who eyed Harry in the same wonder most who were grateful over the death of Voldemort, Draco eyed the thatched basket that sat on the chair, straps of bound leather and buckles keeping it closed. “I really don’t think this is good idea.” Charlie only gave them a quick look before he continued. “This could kill you Harry. Please.”“Harry Potter, I’m Siobhan Goven. I’ll assume you’re the one I’ve to, as Mr. Malfoy put it, ‘keep alive’, despite looking quite alive right now.” Siobhan disregarded the hulking Charlie, who took centre stage of the room. “You won’t die, not while I’m here.” Her arrogance was more of a relief.“I’m not willing to bet his life on that.” Charlie just settled into the Protective Older Brother archetype so easily. Draco rolled his eyes and scoffed at the posturing. This wasn’t up for Draco or Charlie to bicker and waste time. “You did when you decided to feed him dragonblood over the course of three years.” Harry scowled and lowered his head as Charlie’s gusto was knocked out of him. Glad that Charlie wasn’t keen to deny. Harry tried his best to send Draco a guilt-trip all his own, but that didn't work either. He wasn’t going to appease Charlie Weasley The Average Brewer (who knew nothing, really, really important). “Unless anyone has another suggestion, on how to remove the magic that’s innate to the dragonblood?”“I admit, I’m not sure what kind of procedure I’m being asked. Something to do with this,” Siobhan said and sat next to the basket. Whatever was inside made a curdling snarl, a gnashing and snapping sound of teeth. The basket held and Siobhan didn’t seem too alarmed. Potter eyed it, and Draco didn’t say anything on his own urge to have his wand in hand. “We should talk, probably, then.” Charlie scuffed at his feet and offered his hand to Siobhan, “I’m Charlie, we should hurry. We don’t want this little bugger being too hungry.”Draco let the two experts in their field talk about - whatever hypovolemic shock was - and - whatever ‘teeth ganglions’ were - and checked to see if Harry really was deciding this out of logic. Or, as he suspected, panic and fear this was the last and only resort. Harry didn’t fidget, wring his hands or do much other than sigh and sigh and sigh. So, Draco held back, stood at the wall beside Harry’s chair and waited. “Charlie thinks I’ll die.”“You might. You probably shouldn’t do this,” Draco said, knowing well how words not spoken were much worse when the opportunity had already risen and left. “I don’t think I could put a spin on having a dead Harry Potter in my house.” If Draco hadn’t spent years with Pansy and Blaise and their micro-expressions he might have missed the twitch in his jaw. “Right.” Charlie and Siobhan talked and talked and the longer they did the more anxious Draco came. What if this was the last chance to talk Potter out of this? What was he thinking, suggesting this? When Siobhan started to wave her wand, pointed at what appeared a lipstick holder, it bulked in size. Bigger it grew until, Siobhan was pulling out full potions and settling them aside.“You can pick a sedative that will make this less painful but know that moving around could cause more damage, or a paralysis potion that will render you safe but you’ll feel everything.”“Can’t he just take both?” Seemed a little tightfisted to only offer one. Draco scowled at her and couldn’t think of why this ever sounded like a plausible idea. “Unless he’d like a heart attack, he’ll get one.” Siobhan offered the two up, one yellow and sparkling the other a soft lilac. Harry didn’t say anything and Draco had a moment, where he thought maybe now, maybe now Potter was going to say this was in fact madness. Sheer madness, and how could Draco even think this would work. “What would make it easier on you guys?”No. No.No. Not happening, not in his house. None of that bullshit. “Are you kidding me? Have you even seen the-- you’re talking the pain potion, Potter.” A dragon parasite wasn’t a simple leech, purple and black and happy to fall away once full. “What does it look like, then?” Harry argued back and Draco wanted to abandon this. Was Potter really going to let Charlie release some unknown creature on him? Without seeing it? Without seeing the teeth? Oh, Merlin. How had Potter lived this long?“I’d agree with him, mate. The thing will be biting into--”“--The radial artery, as low down in your arm as we can manage it. I’ll be adding a tourniquet to make sure you don’t bleed out. You’ll have to be awake to take any Blood-Replenishing Potions, any other questions?”“How much is this going to hurt?” Harry wiped his hands on his robes and gave the basket another glance. Despite the two experts neither made a move to answer or fill Harry in. Too painful, Draco summarised. Damn all of this. Charlie received the full force of a Malfoy glare and for once, a Weasley looked away from under its weight. Him being guilty wouldn’t help Potter any.“Not gonna lie, Harry. These things, they burrow under scales - dragon scales. Their teeth alone can cut chunks out of people.” Charlie might have caught the panic that shot over Harry’s face, the exasperated huff from Siobhan and Draco wasn’t sure why - but he really needed to sit down. The pictures were more than enough for him, he didn’t need to think about it taking literal pieces out of people. “Not that, that will happen! I’m going to be holding onto it, it won’t do that. But it will want to latch on and it does that with its teeth.”“Okay.” Harry said, shoulders relaxing and Draco didn’t want to believe: this might be Charlie’s fault on Potter’s magic but this, this right here was Draco’s. He’d suggested, put this ridiculous idea into Potter’s head. “Okay, he says, right. I’ll leave you two to it.” Draco was no good to anyone here. He’d wait with Lotty, watch the tree die and hope the same fate didn’t come for Potter. How long would this take? How long did Charlie think the leech had before, as he claimed, ‘got too hungry.’“You’ll have to keep him still, Mr. Malfoy.”“This little guy isn’t going to like being near hexes and charms as it is. Best not rile him, yeah?” Charlie scooped up the basket and inside made a growl and scream before settling. Draco gulped, well. Okay. He just couldn’t do that. He didn’t want to see it.“I won’t run away or move, Charlie.” Harry interrupted the two unblinking stares from Charlie and Siobhan. “It’s fine.” A dismissal, that’s exactly what it was, as Harry looked away. Exactly what Draco wanted. And now, he wondered. Was he really this pathetic? He couldn’t handle teeth and blood despite Potter being the one the blighter was going to munch on? It burned. It was embarrassing. He stood by the wall and watched as Siobhan gestured Harry to sit back and she waved her wand and the table sided up to it. Charlie opened the basket then. A ball of teeth and sand scale skin. Charlie shifted it in his hands, grabbing its long tail and wrapping it around one arm - covered in specialised leather. Now, Draco was sure he didn’t show his disgust over the beast. The end, which held teeth a few inches long, like blades which bent in one swirling direction. Its back was hard, giving the ruse of a dragon scale. Draco looked to Harry. He didn’t even flinch.Merlin, did Potter ever--“I just have to make sure he doesn’t move his arm, right?” Draco relented and moved closer, peering over the chair. He wasn’t sure how either experts were going to stop those teeth going right through Harry’s arm. Trusting people was somewhat in short supply for him. Harry laid his arm on the table, pointing off to the side - Siobhan adjusted the table height until it was perfectly level. She waved her wand and a strip of magic circled around Harry’s elbow just behind it, the table stretched where he couldn’t move back or to the side. Now Harry’s arm was caged inside three walls of wood. One last tap against the table and a bolt, made of the same wood, wedged itself over the joint. His only movement was side to side, if he were to violently try to use his hand. “Now, this little guy only likes dragons. He’s not interested in us. We’ve not got such tasty magic.”“So, he might not bite.” Siobhan sounded a little too disappointed by that.“He’ll bite.” If the leeches’ reaction to being picked up was placid, then the nearer it came to Harry, the more it wriggled and snapped those teeth. Charlie didn’t hesitate but Draco was sure he did. All Harry did was keep looking at it. Urgh, stop looking at it. It only made it worse. Look away.“Right, Mr. Malfoy please hold here and here. Sir Harry Potter please take the pain relief now.” She smiled, but Draco found it fake and rehearsed. She might not have done this before, but Draco wondered if she was nervous too. Harry just numbly nodded, and drank it within half-a-dozen gulps. All the while, Draco was shown by Siobhan where to keep Harry’s arm down.It would seem, and Draco really was going to be violently sick or close to it - that it would be best down on the forearm of Harry’s non-wand hand. How caring. How Draco wanted to veto this idea. He kept repeating that this would be his fault if it went wrong. All he needed to do was hold down Harry’s wrist. Potter just had to stay still. “I’m going to test if the potion worked,” Siobhan said as she poked Harry with a pin, blood dripping over his arm. He didn’t so much a twitch and Draco wasn’t sure how that made this any easier for any of them. “Right. We all ready?” Charlie took such a loud audible breath, Draco hoped he’d say he was the one who couldn't do this. Draco didn’t even pretend he cared if Charlie or Siobhan was, he just stared at Harry, who nodded. Not talking, not talking, not talking. Potter really, really freaked him out when he wasn’t all -- Harry Potter. His eyes were glassy, not alert. It was weird. Siobhan stood at the ready at the end of the table where Harry’s hand lay palm-up, potion and wand and ready to act. Charlie was to the left and Draco the opposite side and eager to look anywhere other than that disgusting creature, he ended up looking at Harry’s arm. Right. Holding Harry’s arm down like this as a parasite to one of the most deadly creatures made its way closer. They were all ready. Right? He tightened his hold before the scale leech even came into contact. Oh, he wasn’t sure he could do this. Was Potter really going to die now? Luck running out in Malfoy Manor, that was tragic. “If you tell us to stop we will, Harry.” Charlie said what Draco dreaded. Could this be couldn’t as torture? It was, wasn’t it?“No.” Harry shook his head, but too exaggerated that Potter might be drunk. “Just get it done.”“We all heard that, didn’t we?” Siobhan said and with less personal investment, “We’ll all continue, no matter what. We all agree, don’t we?” No one agreed with their voices, Draco just nodded, the same dumb and out of it way Potter did. Okay. Okay. Harry’s head lulled to the side and Draco ignored the voice in his head that said this was wrong. The leech made a squeal as if a hurt pig had entered the room. But Draco saw the way it stilled as it hovered over Harry arm. Then it started to ungulate and the teeth started to click.And then Harry flinched - Draco forced his arm as still as possible - the teeth went in - Harry cried out to stop - he was trying to move, but couldn’t, drunk, yet not numb enough - and the teeth dug in like hoes in a field, twisted and raising flesh like it was nothing - Harry was telling them to stop. And Draco wanted to stop. But he didn’t. He held onto his wrist, stronger, since Harry was now desperate - the leech purred and the teeth were nothing on the sucker that latched on and - Draco looked away. He couldn’t see this, he couldn’t hear Harry sobbing in the chair. Harry was sobbing in the chair, his other arm limply trying to flail to stop but the potion made that impossible. And Draco could feel how warm Harry’s blood was. How his whole arm trembled and saw the way his fingers spasmed and tried to claw the air. His skin was slippery, and it was Siobhan that wiped away the blood with a grim face. Charlie wasn’t weeping but it was a near thing; these people were family, weren’t they?Draco could never do this. Never. And here he sat, hunched over, holding him still while that, that thing gulped down the magic. “Harry, you need to take this potion.” Siobhan had the worse job. Draco didn’t watch as Potter tried to refuse the potion in her hands, but she lacked any empathy over what was necessary and all but forced it down. He choked, panic maybe, pain overbearing, but some ran down his chin and throat and left him coughing. He didn’t want to see that. He shouldn’t have looked. He shouldn’t have. Draco knew he was no good. Knew he panicked easily. But maybe, maybe it was Voldemort and the War that shifted that little part of Draco’s brain to that point. A point where Draco had, had enough and started think, think, think. And then, Draco looked over at Harry to see if he had calmed down because he wasn’t fighting as much as he had. Draco stilled, his heart stopped and his lungs took no air and everything froze.No.That wasn’t right. This wasn’t right.Harry was crying. He’d seen Harry cry not two hours before. And now, he wasn’t even blinking away the tears, they were just running down his face. And it clicked and Draco eased off on Harry’s arm. She didn’t. But it fit. Why else Draco was having no issue with the flinching arm despite slippery with sweat and blood?“Siobhan.” Draco grit his own teeth, “What potion did you hand him?” She froze and Charlie looked as angry as Draco felt. “It’s easier this way,” she whispered and Draco made a point to leave this to Potter when he recovered. Because he might have her blood on his hands next. Unless Charlie got there first. “We’ll talk after Harry’s better. Sorry, Harry. I’m so sorry.” Charlie chanted and Draco went to turn Harry’s head, away from the violent and gruesome scene of the bloody leech and his mangled arm and close his eyes. Blink rate should go up under times of stress and pain. Now it explained why he hadn’t shut them. Charlie pulled it away only after Siobhan cut away a tiny part of flesh that was stuck in the leeches’ teeth.“We should continue, he said so.” Siobhan didn’t lift her head as Charlie wrangled the parasite into its makeshift home. Buckling it and swearing under his breath.“Unless you want to see the inside of my family Mausoleum, I suggest you stop talking Ms Goven. Heal him.” She didn’t move. “Now.” Whatever argument went on in her head, she relented and set about smoothing the mishmash of skin and muscle. Draco oversaw her every step. He wouldn’t call on her again. “He’ll be fine. I promise you.”“He better be. Where did you find her, Malfoy?” Charlie had the basket over his shoulder and now, it was his fault. Draco snarled back at the accusation, “Should I suspect every Healer to be incapable? Or is it just because I picked one?”“Similar likes like, Malfoy.” Not many of the Weasleys were as forgiving as the others.“Just get the damned monster back to wherever it belongs. And you,” he lost his patience then, watching her pause in her actions as if Potter wasn’t still bleeding, “If you kill him, it’s not just his blood that’ll be on my hands.”“He’s fine.” Siobhan was stitching and weaving skin together and Draco wanted everyone to leave, for this idea to never have entered his consciousness. He was close to ordering Charlie out but he hovered all the same. She had done her job. His arm wouldn’t scar, most likely. Hopefully. Draco did not want Potter to be reminded of this every time he looked down. It was Hermione all over again. “I have to get this back before anyone notices, Malfoy if I hear that Harry doesn’t--” Draco scoffed at it all, what could he possibly do, “I mean it. I’ll release a clutch of dragon eggs here and Malfoy’s are history. As they should be.”Draco didn’t rebel against that one. Charlie left, begrudgingly and hesitant but leave he did and Draco told her another, “I didn’t think a Healer would be the one to torture the Boy Wonder.” “I know you both, maybe the three of you think I was being cruel for cruelty sake.” Siobhan wiped her brow with the back of her hand. Her fingers were covered in blood too. “You need his magic - the dragon’s magic to be eaten, right? Having him feel nothing wouldn’t make the dragonblood rise. It would take longer if I numbed him, dangerously long. This was safer, I mean it. You can’t just constantly add Blood-Replenishing Potion upon Blood-Replenishing Potion. You know potions, you know that.”“You lied. You might as well be dead to me. Lotty!” The elf appeared, but her happiness was flattened as she saw Harry Potter on a chair, blood soaked over the table, carpet and himself. “Put him to bed and you--” He turned back to Siobhan, “I imagine Potter will want to talk with you when he’s up and about. Stay put, unless my earlier threats didn’t make it through that thick head of yours.”
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Siobhan marched behind him. She wouldn’t stop talking as Harry was taken to another guest room - a bedroom, where Lotty defended him with the threat of elf magic if Miss Goven tried anything else untoward. Draco was certain Lotty hadn’t a clue as to why he was furious with the Healer but reacted only out of loyalty.“Mr. Malfoy, you asked me to keep him alive,” Siobhan said as she moved towards the bed, to re-adjust the covers over Potter. Lotty, in petty defiance pulled the cover the opposite way. “He’s alive. The painless route would have killed him.” Draco didn’t appreciate her tone. For one, Harry was too pale, less sickly and more deathly. Maybe it was how Harry curled up, as if in pain even in sleep which made the bed look like a beast devouring him. A constant stream of sounds, half-gurgled words out lips that were as white as his face. “Then why give a choice and undermine it?” Draco asked from the door, he was too helpless here. Too much was going wrong. The wards were down, Draco was defenceless. Anyone who wanted to kill Harry Potter wouldn’t need much to do it. He did not think Siobhan meant Harry any harm, far from it. Her conduct was the issue. What would she do, if Harry did die? Who would want that news to also supply their name? She might confuse who was her employer. Send word to the papers that Harry died under Malfoy care, not hers.“You made a choice, Harry wanted the one that made things easier.” She cast the same medicinal spell, a wave of red raising and falling in the air. Draco shut the door behind him.. “Are you kidding me?” Draco knew his yelling might cause Lotty to throw Siobhan out. He didn’t care. He just couldn’t believe yet another one - someone who hadn’t even spoken to Potter thought that, this, this was brave. Or so ‘Harry Potter’. He pointed to the dying man, “Because he’s a self-sacrificing Gryffindor that has the self-preservation skills of a moth. Making things easier is just code for him to act like a bloody lunatic--”Siobhan started to sneer back, tight kept hair finally showing some fuzzy, stray strands, “--I think, you would want the pain relief and you can’t understand why anyone wouldn’t. I’m good at my job Mr. Malfoy. He wanted to make things easier, faster. It was you who wanted him to drink the pain relief.”No, no, no. Draco wasn’t having this. “If this wasn’t Harry Potter, would you have done this?”She turned away from him, touched at Harry’s forehead and Draco seethed at the show of affection over that scar. “But it is Harry Potter. He defeated Voldemort. He can manage this much.”Disgust twisted into a morose sympathy. Potter complained once, how he hated the attention his name brought. How he just wanted to be normal - fat chance of that happening - and Draco always assumed it a humblebrag of extremes. ‘I’m too well loved, too well known throughout the land! Isn’t it such a difficult life, to be fawned over?’ But as Siobhan fidgeted again, smoothing the lines on the covers Draco saw what she was too. A fan, someone who wouldn’t see Potter as the dying man in a bed, helpless, but as a hero who was suffering and would beat it. “How stable is he?”“The fever, I’ll watch for now. But he just needs rest, and food when he wakes,” she said and that’s when Draco had had enough, enough of this swanning around and acting like she knew all. Like she expected Harry to wake and thank her for the pain, for the lies. She was only here for necessity. Right now, she was cooing over Potter with an affection reserved for close friends, not a Healer and patient.Her presence was necessary. Draco wouldn’t chance it, not on Potter’s life. A reading chair sat by the wide fireplace - once connected to the Floo network but now lacked even a chimney to be used as anything but decoration, was where Draco sat. Then he saw the blood - Harry’s blood soaked his shaking hands. Slowly, he turned them over, examining how the creases in his hands were highlighted and the pits of his fingernails were clotted red. A lump from deep within his gut rose, slow and burning to the back of his throat and Draco stop breathing to stop the urge to vomit. Literally, Potter’s blood, on his hands. A dying Potter no more than a few meters ahead of him. Fuck.Closing his eyes, he refused to devolve into hysteria. His wand, once again, was unsettlingly heavy in his hands - he remembered he never received his old wand back and Draco had been grateful. A wand where he was using magic he never wanted to use: the wand might have chosen him long ago but Draco wanted nothing to do with it. Bleak and depressing, the blood seemed too dry and coagulated to form on the polished wand.“Tergeo,” he whispered and the blood vanished. His hands didn’t stop shaking and he clenched them tight. Nerves took over, a frantic mind trying to piece together what was the best, most efficient way to use his time. He must stay here, to keep an eye on Harry and Siobhan. If Moran saw this defenceless Manor, he’d attack in an instant, wouldn’t he? Draco bit his lip as hard as he ran through every which way he could even fathom what could and would happen. The Wizengot vote was a month away, not important. Siobhan could propel or plummet her own reputation by healing Harry and in doing so could do the same with the Malfoy name. Not an immediate issue so long as Harry lived. And if Harry lived… he would still require a sleeping aid. One which held nothing addictive or cumulative magic. Moran didn’t matter just yet, his attempt at Draco’s life was a curious case of planning but held no real ambition. Draco was at the Ministry every month like clockwork and nothing, no appearance. If Moran was not worried over killing in a public place, why not wait at the Floos or the lobby? Moran was not the problem right now. So, if he didn’t need to worry over Moran then the wards could wait too. What could he do?Books.He needed all the books on Sleeping Draughts, from Dreamless Sleep to Draught of Living Death. Calling on Lotty, she appeared on the second call, carrying another tray this time lacking in tea but holding clean linen, and Draco explained what he required. She would stay here, see to Siobhan and keep Harry Potter safe. She was not elated or apprehensive of this task but determined and cast a sour expression at the sight of Siobhan. Draco redirected his attention to the still murmuring Potter. No change. Rapid movement behind Harry’s eyelids told of dreams. Or nightmares. Or a best forgotten memory. Draco brought a stack of books into the room, not sure where to go even in his own home. Reading throughout the night was tough. What was worse was the occasional bough of Siobhan rushing around, while Harry made noises that did sound like a dying man. And Draco just sat there. Helpless and not daring to ask the question: what’s happening? So, he just watched, from the sidelines as Harry coughed and spluttered, veins popping out of his neck and temples. Only once did Draco try to read through one of these episodes. Only once did he grimace and flinch at the sounds that grated on his self-control. Don’t look. He didn’t need to look. Don’t look. Read. Maybe Potter was alive and just coughing louder to disrupt his reading.“How is he doing?” Draco asked at two in the morning, aching shoulders and neck from hunching over book and tome. Siobhan didn’t answer and Draco refused to look up to acknowledge his own concern. It was a passing comment, nothing more.“He’s okay, so far.”“And his magic?” Draco skipped forward a chapter, he hated these old books. Too many ramblings from a wizard that wanted to talk herbology than potion characteristics. “He’ll be first to know that one.”What should he say to that? What would happen to a squib Harry Potter? Was he to blame for this? This should never have happened, Draco shouldn’t have allowed this. Harry would be so pissed, maybe it would be best for him to lack the same magical prowess. The early morning turned into a late lunch and then, the night came again. And as Draco fretted over ingredients of a soon to be potion, Siobhan stretched and yawned. “You must be tired, Mr. Malfoy. Your friend will be fine, I won’t leave my station until he is out of the woods, so to speak.”“We are not friends,” Draco said it on auto-pilot because for a while, that’s all he said, all Harry said if either of them were seen having a civil conversation and someone pointed it out. No one could befriend Harry Potter after the War. No one. Not even the overt and fresh faces of the Aurors. Draco was not one who misjudged civility with friendship. “You hire a private Healer and help break International Mythical Creature laws for fun?”“Let’s go with that, it’s more interesting than the truth.” The truth being Draco owed his freedom to someone he’d resented for years. Jealous of everything and spiteful of even more: Harry’s friends were equals, not bumbling lackeys, he received admiration as soon as he entered rooms, he was given special treatment because of who he was, not who his parents were. Draco had a name but it was never uttered in the same way, and would never be, ever. His life would’ve ended in those stocks, under the gaze of a war-torn and anxious ministry. Whatever reason - Draco was only certain he could never understand why Harry did it - he was mad - Draco and Harry didn’t see each other for many years later. Not all coincidental, Draco was good at avoiding people. Harry was clearly wanting to leave the past in the past and Draco left him be, not wishing to make Potter regret the mercy he’d shown. “Then may I suggest leaving the chair, Mr. Malfoy. It won’t be doing you any favours.”Draco didn’t reply. He wasn’t sure what he would call Harry Potter. He suspected Draco too quick of malice for the term friend to mean anything. That always brought the same question back: was Draco really just a bad guy? What if he was pretending at being this, this helpful Malfoy? Leaning back in the chair, Draco sighed loud and hard. How did anyone really know if they were a good person? Harry admitted to wanting to hurt him. Did that make him less good? What if Draco admitted to enjoying wrangling and pushing people to do his bidding when he won over them with blackmail and information not yet public. Draco Malfoy wasn’t a nice person but was he a good one? No. He was neither. And Harry was both. At some point, Draco slept, for how long he wasn’t sure. When he awoke, it was with a jolt - the book he last read lay haphazardly on the ground. Harry grumbled under his breath. His face was flushed now, and if Draco had not ordered Lotty to stay beside Siobhan, both now absent from the room, he would have thought Lotty had failed to wring the damp cloth and soaked the pillow. “Siobhan, get your arse back here!” Whether it was Lotty or Siobhan who heard him first, they both apparated into the bedroom and got to work and Draco couldn’t handle this. Not when Harry started to vomit. Watching Potter die? Not a bloody chance.Draco fled to his laboratory and set up eight cauldrons. Nothing interrupted him, not even Lotty and her usual questions of tea or a light meal. No news was best, Draco set aside several figs of lavender before opting to chop them in different ways. He may as well try a little of everything. Ignore the idea Potter would die. Ignore the possibility he was a squib because that still left him needing a potion.Not as if Harry would accept a potion made by the man that nearly killed him. But that was the beauty of it: a recipe, that’s all Draco needed. Hand it over to some other brewer, another apothecary who would make sure Harry Potter was well while lining their own pockets. Eight cauldrons, all fourteen inches in diameter were set up an hour apart in prep time letting Draco have time to dally in the next one’s composition. There were cauldrons on the floor, up on the transfigured tables, next to his feet boiling away. The first was a repeat of the previous failed potion. Another was near identical but the paste was more watery and the lavender upped in dose. From there, the ingredients changed. Not trusting his tired brain, a weakness which would catch, Draco wrote down the recipes as he went. Eight cauldrons, eight recipes and even with this, Draco found his mind wandering. For some of them, Draco’s hands shook and he was forced to stop and stare at them. He could still feel the blood, the warmth.Sleeping wasn’t allowed until Siobhan had a positive thing to say about Potter’s prognosis. Not as if Draco didn’t think of resting but the nap was enough to push through this brain fog. How long did Draco strain the bluster eel’s guts or how long did he spend on finely cutting ingredients the same size, weight and shape. Too long, said his neck and shoulders, his back and wrists. Not long enough, said himself. Potter might very well be fighting for his life, his magic. A few nights of no rest paled in comparison. “You better not die.” Draco doodled on the corner of number seven’s recipe. “Luna will kill me.” The doodle was given a violent scrub through before Draco set about the batch of potions. Each were boiling, some the same purple tint others turning more grey and number three was bright pink. Smelling the air stung his lungs, his eyes were as if mint was sprayed into them and it had nothing to do with Lotty reappearing, her simple blouse was damp around her shoulder, blood splattered near her face and Draco didn’t let her speak. “Unless there’s something I can do to help, or Potter’s okay, don’t tell me.” Lotty wrung her hands together and left without another word. Number Four and Number Five boiled and turned a murky grey, only to pop and spark before Draco killed the flame and the failure had him kick them away, “Fuck!” And he lost the enthusiasm, the very hope Harry was alive, and he crouched on the floor, next to Number Seven and he admitted it. This was too much. This was scary, this wasn’t fair, this wasn’t anything Draco prepared for - Harry dying because of his advice? Harry was going to die and it was all his fault. How was he going to explain that to Scorpius and Albus? Luna? Hermione? Anyone?“Fuck,” Draco said as he saw his weary reflection in the still water of Number Eight. He’d ruined his own life and taken Harry’s all in one fell swoop. What was the point in making potions for a dead man? Nothing anyone said would make this okay. A pop was heard behind him and he tensed, as Pansy used to call it, put up the walls. By the time Voldemort was in his house, Draco understood what she meant. He saw it, on his own face with an overlay of gaudy yellow as he bottled it all up and turned to address -- Lotty. He wasn’t sure how long this peace, these high defences and mazes of the mind would hold. “Mr. Harry Potter needs Master Draco Malfoy’s help.”He put all the potions on stasis, not eager to return to any of them. Harry was awake, glasses off, and redder than a Weasley. “An infection, the fever could kill him. I need you to--” Siobhan wobbled on her feet, only to hold onto one of the bed posts to keep herself standing, “--he needs more magic to heal. I can’t do any more.” She was breathless, tired and fighting to stay conscious, “I’m sorry, but it’s like trying to fill a well. I’ve never felt anything like it.”“That sounds about right.” If the situation not so dire his collected response would’ve made him preen in superiority. Right now, he nodded and stepped over to Harry. Harry who fought to keep his eyes open every second. Four casting trees worth of magic Harry might have lost. A tragedy indeed if true. As Draco tried to keep the magic over the palm of his hand - to focus on one point and only one was harder than it sounded - he refused to touch Harry’s arm but hovered over it. Speaking of which wasn’t scarred from the scale leech. An insignificant mercy.Draco’s magic was pulled, hard and sudden as if he was being forcibly apparated. The urge to push and pull away never rescinded no matter how much or how long magic was fed. What was clear, even to Siobhan, Draco’s magic wouldn’t satisfy. Only two people Draco could count on not to use this against him or Potter. Begrudging he pulled his hand away, knowing his magic was like Siobhan’s, already too frayed and used throughout to help. Between Lotty, Siobhan and Draco, Harry Potter would die. They needed more help.“Lotty, bring the Minster and her husband here. Tell them Harry needs their help. Urgently.” Draco spoke again once Lotty left and Siobhan collapsed into the reading chair, “Only tell them what they need to know. Complicating matters doesn’t help any of us.”Five minutes - the longest, slowest five minutes to ever exist in time and space. Five minutes of hearing the wheezing laboured breaths and Harry failing to keep his eyes open for longer than a few seconds each time. “Harry!” Weasley stood by the door as Hermione rushed in and Draco ignored Ron’s reluctance on stepping nearer. He hadn’t seen Ron and Harry much in the same room, not since Ron dragged off Moran from the Emporium. Whatever drama held could wait until Harry was able to breathe without sounding as if it would be his last. “Bloody hell.” Magically drained, Draco lent against the wall and Siobhan took charge. Explaining and avoiding all at the same time, Hermione was the first - with no hesitation - to clasp her hands around Harry’s wrist and Draco winced. That was torn up and spat back out by the bloody monster. Now, in his own house he was intruding, as Hermione tried her best to speak in a wholly positive and uplifting manner. Harry squinted as Weasley went to stand by his wife, “Ron?” Truly was it so strange to see Ron, friends since first year, appear at his bedside? Charlie had dropped his day and came over at the mere suggestion he could help Harry. Now, Ron was being asked out right and he still hadn’t started siphoning off his magic. “Hey,” Ron said, awkwardly standing a few paces away from the bed. “Get some rest, yeah? We’ll sort you out -- be good as new.”“Ronald, now isn’t the time,” Hermione snapped and grabbed Ron’s hand and clasped it between hers and Harry’s. Draco left, not wishing to see anyone else as uncomfortable over the mess he made. Draco went to his own bedroom, collapsed onto the bed backwards, feet still on the ground, and stared up at the ceiling. A strange thought crossed his mind: Harry Potter might be dead when he wakes. Sleep didn’t come for him but the still darkness in the room was a small relief. Scorpius would hate him. Absolutely hate him if Harry died. Because Albus would. Harry needed more magic to fight off whatever the leech had left inside. Draco only knew of one place that could potentially have enough magic if Hermione and Ron failed. Casting Trees said four and it was impossible to hand over more than half a person's magic without force being a factor. A large dose of magic is what Harry needed and the irony wasn’t lot on him. But as Draco’s eyes closed it came to him, he shot up, heart beating fast. He knew what might help.First, he checked the All-Mother. The only evidence it was there was the leaves that littered the floor and the gaping hole in the roof. She was dead. Good enough. Marching back, renewed at the idea, Draco saw Siobhan was standing outside the room. It was only when he approached did he hear Hermione’s and Ron’s raised voices. “I need some of Harry’s blood,” he whispered to Siobhan. “I’ll add him as the Manor’s ward.”Old wizarding houses protected not just the furniture but those inside it. It was also true of the opposite, that if a house loathed a person then sickness and disease would linger in the house for them especially. She nodded, went inside and the voices quietened. Potter no longer stank of dragonblood and the Manor shouldn’t hate him or see him as a threat. Draco would order the bloody house to help if he so had to.Siobhan returned with a floating blob of blood, “I hope this works. His fever broke but I can’t say we have enough magic between us to stop him from having another spike.” Draco left, to the keystone where the wards originated from and he loathed the idea his parents would find this. Albus was allowed through, Scorpius was always happy at that - and the Manor cooed over the praise at doing well. Harry Potter being allowed to apparate inside wasn’t the same as being added to as a ward - as someone to protect. A technicality, for some, but then Harry to the Manor put him squarely ahead of others. If Potter wanted to evict Blaise or Pansy from the house, it would listen. Not so great a plan considering Draco’s secrets but Harry could be removed at a time he wasn’t dying. Harry had once said he’d help restore them - a deal proposed by Draco for numerous reasons. Now, they’d return - weaker than what they were, but with a task more important. “Malfoy Manor, a new name for you.” The levitated blood ran into the wall, where a series of thick notches ran in numerous directions. It glowed teal and as soon as the blood hit, it vanished and blinked white. The wards returned and magic from centuries returned and Draco was on his knees at the pressure in his head. The windows opened - from what seemed like every room - and a gust of wind blew a storm of crinkling leaves across before dying out as one rested on Draco’s arm.“What am I supposed to do with this? Just help Potter not die.”All the windows slammed shut.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Draco couldn’t quite understand what the Manor’s response to his order meant. The leaves from the All-Mother were different in all aspects. The one which sat on his sleeve was translucent, purple veins giving the only clue to the size. At his feet another, a simple black spine but dulled at the edges, and layered onto it a leaf which was purple on one side and grey on the other. With the tree gone, it was likely these would fade and shrivel soon too.What bloody one did it think would help? Draco didn’t know but Siobhan might. He picked up one each of the three types and rushed back to her. As Draco approached, he eyed the door and why Siobhan was still standing outside. She smiled.“If they have energy to yell, they’ve magic to give,” Siobhan explained with a shrug. “Can you do anything with these?” Draco shoving the three leaves into her hands. Siobhan just scrunched up her nose at them as if they were what Draco feared. Useless. “They’re from an All-Mother; can you do anything?” He urged her again and as she picked each up to examine she shook her head.“Maybe but just one won’t do anything.” Siobhan rotated the spine. “This can be used as a substitute for needle soup. The other two do have the properties for a salve.” She shook her head again and sighed, “I’m sorry, we’d need more than this.”“Lotty!” Draco yelled and out popped the elf’s head from under the door handle, “Go collect all of these. Take the needles to the kitchen. Make soup. The rest - bring to us.” Lotty heard his urgency and left with a pop. “You have access to an All-Mother?” Siobhan’s scepticism was refreshing, if only it meant she really hadn’t seen the giant hole in the Manor. “We’ll need everyone to cooperate… do you have five mortars and pestles? And pure distilled water. We can make a salve from the paste.”So, that’s what Draco did. He spent the rest of the night listening to the Healer and doing what she thought best. Lotty did not hide her disgust over Siobhan’s presence but she did as she was asked. Ron and Hermione agreed, and they sat in transfigured chairs using a transfigured table and turned leaves to mush all while Siobhan took the end result and fiddled with water and sand and made a clear slime which bubbled from inside.The Manor bothered him, a pressure at the back of his head that gave him a slew of new worries: where was Scorpius, was he okay? Ignoring those thoughts, not entirely his - prompted by the Manor’s need to keep all of its residents safe and happy. “How much do you know about what’s wrong with Harry?” Draco asked both Hermione and Ron as he put another dying leaf into his mortar. Ron snorted and Hermione elbowed him in the side. “We know he doesn’t mean to hurt anyone,” Hermione said, reinforcing the word ‘we’ all while Ron kept silent. Draco didn’t need to guess on who Harry might have hurt to turn Ron against Harry even the slightest. Wait. What if-- no, Draco had to ask carefully, give the impression he already knew. Taking a breath he decided the weakest one right now was Hermione. She was still eager to prove Harry was still Harry, unable to hurt anyone.“Lily was there too, then.” Draco watched both of their faces carefully. Ron’s pestle crashed into the mortar as he got up and left. “Ron, Ron - stop. We need to keep--” Hermione reached out to try and grab at his arm, but he squatted it away before Hermione had any real grip.“Bathroom break,” came Ron’s reply from somewhere outside the room. Hermione was near tears and Draco let her be for a moment to compose herself. She spoke up after a minute of sniffing and beating the leaves into a fine paste. “He told you what happened?”Draco glanced over to Siobhan, then to the unconscious Harry. He could lie. It wouldn’t be found out until much later. This might backfire. A good liar wasn’t one who lied always or one who told tall tales in the illusion of covering up more. A good liar told the truth just as much. Reasoning Hermione would shut herself off and give Draco nothing at the hint of a lie was more than enough reason to stay truthful. “No. I figured something was off when Lily avoided Harry when I brought him back home. Well, home to Ginny. I suspect he lives in that hovel.” Ron leaving did provide him with the ability to now talk somewhat openly with Hermione.
If Harry's magic had hurt Lily and Rose... Draco could see himself wanting to pull Scorpius away from meeting with Potter. Not out of pettiness or cruelty but Scorpius was all Draco had. Draco couldn't take the chance Harry had another episode and accidentally hurt him.How much did they know, did they know about Charlie? About the dragonblood potions? “Do you know what’s wrong with him?” Right. She wouldn’t. Harry already said he hadn’t told her. But telling Hermione one thing and her already knowing already was a different matter. Draco waited a beat before adding, “I don’t mean the infection he has now. I mean, why his magic was on the bend in the first place.” She shook her head and Draco went back to his own clear goop sitting in his mortar. Ron and Hermione didn’t know. Ron and Hermione didn’t know. What alternate dimension was he in that Draco Malfoy know more of Harry’s business than the other parts of the Golden Trio. Bloody Potter what was he thinking? Hermione stared at him and Draco paused in his task to meet her eye.“But you know, don’t you?”A peculiar feeling bubbled at his chest and Draco pushed it away. Now wasn’t the time to gloat.“I do.”She didn’t ask anything else. Ron took his sweet time returning. Draco did have to wonder how the Weasley family operated. Did Charlie not talk to Ron as often as Ginny? Was that how siblings worked? As an only child, Draco had nothing to compare the way the Weasleys acted. A folded piece of parchment made its way onto the table and Draco recognised it. Checking Siobhan hadn’t turned around yet, Draco slipped the registry form into his nearest robe pocket. They mashed leaf after leaf, for hours in silence. Until Draco tutted loud enough for both Hermione and Siobhan to question him on it.“If this actually helps him I’ll never hear the end of it.” Draco sighed and hated the fact Harry did have this idea before - and Draco had shot him down citing it as stupid.“Since when are you two so pally?” Ron spoke up and Hermione scowled but said nothing in his defence. He was pissed, trying to keep his cool in a way unlike a Weasley. Draco wondered if Ron had already decided not only in his involvement but on his guilt too. “Harry appeared in my house, destroyed the roof and sitting room and now is dying in a guestroom. At which point do you think I should consider being on friendly terms?”“He came to you for help and now we’re here.” If Draco was a paranoid person he might think there was a real shitty insinuation made about him somewhere in that snapping reply. “I’m not saying a word. Unless Harry dies or recovers and says otherwise.” Draco ignored the glare - from Hermione, even suggesting Harry wouldn’t make it marred all of her warmth towards him. The rest of the night was awkward. Ron left earlier than Hermione and it was Siobhan who told them there would be enough paste to make a salve out of the work done. He suspected, at how she worded that - it was simply to push Hermione to go home and rest. Another wave of tiredness and Manor interference made Draco flinch. Being the Lord of the House made it difficult to just relax. Not with a constant niggle everything was wrong and what was he doing to fix it? The next day, Draco was taught little but enough on how to soak bandages in a distilled mixture of water and and the gloop so it would evenly distribute along the fabric. “Dressings tend to absorb any moisture, this should hold the salve close enough for him to absorb the magic within them without us needing to change the sheets after every application.” It smelt terribly bitter, burnt and Draco was glad it wasn’t going on his arms. She wrapped one on each arm, thick and winding and Draco listened to her as she walked through the steps. If all went well, he’d use them up as fast as possible. “Remove them when they dry, they’re done at that point, and get another. The mixture won't last too long itself, so we need to keep it hydrated and used as soon as possible.” Draco retired to the reading chair and Siobhan bid him goodnight while Lotty kept an eye on the Manor and Harry as they both rested. Not that Draco got much sleep, dozing off only to jerk awake, panicked he’d missed some vital sign of Harry struggling and dying. The bandages on his arms cracked like dried mud and turned ashen and Draco didn’t want to remove them. He had to, and he did so quickly wanting this nightmare to be over. What was stopping him from just taking Harry to the hospital and leaving the idiot to be cared for by professionals. This wasn’t his job. And Potter had asked for his help anyway. Lunch was a meal Draco devoured. Hermione had arrived again, chatting animatedly with Siobhan and Draco ducked out of that conversation. When he returned to Harry, he was grumbling in his sleep. Only as Draco shut the door, Harry blinked awake. “Where’s--” Harry croaked, voice nearly gone. Launching into who was where and why, Draco was glad to see even if Potter did look like utter crap, he was awake. Shaking his head, Harry huffed to turn onto his side, felt around the table which was raised just a little too high for where he lay to really see what was on it. “My glasses.”Oh.Busying himself, Draco ignored the self-conscious flutter over his answer as he cleared the table. A clatter made him look up, Harry’s specs sat on the floor with Harry still searching blind. Any other wizard would have sought their wands first, or knowing they could cast wandless just summoned the blasted things. Was his magic okay or not? Draco sat the stack of used mortars down, went over and handed him his glasses. It was only now, he saw Harry and his bloodshot eyes. Harry squinted and sank back into the bed. For a moment, Harry closed his eyes again and Draco though he might fall asleep before he asked, “How long?” His throat sounded shredded, and Draco had the urge to clear his own throat.“This is your third day here.” Draco didn’t want to touch the subject Harry might have lost his magic, completely, forever. “I’ll fetch Goven, since you’re up. Lotty will fix you breakfast.”“I’ll come down in a while.” Draco scoffed at the bravado, as if Harry could walk right now. The idea Potter was trying to fake it right now only said Draco wasn’t trusted. “Unless you want Lotty to burst into tears, you’ll have it served in bed, you pillock.” Harry erupted into a wheezing cough before Draco could say anything else. This wasn’t right, this wasn’t right at all. Draco rubbed at his eyes and wished he could leave the house and deny any existence of what was going on here. “This was the worst idea ever.”“I’m fine.” Harry sounded far from it and Draco wasn’t equipped with much bedside manner. Not with the Manor babying him - a series of images of warm beds flickered in his head. No. Not yet. “Lotty! Potter’s awake!” He wasn’t dealing with Harry if he was still near death. Meanwhile Harry surveyed the room and, either he realised he was in a completely different room or he was more curious on the table of bitter smelling spills.“What’s this?” Harry prodded his arm, and the wraps were moist and yellowing at the edges - soaked in a concoction of All-Mother leaves. Even if Harry was ill, Draco was sure he’d have picked at the bandage just to be awkward. The wrap began to loosen and Draco lost his temper. “Don’t pick at it.” They were all trying here, Harry didn’t need to examine every little thing. Draco tugged the material back over tight and then he remembered how Harry’s blood, warm blood, was against his hands and the coating was too close and Draco made a noise and flinched at the clarity of that one thought.A subtle action it was not, not with how Draco pulled his hands back and didn’t dare look at the arm he’d forced down and let a creature eat. Harry started and Draco wanted to apparate right there, “You--” And he was interrupted as Lotty appeared, carrying a bowl of soup. It didn’t look appetising with its purple and grey colouring. “Enough. Just take your soup.” Draco retreated back to the dresser. Harry thanked Lotty, who was starstruck at the compliment of her cooking. Harry took a few mouthfuls - and Draco was glad he hadn’t exploded, turned blue or dropped dead right there.“Could we not tell Hermione and Ron everything else? I don’t need the extra pity.” Still looking at the soup, he gave it a few more stirs. Good. He wasn’t going to bring - that - up. “Your life is hardly pitied, envied by some I’d imagine.”“I slept in a cupboard under the stairs for years before I went to Hogwarts,” Harry said and waited on an answer. Draco shifted uncomfortably at that. To have a response, Draco needed to know what Harry was even talking about. The words on their own made sense but together Draco did not understand. Muggles might have bedroom under the stairs. But a bedroom under a staircase? How grand a staircase must be to fit a whole bedroom beneath it. Was it smaller than normal - than these rooms, in Draco’ home - was that what was pitiable about it? But Harry had said cupboard, not bedroom. But where else would someone sleep? Hermione once said her own home was barely large enough to swing a cat in - a turn of phrase that had Draco concerned. This was yet another glimpse into Muggle life.“Is that another Muggle euphemism?” Harry erupted into laughter, his coughing proclaiming how unwell he still was, and Draco waited for this one to be explained. Even by this reaction Draco was unsure. Was this a joke?“Its meaning is literal. Very, very literal.” Harry was smiling, which was the oddest thing about it. As Harry wiped at the corner of his eyes as he continued, sporadically to chuckle. All while Draco blinked once then twice and - he didn’t think he was understanding this right. Harry slept in a cupboard under the stairs. The more Draco tried to piece this together the more he rebelled against the very idea. Harry Potter. Slept in a cupboard? What?“I always thought we had similar upbringings.”An only child, easily bored and wanting friends. The house elves were the help - they were not good enough to spend time on - Goyle and Crabbe were family connections, not equal either. No one was ever equal because Malfoy touted they were the best. Only one person ever received any praise from his father: Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Draco had never considered Harry would ever refuse his friendship, never mind take Weasley over him. It was wrong. Back then, Harry was the worst, an equal that refuted everything his father ever said to be true.“What’d you mean?” If Harry hadn’t killed the good humour on his face, maybe Draco would have explained how he was terribly bored and lonely as a child. But it was the bite in those words that made Draco realise he’d assumed again, incorrect and no way to take it back. Draco was never unhappy, or wanted for anything else. He pointed and it was his, he broke it and it was replaced without a word. Harry was kept under the stairs like an unused mop.They weren’t similar at all.“Forget it.”“Tell me.”“I was wrong. There, happy?” Draco snapped. Harry wasn’t but he returned to eating the soup Lotty had served. Etiquette was not Harry’s strong suit and he scraped and hit the bowl with his spoon too often, too loudly and Draco wished he’d kept the conversation going. “Before Hogwarts, what’s the worst thing that ever happened to you?” The nonchalant tone grated. “We can do without the pity party.” Draco didn’t want to dig up old wounds. Not now, not with Hermione desperate to get in here and see if Harry was breathing. “So you are pitying me.” As if a reward for sussing that out, Harry took another mouthful and Draco urge to leave dwindled. He regarded Harry again not sure how to respond. Harry wasn’t entirely self-absorbed or naive to the world. He was able to, in some way push conversation to where he wanted them to go. Aurors must have some form of interviewing or interrogation lessons. “I was seven, maybe six.” That was easy enough. No harm came from those facts. No information, none that mattered. Harry didn’t take even half a second to answer.“Nine.” Another spoonful and then Harry’s bloodshot eyes were back on him, “So, what happened?”“I got sick.”Harry’s curiosity died then - Draco saw it, how his eyes just glazed over. Like it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “You got sick.” The disregard over one of his least enjoyable moments wasn’t appreciated. “I’ve only thought I’m going to die twice in my life, Potter and this was one of them. It’s called a Smothering Cold for a reason.”“Oh.” Harry seemed to notice what he’d done. Or implied, or what Draco had inferred from him. Again, Draco assumed the Manor would force Harry asleep - another attack of beds and thoughts of rest invaded his head and Draco pushed it away. The scraping of spoon against bowl was too much and Harry started again. “Well it was Dudley’s birthday and he had all of his friends over. I was told if I was good, I might get some cake I’d never had any so I was pretty excited.”Draco noticed how Harry stopped himself from rambling. Now, it was his turn and Draco wasn’t sure what facts he could hand over without some knowledge of one of the worst times of his life revealing itself. “I was alone. My mother and father left to some party, somewhere.”It was a vineyard somewhere but Draco couldn’t think of which of the pureblood families purchased one. He hadn’t cared much for the reason why they left back then just that they had. “They left you?” Draco didn’t like the - the accusation in those words. Harry just didn’t understand. “It’s customary to go to a new opening of a friends business or venture - something about having many magical cores in the one place bringing luck.” Not that Draco ever believed it, never not even as a child. It was too easy even as a child who played as many games under the sun, luck was never easy. Luck should never be counted on: any business that tried that might as well melt their galleons and drink it. “I got locked in the cupboard and ignored after I cleaned the place.” Harry shrugged, as if this wasn’t the most alarming thing in his memory. “I sorta knew Petunia was lying but I always thought, maybe this time she means it. Maybe this’ll be the exception.” Draco did have experience with that strange, daydream-like thought. To deny reality and the people in it made for an odd experience. For one, it made Draco look and feel foolish. He did not know the people Harry spoke about and for once he was glad. This was the perfect time to stop. Go find Hermione and usher her into the room as a distraction. But-- it... Draco needed clarity.“You said your worst memory wasn’t the cupboard.”“I didn’t mind that, really. What I hated was I could hear it: the party. Everyone laughing, enjoying themselves. How long were you ill?”“A fortnight but I--” Draco stopped. His illness was only a week long disaster, the extra week was him being kept out of sight - and the lie that his parents had told, made him tell, was still parroted back even now. A visceral disgust cramped at his gut and made Draco clam up - he couldn’t say anything more - nothing ever, nothing ever was said against parents. Not his mother who lied to Voldemort and nothing against his father who placed himself on a pedestal. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. What’s past is past.” And nothing would soothe his raw nerves or shield him from how exposed that realisation made him. He’d lie forever. Because if he didn’t then that only meant that his parents were--He loved them. That’s all he had to acknowledge. That’s all anyone had to know. Harry didn’t make it easier on him - did he ever? - and Draco debated on whether he could dismiss himself without making it obvious as to why. Finally, Harry broke off his stare and looked towards the door. “Is the tree still here?”“You’re eating it. Part of it.” Draco was glad at the change in topic and went with it. Not like informing Harry he was correct was fun but it was better than the alternative. Harry’s smile crawled back onto his face and Draco wanted to flee then Of course Harry Potter was a smug bastard. He was never going to hear the end of this. “So I was right?” His smile grew and his back straightened. “About the tree helping?”“On a technicality,” Draco bickered back, “just say it.”“Say what?” Of course Potter was going to milk this for all its worth. Of bloody course. Draco tried to glare, change the mood back to something more tentative but nope - Harry just sat there, finished bowl of soup in his lap looking like he’d eaten ambrosia. “Some variation of I told you so, hurry it up. I don’t think I could deal with you acting like this all day.”“Acting like what?” What a facetious prick, fine. “Like someone needs to remind you that you’re the idiot who was drinking dragonblood.” It had the opposite effect as Harry laughed again. Thankfully Hermione appeared alongside Goven and Draco didn’t have the opportunity to murder the man. “Harry, you seem in good spirits.” She returned a polite smile to Draco then while Siobhan gave a quick check on his temperature - down, much better she said - and Hermione was taking a great interest in what she was doing. But as Goven excused herself, it was Draco who Hermione addressed first. “Could you give us a minute, Draco.” Fine. Pushing off leaning against the dresser, Draco was about to agree, give Harry some time to spend with an actual friend. Maybe some air from that big head might pop out with a few choice words from the reigning Minister.“Actually, he should stay since-- the Healer--” He was lying, clearly but Draco hadn’t a clue as to why. His bumbling mess was a curious thing, if only Draco had more time to pick all his hand waving, eye-darting mannerisms. First things first, to save this flash fire of a lie. “Goven said I should stay put earlier,” Draco interrupted Potter’s atrocious attempt at keeping him in the room, “I’ve seen the side effects already so I know what to look for. But I can leave if it’s urgent.”Hermione would never consider anything urgent enough to bring to someone’s sickbed. “No, it can wait.” Draco stood nearer the door. Hermione ignored him and sat at the bottom of the bed. “I’m just relieved to see you’re okay. You had me and Ron worried!” Harry shifted around, rotated the empty bowl in his lap. “Sorry.”“Don’t be silly. How are you feeling? You had such a high fever for a while.”“I did?” Harry glanced over to him and Draco nodded. An odd thing that Draco was the one bolstering facts when they came from Hermione’s mouth. Why the distrust? “Honestly, I don’t feel that great. I kinda want to go to sleep again. I know you and Ron--”Draco was worried then. The Manor was constant in its effort and Draco knew if Harry was as tired as he claimed then it wasn’t a fatigue he could fight for long. Hermione just patted the cover over his legs and she stood up, “I’m just happy to see you’re okay. Another time. When you’re feeling more up to it.” “Sure. Thanks,” Harry said as she reached over for a hug. One that Draco looked away from, unable to remove the idea he was intruding upon their friendship again. Hermione and Ron should be the ones helping. Why Ron wasn't helping Harry even when he knew how dangerous his magic had really become spoke louder than anything.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
If Harry was a better liar, he would have told Draco to leave too, for he was going to sleep again. What he didn’t do was either of those things. Instead he tried leaving the bed, a notion that made Draco want to weep in frustration.“So help me, if you try once more, I will apparate you to St. Mungos and leave them to deal with you.” All Harry did was choose not to listen - not even a little bit - and started to put weight onto his feet and he curled his hands in the sheets as if they had the strength to stop him being acquainted with the floor on a more personal level. His attitude to being ill made Harry the worst kind of sick. ‘‘I'm fine,’ he would say, dying. How Ginny hadn’t throttled him to an early grave was beyond comprehension. What did he think he was doing? No one needed Harry Potter to go into work like a flailing fish. “No you won’t. You couldn’t afford the publicity that would bring you.” Draco did not appreciate the world savvy Harry Potter. Manipulating him might be more difficult than Draco first thought. So Draco stopped talking. Let Harry think he’d won this round.Harry eyed him, suspicious at the lack of nagging. Or more directly, any help in his mission to leave. As Draco waited for the inevitable, he crossed his arms and tried giving Potter the most unimpressed expression he could muster. Harry had almost died, in what world did he just get to walk freely after?Only the thump as Harry fell to the floor, a groan from hitting his nose - glasses squashed against his brow - and Draco laughed. In relief, honestly, and in no way sadistic despite Harry’s attempt to glare back at him. Harry flailed a little, rolling onto his side and Draco rolled his eyes. He should call Siobhan, let her deal with this. “Are you quite finished?” He watched as Harry tried his best to push himself up with his arms, grabbing out to the bedside table. That didn’t help any as they trembled as if never used and he didn’t move anywhere. It was another five minutes before Harry slumped in defeat of his own body. The sagging of his shoulders came first and then a sigh which was too close to a huff to dismiss as whimsical. “Yes,” Harry said, staring at the ceiling and choosing to not acknowledge Draco. “Are you sure?” Draco needled, “I’d hate for you to try this again. Please, do carry on, get it out of your system.” Not that seeing an ill person, once strong enough to destroy the Manor, now pitifully squirming on the floor was an enjoyable spectacle. Harry was not one to follow boundaries and the sooner he learned to take everything slowly, the better for everyone. The easier Draco could sleep and not worry about the fool leaving, thinking he knew best and doing more damage to himself in the long run. “You can be such a--”“Nothing I haven’t heard before, I’m sure,” Draco dismissed the bickering. He didn’t dare go near Potter, instead levitated him onto the bed. Harry didn’t argue. He wasn’t pleased but he didn’t argue. “Now, I’d like to confirm something, your magic. Did it hurt Lily or Rose? Or both?”Harry stilled, stopped trying to pull the covers over him again. “Did Scorpius tell you?”Don’t tell, don’t say--Draco’s gut twisted. “Scorpius was there too?” Draco’s jaw set in place and now, he wished Potter was still on the floor.“Yeah,” Harry had sat back against the headboard and said, “It was like what I did before. Though it wasn’t that big,” he started to talk animatedly with his hands and it didn’t matter. Draco wasn’t listening at that point. Scorpius had been in danger and he hadn’t even known about it. Danger like the damage to the sitting room and those adjacent. He hadn’t seen it from behind glass or read it in a book: he’d been in the same position, a vortex of magic out of control.“Scorpius promised he would tell you.” Draco sat down slow, processing. What did that mean? Was he now no longer trustworthy in his son’s eyes? His teeth started to hurt his bottom lip and it didn’t calm his whirling thoughts. When was this? Had Scorpius acted off at any time?“I thought it was weird you were helping me. Even Ron was furious-- I get it-- I’ll get Siobhan to take me to St. Mungos--”“Shut up.”Harry stopped, sat and wrung his hands together.Now, warring against someone else was easy. everything they did was dumb, stupid, idiotic, not good enough. Draco knew, absolutely for certain Harry had no control over his magical outburst - it wasn’t his fault Charlie put dragonblood in the potions Harry asked for. It was also Harry’s fault Scorpius might’ve been hurt, dangerously so. So, what was he to do? How was he supposed to settle opposing knowledge like this? “He didn’t get hurt, did he?” Draco wouldn’t forgive himself if his son had to weep over his wounds alone, afraid over how Draco would react. Harry shook his head and it did nothing to settle the squirming maggots in Draco’s gut and the lump in his throat.“No, no they were all okay. Ron. Ron helped keep them safe.” But if he hadn’t been there… “I’m going to bed. Goven can deal with you from now on.”Draco left the room, ignoring his name being called. It hurt. To be in the dark so much over Scorpius despite everything. Hermione hadn’t told him. Scorpius hadn’t told him. No one had. Scorpius was his son and no one had told him he was in any danger. The shower was biting cold and Draco didn’t bother to change the temperature neither did he care about the Manor’s suggestion of a meal. He slept in his bed for the first time in three days and he took hours to fall asleep. Awaking, Lotty stood at his bedside and he waited. She wasn’t upset or distressed so Harry was probably still alive.“Mister Potter is refusing treatment from the Healer and from Lotty.” She must have overheard, her tone different in regards to Harry. “He said, he would like to speak with Draco Malfoy before anything proceeds. Lotty told Harry Potter, Master Malfoy was resting, Lotty told him.” Draco sent her away. Then she reappeared, asking again a few hours later. Until it was well into the afternoon and Draco hadn’t taken a step out of bed. Yet, Lotty continued to ask, on Harry’s behalf, for him to come and help. “Lotty was asked again. Lotty didn’t want to be rude - even though Lotty is mending the Manor - Mister Harry Potter wishes Master Draco Malfoy’s presence.”Fine, if Harry wanted to see him, fine. But not yet, not so soon after having the spiteful idea to meet him and tell him exactly what was on his mind. Another shower, another slow dress and groom before Draco was well prepared to deal with the thoughts in his head. Entering, Siobhan was giving what sounded like a lecture. She faltered when Harry sat up straighter and ignored Siobhan altogether. Draco wanted to smash the side table against his face because Siobhan didn’t speak again, she just picked up her things and excused herself, red in the face. She should have stayed, been a distraction, someone else Draco could focus on instead of the brewing anger.For once Harry was patient and Draco could only hear the grandfather clock from outside. “If you ever place my son in harm’s way again, I will do what Voldemort couldn’t.”He expected shock or horror. Unease at relying on Draco for his health but knowing that’s what Draco really thought. Maybe a smugness or jeer that Draco wouldn’t manage such a task. Harry just smiled, if a bit forced.“If I ever hurt any of the kids, I’ll let you.” Harry Bloody Potter, taking his anger away in one Gryffindor, self-sacrificing bullshit sentence. Good. At least Harry knew where he stood. Of course, Draco saw the guilt - it was clear and obvious like a sky with no clouds - and Draco remembered Potter’s own sons and daughter were apparently within the disaster. He didn’t need to pretend that having Scorpius loathe him or Merlin, be scared of him was enough to push Draco to another avenue of conversation just to deny how awful that would truly be for him.“If you’d prefer I can get you another Healer. All be considering.” The dressings on Harry’s arms were grey again, cracking and peeling over the quilt. Clearly there were issues with having Siobhan treat a conscious Harry. She was a liar, untrustworthy and Draco wasn’t surprised at the breakdown in treatment.“I don’t mind her, really. She said you could do them.” Draco doubted every word of that. “I can tell you about what happened while you do.” It was a terrible deal with Draco only gaining more insight to how close Scorpius was to injury, from the very person who caused him harm in the first place. How accurate could Harry be, how truthful would his story be to reality?This was bait. A shitty power move because Potter was holding not only the answers to all of Draco’s questions but he’d be the one who could shut down and change subjects. Damn it. Auror Potter obviously had dealt with politics a tad more than Draco assumed. “Fine.” Draco turned to fetch the soaking bandages. If he saw Harry’s satisfied face at winning (again) Draco would suffocate the man with them. They smelled worse, the older they were. Bitter but reminiscent of peppermint, something that stuck in his nose and throat and opened up his lungs with a breath. Draco sat on the bed, decided even though Harry offered that mangled arm of his - no longer mangled but Draco couldn’t see anything else - he took the other to rewrap first. So, Draco picked and pulled the top of the material and it crackled further and he hated this. “Scorpius was showing off to Lily and Rose.” The annoyance at doing Siobhan’s job eased away. Old and crumbling under Draco’s fingers, he peeled off what he could. Harry seemed too interested in what he was doing and Draco kept his head down and focused on his task. He’d only ask Harry a question if he appeared to avoid or brush over anything.“Then, Albus and James were arguing - Scorpius and Rose and Lily, they all jumped in and were yelling and I... I got angry, y’know? Told them to cut it out and then--” Draco wanted to look at how Harry said those words, to see if it was all just another play. No, don’t bother. What good would it do either of them but make this more awkward or hostile? The only positive thing about this, out of everything, Harry’s temperature was down and Draco couldn’t feel that last furnace of a fever on his skin.“One minute everything’s fine, the next, Ron’s pulling Lily away, apparates the two girls first then comes back for Albus and Scorpius.” He had to thank Ron now. Bloody Merlin was thankful to Ronald bloody Weasley. “James was shouting. So’s Hermione.” Draco tried not to interrupt Potter’s trip down horrifying memory lane but whispered a spell to remove the speckles of bandage and dried goop that were stuck to the hair of his forearm. Now to the problematic part. He really, really didn’t want to touch Potter’s arm, thanks. Not again. Not again. Never.He was a Malfoy, this shouldn’t be such a big deal. Get over it. “Ginny was just crying and saying something - I couldn’t really - really hear her? I was still so mad and I didn’t know why.” Harry paused when Draco stopped trying to roll the damn thing around his arm. Not because Draco was disturbed over what he was hearing. No, he’d bloody well had to fix the way the material had sat on Harry’s arm, not tight enough, and start over. “When it passed, I was outside. Hermione helped me inside and I saw it. How messed up I must be.”Draco could tell, after so many years in school to what he could only call the ‘Potter Gaze’. A heavy, prickling sensation in his head, the back of his neck and Draco was self-conscious of his handiwork. Distraction, that’s what Draco needed. “How was Scorpius?”Harry started again and Draco nearly - but did not because he had something known as impulse control - sighed, and bit his lip. “He was… He was calming Lily and Rose down. But he wasn’t hurt.” Scorpius who had been scared of attention had changed by the end of his fifth year. Seeker for Slytherin and more than eclipsing Draco’s skills created a swell in confidence within the boy that at time Draco wasn’t too fond of - it sounded that this wasn’t one of those times. He’d done well to keep his cool. “I’ve never seen her so upset, neither of them. And, and Albus was nearby. I--” Draco was tempted to flee when Harry’s arm twitched in his hands and for a moment, he was back in that room holding a bloody one down, “--The way everyone looked at me.” One arm complete. Only one more to go, Draco’s mantra helped. Just get over it, it’s just an arm. This side, he was faster. Not wishing to see that flat area of flesh where the scale leech had its banquet. The second time Draco cast his spell only made Harry start talking again. Out of the silence - only the ripping of bandage and squish of goop - Draco preferred the train-wreck of a story Harry was telling.“Ginny said I shouldn’t stay. Ron, he didn’t even look at me. He just -- Hermione practically held him back. And I left.”Draco never asked anything else. What was the point when he could ask Scorpius? What was the point in prolonging this awkward affair that made Draco’s normal still hands tremor slightly. No one would notice. Harry wouldn’t notice. Get over it.“Can I ask you something?” Draco hummed, not too keen on agreeing until he knew for sure what Harry’s end goal. And just as Draco was starting to unwind the bandage on his skin, Harry grabbed his wrist and Draco wanted to apparate. “Do you always flinch when someone touches you?”“I don’t flinch.” Draco kept his eye on the arm he was to fix. Not on Harry’s face or how weak Harry’s grip was around his wrist - Draco could easily break away - or how he sounded concerned. Harry didn’t know what he was talking about. If he could just let go and not make this weird. Draco wasn’t touched by people, no hugs or handshakes, no goodbye pecks of the cheek. “You didn’t answer my question. You avoided Siobhan too.” Did he? Draco didn’t think so. Again, Harry was seeing whatever he wanted to fit his own inference. Really, with Harry refusing medical expertise from the woman who could help versus having Draco - who knew next to nothing, this wasn’t the best solution. A word with Siobhan might sway her to leave early, payment in full but that would still leave Harry in a lurch if any other complications arose. “After her actions I trust Siobhan as much as I would a manticore with a lamb.” Not to say that Harry was the lamb, Draco gulped. Awake he clearly held the same attention most gave him wherever he went. Goven hadn’t been so nice to Draco and he was the one paying her. She was professional in that she wouldn’t let Harry die - and that was all Draco had to rely on. Notwithstanding her lying to try and score points and prestige were irrelevant. ‘Harry Potter needs my help,’ Draco had to wonder how many people were convinced by that alone. He wasn’t entirely sure he was immune to the effect. After all, here he was, wrapping up Harry’s arms as if he didn’t have a Healer on call. Draco grimaced, now uncomfortable beyond words. Harry had calluses on the pads of his fingers.“Is that how much you trust me?”Where was this coming from? If there was one question Draco really couldn’t measure was how much he trusted Potter: he hadn’t a clue what his response to the Rings of Celius would be or how Draco was an animagus, or how terribly bored he was, or how much he loathed those parties because the only person who made them any fun, wasn’t here anymore. Or how, Draco was content leaving Scorpius under his care - even now, the only person left Draco treasured beyond himself. How could he trust the Saviour of the Wizarding World when Draco hadn’t had a conversation that hadn’t held some sniding comment about him or to him?“It doesn’t matter.” Draco didn’t pull his hand back, Harry just gave up and let his hand slide back to the top of the covers. Unfurling the roll of make-shift gauze fell onto the bed and untangled some of itself from Harry’s arm. “It doesn’t? I trust you.”Well, that was a terrible lie. Draco rubbed at his wrist, trying to remove the weight of those fingers. “No, you don’t. You have to trust me right now to do right by you - but anything else and I’m still the Death Eater ready to do bad.” The lack of response proved it. Draco could feel that Potter Gaze from then on. No matter what noise, a fake cough, a clear of the throat, Draco didn’t raise to see what he wanted. No, he was focusing on not vomiting over the place because there it was. The patch of skin which days before had been torn and pulled, bled and made Harry howl with pain. And it was blemish free, as if the nightmare was only in a dream and had never taken place.He unrolled the bandage carefully, he wouldn’t be able to try this one again. Get over it. Just stop staring, Draco wanted to say but instead said, “What?” “Sorry. About before, with Luna. She’s my friend and--”“I’m not.”“That’s not what I meant,” Harry said, sounding like he was the victim in this talk. “You have a habit of saying one thing and implying the other.”“And you take offence whenever I say anything.” Harry sighed and for second, Draco thought this chat over. “Thanks for putting me on the wards, Siobhan said it would help.” That all sounded a little too much like Siobhan gave the impression she’d came up with the idea. One which Draco wouldn’t correct just yet. If Siobhan wanted credit, fine. The less Harry knew of his time near death, the better for them all. What if he didn’t realise how close he had been to dying? Would Potter retreat and curse the Malfoy name again? “I think it’s helping me sleep, actually. I haven’t slept so well in a while.” Draco froze at the top, at the end of this terrible task. Well, that was wrong. Malfoy Manor was not a charm or potion to lull those inside to sleep. It protected and made sure to keep those inside healthy, nudging those inside towards what they required. The Manor might give images of food and blow curative leaves towards them, but it didn’t make anything; not the leaves nor the hot meal. Sleeping woes were never overcome by the Manor. Draco should know, he’d dealt with months of insomnia when Astoria left him. Harry’s cheerful visage was all the more explainable then. A rest, without potion. All because Siobhan - who else could it be - gave the impression his house was a giant dream catcher. Bloody idiot. No, that’s not how it worked. Draco was going to correct the mistake until he saw how Harry did look well rested. Instead of bloodshot eyes, they were their bright green again and Draco faltered. “Right. The Manor likes to keep its wards as happy as possible,” Draco lied and put the knowledge Potter was easily influenced by placebos and half-truths and finished tying off the bandage. Done. Finished. He’d never do this again. “You said the Manor isn’t sentient.” The head tilt was back and Draco sighed deeply. Well, he had to remind himself that Potter was magically inclined but not educated. “It has no feelings or thoughts. No opinion unless I give it one to pursue. It has no will of its own.” “Then you’re happy I’m still around?” Draco scoffed loud enough for Harry to realise how dumb that question sounded. What a bold assumption. “It’s boring in here.” Harry looked around the room and Draco caught the sigh. And that was a jump in conversation. Again. “Look here.” Draco pointed to his own eyes, and Harry just blinked and stared back. Two different sizes. His pupils were two different sizes. How didn’t he see this before? The one time he didn’t stare Potter down. “You took a pain relief potion, didn’t you?” Draco leaned closer and squinted at the left - it was changing size again. Well, what Siobhan had done was clear enough.“How did you know? I told her not to say anything.” Mad is what he sounded, accusingly so. Like Draco had harassed Siobhan for all his secrets. “Because I’m not thick.” “My arm hurts.” As if to highlight it, Harry pretended to cradle it. As if Draco was dumb enough to fall for this. “Just your arm?”A few seconds dragged by and Harry didn’t enjoy being questioned. “Just my arm.” Harry wasn’t budging. Draco couldn’t prove otherwise and let it drop. He’d make sure to question Goven later. Wandering over to the still transfigured table, Draco set another clean but not soaked dressing into the goop. He was too intent on keeping the whole thing inside than listening to Harry’s patter. Potter’s Gaze followed him all the meanwhile. Five minutes and Draco thought he’d blocked Harry’s voice out permanently. Until he heard him.“...That’s kinda funny.”He’d almost missed it, Draco wasn’t sure if he heard that in its entirety. “What is?” “Forget I said anything.” It was the bludgering way he’d forced the words out - they couldn’t be said quick enough. Draco wasn’t sure what in this room was funny - other than him and all he was doing was now getting rid of that foul smell from his hands. What remained a vague curiosity ended up having Draco’s full attention even as Lotty entered with another meal. Potter had forced his mouth shut, hand over it awkwardly and elbow on his knee. Staring out the window as Lotty placed the dish on the bed, Draco watched as Harry’s face got redder. A flush crawling up his neck to his jaw, to his cheeks. “Right,” Draco said as he left Lotty to feed Potter.He hated missing anything and now, he had the urge to turn back into an owl and fly away. Potions were still downstairs needing to be tended to - and Harry was, slowly, healing. So, he went to his laboratory and ignored self-conscious question that was niggling in his head: What was so funny? Why, Merlin, was Harry blushing? Had Siobhan given him the wrong dosage? If so, what was he supposed to do about it? Two of his potions boiled over and Draco swore.
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Neither Siobhan, Lotty nor Draco ever claimed to have witnessed Harry use so much as an Accio. Siobhan gave the impression this was common and gave a blanket command that Harry should not use any magic, not until he could walk on his own. No point in stressing him out when his nervous and immune system was still fighting off whatever infection the leach left.
Another week passed and Draco was glad at the routine which allowed him to squirrel himself away in his lab following no interruptions. Sixty potions and counting and Draco understood Charlie Weasley’s desperation. Either the potion’s half life was too short and would be ineffective lasting a whole night or the ingredients themselves counteracted with each other and boiled over.Draco was no Master of potions as much as he liked how that sounded. Snape was, probably knew a million different ways to make Potter what he needed. Trial and error made one potion slow, so slow at times Draco couldn’t say he’d made any progress. Three cauldrons were set up today, bubbling anew and Draco scoffed at his notes. A strong primer, something to bind the rest together: he wasn’t sure if he had one. Was it wrong to enjoy this? To have his brain scratch and pull at an answer he was sure he could grasp. Soon, Harry might turn back to an insomniac his restful nights gone and even then Draco liked the idea of the mystery, a puzzle to solve and the reward that he was the one to solve it. Not his money given for someone else to solve it, him, Draco Malfoy. He heard Siobhan’s pitter-patter footsteps as she trotted down the stairs, behind her was the charmed and transfigured armchair. Not as bulky as its original form, allowing it through the doorways of the Manor, and on it was Harry. “He was in need of a new setting.”“And he’s sleeping?” Draco wasn’t sure trusted Potter asleep. Too often than not, he awoke when Siobhan was not in the room or left not long before. “We were in the garden. Which reminds me I will need an hour at most to purchase some supplies that are running low.” Siobhan set down the chair nearby the planter box and Harry did not stir. Draco refused to move, even if having Potter behind him was a prime locale to start his staring nonsense again. The back of his head couldn’t be that interesting.Whether it be the pain potions Siobhan supplied him, the extra sleep he gained here while under the illusion it helped: Potter was weird. Strange. Chirpy. “Anything else?”Siobhan sided up to the counter and Draco frowned at the green tint one of the cauldrons turned. That couldn’t be good, it’d been yellow the minute before. “I don’t see why we’re at odds, I think we could benefit each other quite well.” Draco flicked his eyes over to Siobhan, who was turning over one of the empty potion vials in her hands. Pansy had said something similar once. “Perhaps you’ll speak more plainly before I get the wrong idea.” “What can I say? I’m ambitious.” She half-shrugged. “A clinic of my own is what I want. I could have an entire ward of people rushing around to Harry Potter’s every whim. I certainly don’t need to be doing all this… trainee cleaning.” Her nose scrunched and Draco wondered how long she’d been resentful at casting cleaning spells. “I don’t just want your Galleons, Mr. Malfoy. These too. I could give a list of patients who need someone… decent at brewing a potion or too, not that they’d take a potion from a Malfoy. I’d happily mediate, for a fee.” She smiled, not unpretty in the least and Draco froze at the sound of her voice, “It could benefit us both quite well.”Right. He set down the knife.“You couldn’t make Ravenclaw, never mind Slytherin.”“Some nuisance to that insult was lost I’m afraid.” Siobhan continued to read the labels on the empty vials, twisting them in her hands and paranoia she’d drop them reared. She was quite ambitious but also quite petty. Beauxbatons, then. The near flirting made sense now - never too obvious and never a complete rejection. Everyone knew sending a daughter to Beauxbatons meant to make her a lady of distinguished reputation. In the same vein, Krumstrang made their men rough and belligerent, the ladies from the French school were femme fatales through and through. Many a rich man had handed his last Knut over to a graduate of that bloody school. Draco wasn’t interested in being the newest fool. “I didn’t purchase your services because they were the best in your field, Ms. Goven. I bought you for your silence. Either Potter lives, in which case you can’t use it as a stepping stone in your little agenda or Potter dies in which case-- and do listen well -- I will make sure your name is the one attached to it,” Draco sneered at her huffing, “now, why don’t you go and buy those herbs you’ve been lacking so much over the last few days.” Siobhan flicked her wand, and Harry’s chair was back in the air. “You can leave him here in Lotty’s care, I gather you won’t be too long. You do still have a job to do.” Draco wasn’t satisfied at Siobhan’s retreating pout. He half wanted Astoria to raise from her grave and hex her into oblivion. Did he look like someone who was easily swayed by a pretty face? Don’t make him laugh. The most beautiful woman in the world was his wife - a little, pathetic and too fake a smile did nothing but sour his affections. His anger, the insult which came with the flirtation, that he was all but a payment to further someone else was enough. In Siobhan’s defence, he wouldn’t have been so angry if not to be reminded of bloody Anthony Wilks. A man half Draco’s age and still keen to have the Malfoy fortune, in some form. Draco hadn’t managed to say anything back then, Blaise and Nott had laughed their arses off. His day was ruined.Bloody Anthony Wilks.Bloody waste of a wizard. Moran had no brain but at least the brat didn’t think of marrying into a family he was not welcome. An attempt at Astoria, now aimed at him and Draco loathed the ease Anthony’s affections passed over and he was under no illusions as to why. Malfoy’s were not welcome but they still held coffers of fortunes that eclipsed every other pureblood. The youthful really were a terrible curse upon themselves. “One last thing, Ms. Goven.” She stopped by the stairs and Draco made sure to turn and meet her eye. She was petulant, not having the conversation go her way. “The next time you try and be ambitious, don’t speak like I’m in need of your services. I can find several of your types anywhere, at any time - just do the job I paid you to do.” She fled away, red on her face that more matched Gryffindor’s banner. Draco shuddered and returned to stir a cauldron.On cue, the tingling at the back of his head started and Harry Potter was awake. He didn’t even need to turn around to check. Best let Potter think he’d managed to hear the conversation incognito than possibly discuss the galleon-chasers of the wizarding community that were always after the Twenty-Eight’s descendants. Brewing a potion and having Potter stare was not fun, not like how it would be if Draco was alone. Now the same questions bubbling in his head and unlike the cauldrons and potions, he had no idea what anything meant. Bed bound was no fun and allowing Harry some freedom to roam the Manor was an idea that for him, had backfired in momentous style. Now Potter was everywhere. Staring.And Draco still hadn’t a clue as to what was so funny to warrant the attention. In cruel response, Harry hadn’t mentioned it again. Draco was bound to never utter the question, not unless he wanted to tell Potter how often his gaze created such a self-conscious and embarrassed mess underneath the Malfoy scowl. The Manor shook and Draco looked to the ceiling. “What was that?” Harry said from behind him. It felt like Blaise. Why was he here now? Damn it. The Manor closed the door at the top of the stairs, time gained, if only a few seconds. Knowing him, he’d check a few rooms before the lab. “Unless you want Blaise knowing you’re sick, sit here.” Draco slid off his chair by the lab and waved Harry’s seat over. Harry nodded, a little frantic and tried to push himself off and onto the other. It was a mess, really. Harry shifting himself over to a chair shouldn’t take that much time. But Draco didn’t offer help, not until the door opened and he heard Blaise yell down.“Draco, you about?”“Down here.” Draco helped then. Grabbing an arm and all but shoving him over. Harry sank onto the counter-top, sighing. One last thing to hide. Draco spelled the out of place seat against the wall, next to the bookcases. The arms bulked up, the wooden legs growing. Draco turned back to his potions, then as a last second fix, levitated Potter and his seat over a bit - no one would believe Draco was allowing him his perch when he was brewing. No, Blaise wouldn’t believe that. Potter sat at the end and Blaise swaggered into the lab. “Potter, here again I see.” Blaise didn’t sound too friendly. “Came to see how you were doing, considering the Prophet.” Blaise held it out and Draco gave a scolding look to Potter. “Don’t touch anything.” He left the station and skimmed the first page. The Prophet did not show him on page one. It mentioned him. ‘Astoria’s Malfoy Was Scared and Unhappy - read page 5’. Turning to see the same letter Daphne had warned him over, in the midst of a popular newspaper turned his stomach. Unhappy? Astoria? Because he, Draco Malfoy was cruel and cold to her? Sure. That was lie after lie and Blaise and Potter were watching him too closely now.“Consider it handled.” The Prophet wasn’t a wand ready to aim and cast at his head. The Greengrasses were aware of the letter, aware it would be spread around. Daphne had given him reasonable time to think over the eventuality this would happen.Blindsided and reacting out of anger Draco was not. The Greengrasses would, along with any other allies of their family would rise to meet this. But Draco could not. It would hinder the argument Daphne would use: anyone who believed this was a fool - that it held no merit. Draco responding was exactly what the Prophet was hoping for and Draco was glad to disappoint the glorified gossip rag. “It’s in the paper, it’s not handled.”Blaise was a Zabini. A family which solidified its image by being as far away from political, social and moral scandal. This might have him running for the hills panicking. A Malfoy? Excuse him while he sharpened his talons, he’ll answer this when necessary. Draco shrugged, not bothering how Blaise and Harry interacted so long as no secrets were shared. “So, Potter, are you going to be a permanent fixture around here or what?” “Draco’s helping me with a case.” Draco was so terribly glad Potter was focused on the wall in front and not on Zabini. He’d smell a lie fast. “Is he now?” Damn it. Not even the possibility of Harry asking Draco for help entertained Blaise for more than a few seconds. This had to end fast and with as little chatter as possible because all Blaise would do was dig and dig.“Having you and Potter in the same room as the potion I’m trying to brew is asking the Fates to ruin it.” Returning to chop up the rest of the rose thorns, Draco pretended everything was perfectly fine. Potter was taking up too much room and Blaise wouldn’t sniff out Draco’s lie: that this was a comfortable position to stand in while caring for three boiling cauldrons and that Potter wasn’t in the way. Harry was way too warm, too close and Draco kept ending up with an elbow in the ribs.“You’re in a shitty mood, did I interrupt?” Blaise’s smile was always a bit blinding and more than a little crude. Draco shifted his weight, away from Potter, where he stood and decided to explain that one.“I was reminded of Wilks.” “He’s still at it?” For one, Blaise was too impressed, too smug and far too irritating to delve deeper into that thought on the actions of that galleon-chaser. “He’s committed.” Blaise grinned, crossed his arms and looked far too pleased with himself. “You get it?”“Worst joke I’ve heard all day and Lotty only knows one.” It wasn’t a polite manufactured laugh that passed between them. Potter erupted and Draco nearly flinched, Blaise didn’t so much as chuckle and the damned self-conscious itch was back and a flutter in his chest at the sound of Harry’s unabashed laughter was the most confusing thing about it all. Blaise wasn’t eager to leave. It made brewing more difficult contending conversations from two people, who at this point, Draco decided were not well acquainted enough to move passed the side-eye and interrogating questions stage. Potter might actually be trying to dig up dirt versus Blaise might find out about Harry’s vulnerability. Back and forth, question after question and Draco left them to it. “I’ll leave you two alone then. Cooking up whatever.” Blaise took one last peek over the rims of the cauldron, grimaced at the smell of burnt flowers and melting guts.“Thanks for the paper, Blaise.”“Anytime.” Blaise gave a solitary wave as his goodbye and left without the paper he’d delivered. The Daily Prophet’s front page was of a riot, somewhere hot and roads turning sandy instead of muddy. Draco sat the paper down, finally done hearing about what the world still thought of him. Potions were a priority and now he had to contend that Harry Potter was at his side doing his ridiculous staring routine again.Between the potions and the Prophet, Draco didn’t notice the elbow and warmth radiating as much. The locale was not important but the picture was lively, a crup launching itself onto someone - a Muggle, a Wizard, it didn’t matter - Draco was solely interested in the little animal. Just one, not a team or pack, so somewhere its Master must be, in danger. Moving again, the crup pranced around the feet of those it didn’t mind - more likely Wizard enemies then with a few Muggles strewn around.It was, despite its dangerous nature, the bloody most adorable creature ever. The little ears and their little paws and their wet noses and their--“You like crups.”Bugger. What kind of expression had he shown? Draco fixed it. He scowled, noticed the weight as Harry leaned closer to the paper and refused to budge. This was his space. “Does it matter if I do?” Draco pushed the idea he’d made an irrefutable expression over his fondness for the (adorable) creatures, one Potter was going to pick on like a bloody crow at a carcass. “Not as if you’re lacking the space. Or the money.” Harry twirled around some of the chopped up stem, bored and not paying much attention now. Well, Auror Potter wasn’t in today, it seemed. For if Draco had the time, money and desire to buy a crup he’d have a whole field of the blasted things already and still wanted more. He’d wanted one ever since he’d seen one as a child. And his father had refused and Child Draco was devastated at the word no. One of the cauldron's gave a warning shake and Draco calmed the flame. This wasn’t looking good. “I tried to buy one for Scorpius when his mother passed. Not one breeder or vendor would sell to me.” Potter sat up off the counter for the first time. Malfoy’s weren’t allowed them. He (the Death Eater and Death Eater’s son) weren’t allowed them. When his quest for a crup pup for Scorpius ended in failure, Draco had an epiphany that his father hadn’t told him no because of discipline or harshness but even he hadn’t manage to obtain one.“I’ll buy you one when I’m allowed to walk around again. As thanks and all.”Draco froze. No. No, Potter didn’t understand. “You can try. Blacklisted doesn’t care if you’re Harry Potter.”Harry laughed and Draco hated how it made him giddier. “That’ll be a first.”The sheer blooming excitement over the possibility of having his own was too much. No. No. Draco couldn’t expect Potter to understand. He couldn’t begin to hope for one. It was a dream, a dream that as a father unable to give his son, wasn’t allowed. He bit his lip, hard to stop him from sounding grateful. All Harry was doing was speaking. There would be no crup, no one would sell even Harry Potter one if they knew it ended up in Malfoy’s hands.But he really did want crup. Another look at the Prophet showed the little thing wagging its tail and Draco needed to think and talk about something else. He threw the Prophet to the floor, the distraction gone and the work back in front of him. “They won’t sell to you unless you go inside to see them. A crup bonds and is fiercely loyal - and there’s no way I’ll be allowed inside. It’s pointless.”“Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”The shrug irked because Draco didn’t want to believe those words - but he did, because they were so much like Harry Potter. He’d fought against a whole army seeking him out in the countryside and still he’d won - but the shrug was so… not bothered and Draco wasn’t sure he’d be able to walk into a place with crups for sale and be told no again. Hearing this, hoping for something else was just a sure way to crush the dream.No. Potter was wrong. (Maybe). Definitely wrong. (Not). A new subject, a new subject, think, think, think. “Before that, you’ll have to go and see a certain apothecary to prove I didn’t kill you.” Draco killed the hope dead as he threw in a measure of rose thorns into the three cauldrons. The burning smell turned sweeter, more pungent. Draco would not remind him the trip to this apothecary was done in his pyjamas. Even if the owner allowed him back, his pride would never dare set foot in there again. How did he look that night? Not decent at any rate. Now, if only Harry could agree to Obliviate her. “Okay.” So, what now? Once Harry was able to move around without aid Draco had appointments now? With Harry? To two places that were explicitly on his no go list. They might end worse than the first time he’d shown his face. Harry was being odd. Really, really, really odd. Perhaps a side effect from the pain potions? For one, he hadn’t shifted from his awkward position neither did he complain about Draco having to lean almost over him for access to the the third cauldron, or the occasional shoulder bump.“You’re being terribly upbeat today.”A few days prior, Harry had refused to answer anyone after Draco didn’t redo a dressing. They'd argued, not surprisingly. All the leaves were gone now, the mixture grey and too old to be of any use. Draco had then asked Siobhan if they were addictive in any way. She had giggled at him and Draco didn’t need any words to feel daft.“I’ve already died once. How bad can things really get?”No measures made it to any cauldrons.
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Was it rude to ask about circumstance when involving near death experiences? Potter was a liar, a poor one at that. So, even if Draco asked how or why, would his answers really mean anything? The measuring cup was half full and Draco couldn’t remember how much was to be added. Cauldron One was a copper pot, older than even Draco and forever blackened on its underside. The flames gave off a sickening metallic stench which stung at his eyes. Smoke rose and sparks flicked over the rim.Draco wasn’t sure why Harry was lying. The Daily Prophet wouldn’t fail reporting the near death of Harry Potter, Golden Boy of Britain. Front page news with all the trimmings, interviews of loved ones and speculation abounds for all to read. Six years ago, Harry started on his journey and not even his magical misconduct was written in any newspaper. Aurors hadn’t given their boss up to the needy reports. Draco might not read bloody gossip - he was far too important for everyone else’s nattering opinion - but Potter always made headlines. Visible and outrageous headlines. And yet, nothing in the papers pointed to what might cause Potter to die, to go off on a bender with sleeping potions and potentially ruin his own life over its side effects.“You—you died?” Draco didn’t want to consider the world where Potter did die, did lose. A last hope, however small and despised, was what Harry Potter was against Voldemort and his vision of a new world. Never would he admit it to anyone, not even under an Unforgivable. Funny how Draco was not brave or smart enough, not strong or lucky enough to turn against the monster in his house, who kept his mother and father quaking. But Potter was, always was the qualities Draco found himself lacking.Harry didn’t answer, not right away. He continued to twirl and twist the stems in his hands - his fingertips dyeing a dull green. Each time Harry pulled back, he bumped his shoulder against Draco. It was weird to find it didn’t bother him as much as it once did. Dropping another measure of thorns, he glanced over to Potter. Really Harry didn’t seem to be upset over the question. Just quiet and tearing at the useless ingredients. Harry inclined his head, not like a nod which gave little up for misinterpretation. This was all he gave in response. For once in his life, Draco didn’t press for more information even if those titbits were no doubt the most interesting he’d hear. They might give Draco a hint to how to brew the perfect cure for the lack of sleep or simply how to converse with Potter without arguing and tripping over every invisible sensibility. Another bump into his shoulder, this one deliberate and wholly too rough to play it off as anything different. “Can I ask you something?” Not really. “When do you leave the Manor?” Harry’s brow furrowed and he shifted in his seat. “You never leave.” “Since when is my comings and goings any of your business?”“The Healer mentioned I could try walking a little when you leave for a bit.” Harry sighed. “You haven’t left the bloody place in a fortnight.” Draco tried, hard, to make sure he didn’t let it slip it was all because of Potter he hadn’t left. Potions to brew left little time to socialise and with the Prophet showing the Malfoy name back into people’s heads, it’d be safer to stay hidden. Until Daphne settled the dispute. “If you haven’t gathered, she wants you to be bored stiff and drop her galleons to take you away.” She was a wily one, he gave her that much. So, Slytherin wasn’t too far out of her grasp. “Then let’s do it now. I’m sick of sitting around.”“Wait for Ms. Goven.”“No.” What a terribly whining thing to say. “You need a break and I doubt you’ll pass up the opportunity to laugh at me.” The joke, if it was one, fell, much like the arachnid fangs did in the cauldrons.“Is that how you see me?” Strange. Emotions were strange and difficult for Harry’s words didn’t hurt. No lashing of the heart or flinch at how he came across towards others. What Draco did feel was clued-in to everyone else, whose gaze met his eye but never for very long and swept over and dismissed him at every step. “Not as a Death Eater but someone who’ll laugh at others’ misfortunes because I’m not fit for much else?”Granted, Draco was no philanthropist. He spent more money on himself and Scorpius than most families would ever see in generations. His father lacked much interest in the same people - those outside the family or under his responsibility to pamper. Galleons weren’t hamfisted into peoples’ hands for a quick and shallow show of change. He hid his gifts in a slew of accounting nightmares. No one would accept his gift anyway, so Draco did what was necessary. Guilt or a new found compassion: Draco wasn’t sure which goaded him to throw his money around. He could. So he did. Maybe it wasn’t the War but how Astoria kept her compassion whilst the world went to shit. Maybe it wasn’t but how being a father made him strive for a better, kinder world. But maybe it wasn’t. Maybe Draco Malfoy wanted to carve out a minute whisper in the world, that he wasn’t a cruel unfeeling man. He most definitely wasn’t cruel. Petty, certainly. Dogmatic and pompous but not cackling like his Aunt at a tortured, sobbing Hermione. Right. Potions. Cauldron One was smoking, purple swirls that jumped over the others before dissipating. Cauldron Two and Three were quiet. What was the difference in recipe? Ah, more thorns less fang of arachnid. “Every Healer I’ve ever come across either treats me like I’m indestructible and I should deal with it or I’m made of glass and I’m not allowed to take any risks. Laughing at me would be an improvement.”Potter was annoyingly naive at times. Did he really not see why? Even he, Draco Malfoy, someone who had already had Potter stand up and say to everyone else he wasn’t actually a Death Eater still made sure not to be seen near him. Just in case any disaster was blamed on his presence near him.“Of course not, you’re Harry Potter vanquisher of Voldemort. Can you imagine what a Healer would do if you died under their care? And laughing at you - even if you are a menace to all order - I wouldn’t waste my time doing so over you being unable to walk. That’s not...”“I suppose your humour’s more… sparkly badges and singing demoralising chants and dressing up as Creatures of--”The reminiscing about Hogwarts, Harry, Hermione and Ron was uncomfortable. In such that Draco did find some of them hilarious still - Ron using his broken wand to try and cast spells and how awfully sore that punch was from Hermione - to the more uncomfortable knowledge of how much effort he’d put into those bloody badges.Merlin, he was so glad Pansy never spoke up about those. He’d actually not slept well the night before, not because he handmade them - that was for the elves to do - but because he couldn’t stop howling at the expectation of what Potter would do once he saw them. Merlin, what a little shithead he was. What an embarrassing little shithead he was.“Do shut up, you’re distracting me.” Cauldron Two sparked, caught onto Cauldron One and its sweep of purple and exploded into tiny red crumbs that glittered and hovered in the air with no urgency to drop. Draco gave it an extra stir clockwise.“I can be even more distracting.” His thoughts stuttered. This pattern. Draco would fall for the bait, be dragged along and end up doing whatever it was Potter wanted and Draco would be red in the face and furious over losing. “I don’t doubt it.” And the other half was more aware of the dye that was once on Harry’s fingers was now spread over his cheek and brow, evidence of a scratch hidden under the dull green.Harry had no idea, did he? Keeping the amusement under wraps, Draco managed to level a smirk. And Harry went back to fidgeting and again, the muscles in his jaw twitched and Draco didn’t dare look away because Harry was sitting there - with his ridiculous hair splayed about in the air and lines across his face as if he’d taken too keen an interest in a devil plant snare. That - that was funny. No mirror or reflective surface was in the laboratory, not including the water itself but with Cauldron One, Two and Three their surfaces were disturbed and Potter wouldn’t see a thing about his new fashion choices. “What?” Harry rubbed at his neck, readjusted his glasses and did his best - bless him - to look nonplussed and Draco snorted, holding back another laugh. Harry had just smeared more over the bridge of his nose, over the curve of his brow and over neck. No, Draco wouldn’t tell him. Not yet, anyway.“I’ll help, once these Cauldrons don’t need to be attended to; fifteen minutes give or take.”Harry knew - Draco knew he knew - detrimental or not - but not what - Draco was hiding something from him. Fifteen minutes should help dry those stains in pretty well and give time for Harry to add in more. Fifteen minutes passed and it was delightful to add Harry had now a hilarious collection of green on his face. Stasis spells were useful but Draco did not want to subject either of his potions to the slight increase in temperature once the spell was removed. He simply stirred all while Harry huffed, not understanding why Draco’s mood lifted.Awkward wasn’t the word. Unaccustomed might fit better as Draco’s wife was content to be swept literally off her feet and into his arms, he doubted Potter would appreciate the act. Harry was trying to walk not simply move rooms - anyone who Draco held any affection for was lucky, absolutely lucky, honestly because he was Draco Malfoy and he was the head of the Malfiy name and wouldn’t do such a thing for just anyone.“I’m going to walk up the stairs.” Harry spoke in the manner he always did. Confident, so self-assured Draco was expecting him to march, healed and have no trouble. What he got was a shaking-limbed man, much that reminded Draco of a newborn owl which couldn’t stand, but flailed their wings and fell over unable to hold their own weight. Harry clamped his hands over the counter-top of the laboratory and Draco stood by him waiting for the fall. The veins raised on Harry’s forearms and temple, his face turning a shade of red and Draco held out an arm as if he was going to side along with Potter.“I don’t think either of us want to see you crawl up the stairs.” “I’m going to walk up the stairs.” Harry gritted his teeth. Again, Draco wondered how Harry could lie so poorly and yet for those words to hold any meaning - they did and Draco believed him.It was a slow process. Harry was placed back on a seat before he tired himself out too much. One step at a time. Each step came with the lab chair following obediently behind him. Sometimes, Harry would try and slip off his chair but stay perched, and would stare at the floor in preparation and Draco had stopped asking if this was enough, if Harry was tired. Harry made it across the room and Draco was a little giddy over it all. So, Harry was recovering. He just wished the magic aspect wasn’t such a mystery. It was too much too soon though and Draco saw the moment he pushed himself too hard. A valiant effort to step back and sit down but in that moment his legs were trembling mess and buckled. Outstretching, Harry had grabbed both onto the unmovable wall and Draco’s arm.“Let’s leave the stairs for later,” Draco muttered, not wishing to cut the enthusiasm and willpower Harry had shown too much. Impressive was the word that came to him. Stubborn too. His breathing was laboured and the words seemed to stick in his throat. “I can do it.” Trying again to gain his balance, Harry failed to push Draco away. He wasn’t strong enough. Sighing at the sight, Harry Potter a mess of sweat and green lines and spots, Draco eased him back into the seat. “You don’t have to do this all in one go.”Whatever issue was pushing Potter to move faster, heal quicker dimmed then. Draco pinpointed how the very allowance of that idea permeated and trickled down from an insulted indignation to sheer relief. Harry sighed too, mumbled a thanks and Draco returned to levitating the chair with Potter on it. They returned to the potions which were still going strong. Draco also conjured a mirror right there and then and showed Harry’s his face. He slipped it towards him, this little ornate mirror and Harry’s eyes may as well have fallen from their sockets. “Bloody hell, Malfoy! You could have--” Harry stumbled over his words, and Draco laughed loud and hard, his stomach cramping. His face was priceless, part shocked, part embarrassed, a touch of anger and just a hint of confusion. Draco’s laughter started to hurt and he could barely make out why, “You look like a troll sneezed on you!”Harry just wiped at his face, more lines of green trailing behind his fingers. It was then, the sharp expression of Potter gearing up for revenge made Draco step away. “Is that really wise, I have free range on my magic,” Draco said as he took calming breaths.“You’re right.” Harry slumped in his seat, a small sigh escaping his lips - the bottom wore a thumbed green line and Draco was too distracted as Potter launched himself out of the chair. Before Harry hadn’t fell to the floor, but it was a near thing now, as Draco stumbled to keep himself upright from the colliding weight.“Don’t worry. You’re a Slytherin, you look good in green.”Time was not stretched, slowed or stopped for long enough for Draco to come up with both a witty retort or a reason why several - weird - other reactions occurred all at the same time. The dye was not wet or gooey but it was a residue, sticky and Harry’s hands clammy. It wasn’t a dig with the nails, despite cut short and neat, but Harry’s fingers and both hands played too much a part on how Draco’s brain overloaded.For an act of friendship he’d played out a hug and regretted it. Having anything smeared onto his face was a horrifying idea (he was a Malfoy, he had standards). And it was truly horrifying because Harry was up in his face and triumphant and Draco knew then his threat hadn’t worked. He struggled only momentary, kept the wrists of a weak Harry under control, trying not to hurt him, and away from his face. But it didn’t matter because when Harry Potter wanted to do anything not much stopped him (other than moral high grounds). Harry’s face was by large too close and before Draco could do anything, Harry rubbed his cheek against Draco in a way, reminded him of a fond cat.And Draco could feel it. Not just the plant green that was no doubt on his face, but the heat of his skin against Harry’s. His breath in his ear that tingled down his neck and down his back, the weight of him lulling against him - he’d fall otherwise - and Draco froze when a hand went into his hair - the sound of footsteps were deafening.“Sorry to interrupt but it is medicine time for Harry.”Breathless and trying to ignore the reappearance of Siobhan, Draco tried to wipe away the sensation replaying on his skin. That was weird part. Medicine time. Pain relief that all three of them knew Harry was receiving and yet… Siobhan always left the room and Harry always followed and always, Harry pushed Draco away. It was infuriating really, knowing someone was keeping a secret. Why? What was it? Did it involve him? Why couldn’t he know? Draco didn’t want another week, another fortnight of this paranoia. “Right, well. I’ll be back tomorrow, around noon. Don’t bother trying to contact me till after,” Draco instructed Siobhan, ignored the heat in his face - no doubt as green and ridiculous looking as Harry’s. He was going to find out what these two were up to. First he needed to go to the Ministry and write a fake letter. “Draco--” Harry said his name and Draco didn’t want Siobhan to hear him say it. Not like that.He left, fast to wash away the evidence. He scrubbed at his skin, upset at himself for losing. His beautiful hair was blotchy green and he raked his hands through it over and over again. For him, physical contact was a family thing, people barely gave him a handshake. What the fuck was that? He scraped his nails against the back of his neck, wanting the memory of such a ridiculous, stupid (bloody Harry Potter) way of cheating out of his system. Fresh memories don’t leave so soon and Draco dragged himself from his room, face and hair washed but still feeling off-kilter. “Lotty! I have a mission for you, of the utmost importance.” House elves were always a joy to give orders to since they revelled in helping and aiding the family they own their loyalty. Despite Hermione and Draco’s opposing opinion on what the house elves position in society truly was they both agreed on treatment. Draco just wanted the elves to stay and continue to help in-house. Paying them was a bizarre idea, one Lotty herself had cried over - believing it a twisted way of Draco trying to abandon her to the rest of the world. Draco gave her a Sickle every year, near Yule, to buy herself something - blamed it on it being a necessity than anything else so Lotty took the money. If she hadn’t spent one Knut of it, that wasn’t Draco’s concern. A Galleon was too much and Lotty was beside herself in her refusal. Lotty’s eyes were wide and she nodded furiously as Draco explained exactly what was going to happen. She’d tell Harry Potter there was a bird in the Owlery which would only allow him to go near it and read the letter. Lotty would also explain she was making dinner - Siobhan should be forced to go with Potter to help move him. The next was simple, just listen in. Not think about how warm--Draco went into his owl form, stretched his wings wide and flew to the Owlery which sat at the south of the Manor. His family owned only a dozen birds, differing in speed and stamina. The peregrine falcon was the fastest in the world but was awful sending between long distances and so, his own owl - one he’d sent his letters to and fro from mother at Hogwarts sat, proud and fat on one of the many wooden perched littered throughout the room, some levitating.The Owlery resembled Hogwarts own, small alcoves built into the wall but instead of the cages, they were left unbarred. No one else needed the room but delivery owls and falcons so free reign ran in abundance here. The room was cleaned by Lotty exclusively and it always had a peculiar smell to it as if the fragrances were covering up something a tad musky or wet.He cooed at the owls who greeted him, each giving a call of territory and warning. His own Eurasian eagle-owl was much larger and tended to cuddle up to him in a way that made Draco wonder if she knew who he was. Now, he would just wait.Was it risky? Yes, of course, it was bloody the riskiest Draco was going near while Potter was in the Manor. Siobhan and Harry however were not entirely trustworthy or honest. Trading in pain potions and Harry reluctant to demand walking help from Siobhan whilst she refused was a curious scenario. What else was going on? Lotty had not raised any alarm. So he waited, high up in the Owlery with his own owl sitting next to him and the visiting owl perched next to her. She squatted down, puffing up her feathers and nuzzled at Draco’s beak.’I have no treats for you.’ She shrieked, upset but didn’t fly away. Waiting was easy. It was when Harry was carried in, the chair different and more plush and Siobhan followed behind him his nerve started to twinge. The delivery owl from the Ministry flew down to meet Harry, a quickly scrawled note that Draco sent. They didn’t talk about anything relating to potions or Harry’s ailments. What they discussed was a strange topic of Draco himself.Now, not to say being talked about was always a horrid experience. He’d overheard a few conversations in his day from: ‘he’s cute’ to ‘he’s awful’. Nice to know Harry talked about him too. Of course he bloody did.“I still think you should leave Mr. Malfoy and this Manor. He’s not exactly got the temperament.”“Neither do you,” Harry snapped and it reminded him of Hogwarts, how he and Harry used to have venom and hate and spite all muddled together because they were exactly what they were taught to hate. Hogwarts felt like a lifetime ago. “You can’t stay here forever. You have my word, I’ll find discrete people. We can all help you then.” Draco had to wonder if Siobhan had asked for galleons from Harry before coming to him. She was trying to play them both - two payments for one task. He’d keep an eye on any expensive Siobhan’s suggestions.“I’m not trying to stay here forever.”“Good. When he finds out, he’s going to throw you out and I will not be held accountable.” Siobhan left in a whirlwind of energy, scowling at the empty portrait pictures that adorned the walls.“Probably,” Harry said after she left and Draco peered at him, wondering.Harry stayed where he was for a time. Until another pygmy owl swooped down and he gave him attention. He Accio’d the owl treats from across the wall without his wand.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The treats spelled over caused an uproar in the other owls, some fluttering down to inspect the noisy bag, others clued in on what they saw and descended slower. A few frustrated shrills came from older owls that sat on the arm of Harry’s chair. Draco didn’t move, yet. He hadn’t considered revealing himself, simply hiding in plain sight.When had Harry’s magic returned? Why was Potter staying here - notwithstanding his Manor was above and beyond the sty of Potter’s abode - was Potter snooping? Using his illness as easy access to check out the infamous Malfoy Manor and its unfathomable secrets as a suspicious Auror?Harry made several noises, cooing over the soft feathers of each and holding out a fleshy treat which began a flapping and squawking bickering row between the larger birds. The falcon didn’t bother, he stayed high up in his own alcove but kept an eye on Draco.Perhaps the birds could tell he wasn’t really like them. “Hey, hey, calm down.” Harry hadn’t bothered to see to the fake letter which sat on his lap. Some of the larger birds retreated, another flying to fight over the food not yet devoured. Three routes of play reared its head. One: Draco could leave and in time reveal to Potter he knew or use it against him. Not the best manner to deal with this kind of lie. Once Draco revealed he knew, then Potter had no reason to speak the truth and ultimately could deny everything and Draco wouldn’t find out why. Why in Merlin’s name was Harry Potter keen to stay in the Malfoy Manor? Did he not trust Draco with so many Dark Artefacts? Or was this more Gryffindor bullshit to try and protect Draco from another attack?Two: he could shut Harry’s mouth of asking about being an animagus. Unless Harry wanted to talk about why he was lying about his magic, then Draco’s true form was safe too. Not safe like Hermione’s knowledge, no, Draco would never outright speak of this and neither would Potter. Any urgency on Harry’s part might have him spill Draco’s secret and then where would he be?Third: fly away and never speak about what he heard. Watch and wait to see exactly what Harry wanted by being here. Why should Draco own up to any lies or misgivings? Not when Harry was the one with an ulterior motive. Weighing up the options, it all fell down to how Harry reacted. Anger over Draco lying beforehand or smug over being right in the first place. Smug would be preferred as Harry made poor decisions when riled. If the plan didn’t work out, he could argue he wasn’t this owl. It just so happened the same breed arrived to receive a letter of its own. His eyes, well, he might manage to lie his way out of that one; a half-breed or rare pigmentation, whichever Harry would swallow first. But if Harry wanted to stay in the Manor and it seemed it was a necessity for Draco to think him a crippled squib rather than nearly healed. And Draco was happy enough to allow that illusion, so long as Potter knew that was all it was.Harry didn’t notice him, for he was flying around and watching the last few owls grab some food and return to their alcove nests. He landed shortly after Harry began to read the short and faked letter. So, Draco groomed his feathers, keen to seem like an ordinary owl. He sat for what felt like hours. As the fake message of wishing Harry well was read more than once. Going by how many times Harry struggled to put the damned thing down. Draco heard his old Hogwarts owl call for him and twist her head around as she waited for a reply.‘Stay there.’ Draco wanted her to understand but she fluttered to a nearer stand and like a sentry, eyed Harry before she started nipping at the air whenever Harry moved forward in his seat. Draco hooted for attention. Best hurry this up. “Oh, sorry I--” Harry grabbed inside the bag and froze as Draco nipped the cut of meat from his palm, ignoring the guilt rushing over Harry’s face in red hives. “Draco?”So, he hadn’t managed to convince Harry he wasn’t an animagus at all, if his first conclusion wasn’t just an eerily similar owl. Going straight to believing an owl was an unregistered animagus was not a normal reaction even in the Wizarding World. “Draco? Is- is that you?” Wiping his hand onto his trousers, the expected excuses started, “I can’t do much else than levitate or call items, you know?”Draco was an owl, he was not interested in words or their inflections but the food in Harry’s possession. Right, Draco had to act convincing enough to allow some doubt, some leeway just in case. He jumped over to the opposite arm, gave a curious bob of his head to try and see inside the bag. The Ministry owl made a ruckus and left - the peregrine falcon scaring it off in a series of screams.“Draco?” Harry didn’t sound convinced but unlike the other attempts, gave a tentative pet Draco on the back of his head.Well, it wasn’t awful, so Draco allowed it. Grabbing another one, Draco was offered again and trying to take this one proved more difficult. Harry moved his hand back, “Accio. perch.” One of the free perches dropped, skidded on the ground and came to an abrupt stop beside him and Draco, as much as he wanted to pretend he hadn’t noticed anything but the food had to wait.Wait until Harry commanded him to jump up onto the perch. Now, an owl might not understand what they needed to do as Harry kept the treat hovering just near the wood, but would follow the food regardless. Draco didn’t much like the idea he was following Harry’s every whim. But Potter probably knew that too. Fine. He settled onto it, not letting his eyes off the cut of meat. “Draco, I know it’s you. Did you forget I’ve seen you like this before?”Impatient, Draco hissed and tried to grab the food. Harry teased it again.“Draco, I know it’s you,” Harry repeated it over and over and Draco kept the owl behaviour up. Doubt was a powerful thing and potentially useful. Food orientated and not too bothered over pleasing whoever had the food, Draco nipped at Harry’s fingers if he dared tried to tease him again. If he could snatch it away, then he would. And did. In one last effort to make Potter wake up to what that meant for him, Draco stared at the perch, then back to Harry, then back to the perch. This wasn’t his sharpest moment. Figure it out, Potter. Every past Head Auror would cringe at this.If Harry wanted to pretend his secret of using magic safe, all he had to do was discount Draco in owl form. They wouldn’t need to talk then. Draco could keep his secret and Harry his. But Potter was either acting dumb or Draco had overestimated how sharp Potter was. When Harry held onto his wing, he waited not sure what Potter was after. “I just want to check your wings,” he said and Draco watched, in his unblinking owl stare. He was a little insulted, really. His plan benefited both of them, why did Harry have to be so oblivious at times? Harry tried to find the curse mark, the scarred feathers but as he extended Draco’s wings, Harry became confused.“So… you aren’t Draco?”Draco folded his wings back and did his best to provide Harry with a scathing expression. What a bloody idiot. How could he be so on point at times and so far away others? Right now, Harry pulled a face that told Draco he might hurt himself with whatever was going on in his head.“I guess that means you must be his favourite.”Bloody what? Tilting his head all the way around, seeing Potter from upside down did not help explain what Potter was talking about. Again. “Animagus take form depending what’s dear to them, memories and stuff” Harry said as he scratched him at the top of his beak - instinctively, Draco closed his eyes to keep them safe. Astoria’s favourite animal was an owl. (And a sneaking suspicion it was also Potter’s). “So, I guess you’re his favourite owl.” Another scratch, and Draco peeked at Harry under the thick eyelashes of his current form.Harry wasn’t confused any more but along with that came an observation much like Draco did to new potion ingredients. Maybe he wasn’t so far off the mark as Draco once thought. Unlike the other owls, who made Harry coo and speak words of platitude praise that the birds no doubt found irrelevant, Harry spoke little to Draco.For a while, Draco considered he’d messed up as he got another pet around the facial disk that surrounded his face, crowned brown and black. Had he forgotten to factor something in which might change or alter Harry’s perception of what Draco was doing? Did he find this too weird? Harry was not raised in a world of magic and his knowledge about old practises were nonexistent at best.Siobhan returned, two potions in hand and Draco saw how Harry sank back into his chair. “Harry, here.” Siobhan handed one over, another pain potion going by the lilac shade. Harry didn’t take it. “You can go back to spoiling the owl in a minute, I need to check your arm.”Harry used him as a distraction and Draco shifted on the armrest, turning his head around and grooming at the feathers on his neck. Then, Harry regarded him again, as if he was debating on whether Draco was just an owl. Or maybe, maybe he knew Draco was in the room and didn’t want him to hear what Siobhan would say. Offering his arm in a too familiar manner was strange to see. He wasn’t happy over it, that much was clear as he pulled up his sleeve. “More of a cat person myself. Sulk all you want but growing a bone is simple. You’ve had to regrow muscle, nerves, tendons, ligaments - everything the leech cut. Why you think that would be painless, I have no idea.” A tut followed which reminded Draco of the times he disappointed his mother in a small way. “I’ve had to regrow bones before.” Whether the Healer was used to dealing with difficult patients or had simply had enough of Harry’s near bragging over his injuries she tutted again. She prodded Harry’s arm, from the joint of his elbow down to his wrist. Harry did not flinch when it went over the skin where the scale leech had eaten. Not even when the prod was deep enough to draw blood. “Any more pain, spasms, cramps?” Siobhan paid little attention to the hooting Hogwarts owl as she wandered the room and Harry rubbed at his arm, pulled the sleeve back down.“Cramps, that’s all.” A flurry of attention was on him then, instead of Harry using him as a way to avoid looking at Siobhan and her sharp gaze, Draco was attacked. Attacked was a strong word but he was not prepared for the attention he received. He was playing a part and he had thought Harry knew his own part in this lying charade. Confused. That’s what Draco was now. Harry did know he was Draco, right? Draco flew away to the perch to avoid any more pets or strokes that smooshed up and ruined his feathers and set about fixing them.Harry laughed. Ah. Well played, Potter. Well played. “What do you think about Malfoy?” Draco heard Harry ask and he shouldn’t be surprised at the juvenile mindset of Harry. On the other side of the room Siobhan made another noise and Draco stopped setting his wing feathers back to where they should be to watch her.“What everyone else thinks.”“And that would be?” Impatient again, Harry really didn’t need the extra dragonblood to be mad in a few seconds, did he? “Might be the richest person in Britain. Who really knows, I heard they took a hit as they tried to restore some reputation. Still, nothing to sneeze at.”Good, Draco preened. His bluffing had worked wonders! They were most likely in the top ten, but nowhere near what the old vaults contained. Although, most of Malfoy’s wealth these days were in the Artefacts and heirlooms, priceless to collectors or academics. “Anything not about how much money he has?” Harry huffed and Draco wasn’t sure why. Wasn’t Potter still minted? He held more fortune than Draco did and from what the Prophet and ever interview given Harry never seemed to splurge on expenses. So, why was he annoyed at Draco’s fortune? Siobhan shifted before she crossed her arms. “He’s a widow.” Harry was about to speak before she finished her thought, “So he’s probably lonely enough.”“Lonely enough?”“Galleon-chasers are a thing, Harry. They marry or play mistress. It’s a little sickening really. How they could live with themselves spending someone else’s money.” Siobhan scrunched up her nose and snarled - not in Draco’s defence, he much assumed someone she knew was similar to the stereotypical galleon-chaser. Draco froze on the spot as Harry’s attention turned back to him. What, was he supposed to be surprised at this? Wilks wasn’t the first, doubtful the last. First was Jasmine, then Beatrice, then Dylan -- Wilks was a name in a line of many. A line of many that didn’t matter or care for Draco and in turn cared nothing in return. Some tried to woo him, others Astoria, before Scorpius and after his birth. And when Astoria was gone, those who chanced themselves a soother to a broken heart appeared from the floorboard like woodlice and crawled to Draco as pathetic as each other.“But eventually, he will probably take on someone else, a convenient lover or marry again. It’s inevitable, he’s only human after all. Even if it’s just some hooker at a two Sickle rate. I’m surprised I haven’t heard him drunk off his face. That’s what a lot of people do when they’re hurting.”That’s when Draco flinched. Not at the reality of how some people only cared about his Vault or net worth. No, the idea it was only a matter of time before he’d succumb to the Wilks of the world and be duped was the worst. Because when Astoria was no longer on this plane of existence, Draco didn’t feel anything for anyone. Nothing that would ignite any sort of passion or love - everyone was a second cousin, related in some way but unknown. No one, ever, made him so much as want to fuss over them or Merlin forbid it - shag them. Lonely didn’t sound off but it didn’t sound right either.Now, Draco just had to leave. And leave he did, out of the giant windows. Transforming back outside the Manor’s influence, just so Harry couldn’t tell. After all, if as an owl the Manor did not recognise him as a member that it should listen to, it was doubtful he was shown to Harry, a member of the wards, where he was. Draco didn’t say a word, not after a full week of Siobhan trying once again to extract more galleons for her work. Or the second week where Harry’s walking was less newborn animal and more clumsy toddler when he walked too far. Potter was now a resident it seemed here, the guestroom renamed Harry’s Room in Draco’s head, even if he never referenced it to anyone else.Lotty enjoyed his company as Potter was the only one to compliment her attempts at cooking grander and grander meals. Three adults and a house elf did not need five courses every meal. She was keen for praise and Draco didn’t have the heart to give her his own thoughts on the food. He thought it normal, though clearly was above parr by most others’ standards. Potter lacked all table manners, all elbows on tables and scrapping soup spoon on the bottom of the bowl. But Lotty was transfixed and never uttered a complaint. Siobhan rarely ate with Draco and he supposed the times he did not see her, she was resting or resupplying. Galleons were paid in full and she was more pleasant for a time after payday. The usual disappearance of Potter and Siobhan occurred every few days. Draco had no intention of listening in again. Secrets were one thing, unforgivable maybe to those whose dalliances were with equals more than not. Draco Malfoy had no equal. His name worth mud, his wealth unwelcomed by those who thought themselves superior. Even Potter’s word hadn’t done much to alleviate the animosity. Yet Draco was well-known in every circle which mattered and expectations were made, either because of that infamy or because he was Draco Malfoy. And somehow despite it all, Harry and Draco went to Diagon Alley. They’d Floo’ed to the Leaky Cauldron, Harry still bumping into Draco as they moved through the crowds. Since Harry wasn’t too steady on his feet, Draco ignored it but it didn’t stop. “It might be best for me to stay outside, go make good on your promise.” Draco didn’t want to show his face to the apothecary who’d seen him dishevelled and in his nightclothes. Harry did not need any more ammunition to throw his way. So, he stood, quiet and invisible to the passing crowds outside. It was nice, these days to watch people move around and disregard him out of their own busy lives than those days his hair made his presence known in a way, he was sure Potter’s scar did.What he saw, the children going to Hogwarts eager and giggling over their familiars, two women chatting while their children ran into the Weasley’s store, a couple talking near the Leaky Cauldron and looking mighty annoyed. And then Draco saw the curly blonde hair and the too straight a nose and that almost permanent smirk. Draco cursed under his breath as he looked away.Bloody Anthony Wilks was here. No way had Wilks not noticed him, he’d seen that damned grin and Draco sighed. This was a terrible morning already with his soup being too salty and Lotty sobbing in fervent apologies. Dragging Harry out anywhere was not an easy task. For one, the man didn’t seem to like anywhere in particular, each place Siobhan suggested he’d shot down and any Draco suggested he wasn’t familiar. So, Diagon Alley wasn’t the best place for Harry Potter, ill and weary. Potter was going stir crazy and even Lotty’s reinventing the menu every few days held little appeal. Wilks grinned, sided up to him and purred, “Draco, why I didn’t think Diagon Alley was within your purview much these days.” “Is there something you want, Wilks?” Draco glanced back to the apothecary and was torn on wanting Harry to hurry up so he could leave and also hoping he wouldn’t reappear until Wilks left. He didn’t want Potter of all people to see some young guy wanting to be bought and treated like a mistress. Anthony was a rare two inches taller than Draco. He hated it. Having to look up to a man who all Draco wanted was to look down on him. The smirk was insufferable too. “We could grab some Firewhiskey and I could tell you all about it.”And the arrogance. “Not happening.”Wilks ran a hand through his hair in a dramatic fashion that did not ease the worry Wilks wouldn’t leave. What if he followed Draco everywhere? What if he decided to question why Harry Potter was running around Diagon Alley with Draco Malfoy. Tread carefully.“The word is you need some votes, I could persuade a few more into whichever side you need.” Wilks loomed over him and Draco struggled not to roll his eyes at the bait. He knew the people Wilks might refer to - other older gentleman with more money and another bored housewife. Together they’d count for three votes, which could easily make or break the current count for Hermione’s legislation.“And what am I supposed to do for three measly votes?” Draco was listening, if on guard. Hermione might sway those with logic and fairness, though very few of the Twenty Eight actually wished for the latter when dealing with anyone else other than the pureblooded families. “Nothing egregious, promise.” The leer said he was lying.“I don’t believe you.” Draco wasn’t sure how much sway a paid lover could hold over someone else’s political vote. He didn’t think it much. “Wait a second.” Wilks grabbed his upper arm and for once, the blasé act dropped. “I’m not exactly being subtle here. I deserve a chance.” If the Fates enjoyed Draco’s misfortune, they loved adding more and more problems onto the heap. The bell over the apothecary rang. “Draco, can we go quickly - she’s keeps trying to sell me—” Harry was carrying a bag, overflowing with greens and smelly ingredients, Draco even spied another leather pouch and could take a guess at what she’d given Harry for free. It wasn’t mentally possibly to look at him in the face. Not with Wilks crowding over him. Right, Wilks needed to go. Now. He controlled his emotions like every other day he was in the public eye and took a deep breath before unleashing a calm statement seeped in his usual cutting wit. “Wilks, let me be as unsubtle as I can so it settles in that thick skull of yours. You have nothing I want nor need, nothing bores me more than the sound of your voice and nothing pains me more than having my life whittled away each moment you decide to natter on.” Harry snorted and the noise itself made Draco feel a little more prepared for this idiot. He wasn’t overstating anything. He wasn’t rambling. “You’re a Death Eater, how many people are going to give you the time of day?” Maybe Wilks thought himself a gentleman because he was whispering it in his ear, so Harry couldn’t hear it.“I’ll take my chances.” Draco yanked his arm back and scowled at the height difference, it bugged him, terribly. And Wilks, whatever kindness he considered before was dead too as he sneered back in a way that was Slytherin Common Room Embarrassment Defences.“Come find me whenever that cold bed of yours needs some warming.” Audiences and acquaintances made every mistake, every flaw and embarrassment seem worse. Anthony spoke in innuendo, crude and outspoken flirtations and cringey pick up lines. Draco experienced each and everything he said several times over, only a few details changing each time. Anthony was not romantic or creative in his wooing. But while every other time Anthony’s words glided over Draco’s head, easily ignored and never provoking or causing discomfort (because Anthony was a gibbon trying to convince people he was a peacock) and as such, looked more ridiculous the more he tried. Right now, he had Harry watching. And Draco wanted to go home and never show his face to Potter ever again.“I’m not desperate.” He felt the need to have that spoken out loud, since Siobhan’s little discussion. Harry was shuffling the bag to another hand, digging around in his robe pockets.“One night and I could change that.“Well, his reputation was always tattered near the anniversary of the War, or rather, the Fall of Hogwarts. Most days, Draco would have worked himself up to yell at Wilks. Now, with Harry shifting, looking for a wand he would never find - Siobhan had taken it off him, urging Draco for him not to cast any magic - well, Wilks was like everyone else. They fed on rumour, knew only what the papers and gossips spoke about. Nothing about him, nothing about how Draco would prefer to sit in a quiet room and read or brew potions but how he enjoyed the presence of another person to the point that he usually had Lotty sit nearby. So, let’s give the people what they knew, what the wanted. Draco sneered back, his own Slytherin face of Winning the Argument brand and made sure to get into Wilks face, “I’m a Death Eater. Unless you take the Dark Mark, no can do.”It was visceral and instantaneous. Wilks shoved him away, disgust and revolution on his face. It was weird to have a guy shorter than both of them stand in the middle and try to keep the peace. Harry didn't sound like he wanted to keep himself from casting curses. “Back off, leave him alone. You started this.” Harry was in no shape to fight anyone, physically or magically. Thankfully, flirting with a Death Eater made most people flee in case someone else saw and pointed it out. “Fuck off. Both of you.” Wilks stalked away. Right. Because Draco was so serious about it. But Wilks believed it, no doubt about it. No doubt that the mistake Draco made when he was a kid was still fucking following him. Branded forever, despite the scars silver and barely recognisable, it only took a word for the world to remember. Remember how he’d fucked up and let Hogwarts be overrun - his home away from home - and all in a name he didn’t believe in. And he stood there, rejection never stung these days and he shut up his emotions as fast as he could. An easy way to stop tear ducts was to push his tongue to the roof of his mouth until it hurt.Harry’s hand was so warm when it grabbed at his, jerking him out of the thought that this was all his life would entail. Lying and bluffing his way around every social interaction. Harry started moving through the noon crowds - those who required to pick someone or something up as a last minute or forgotten chore. Draco was squeezing by people and he couldn’t take it. Everyone was going to see this and--“What are you doing—!? Potter, everyone—” Harry couldn’t see the people, staring, disgusted and waiting for their chance to say something. They’d spit at him if given the opportunity. In panic, Draco tried to slacken his grip, not flail because that would make a scene - but let his hand be limp enough to pull back in one motion. Harry kept his fingers in such a vice grip, Draco believed him furious. “No one’s looking. Come on,” Harry called back, pushed by an older couple and Draco was forced to follow, he only managed to utter an apology before he noticed, they hadn’t bothered to turn around and admonish him for it.It was then, Draco looked. Not in his mind’s eye of everyone turning stopping what they were doing, staring, watching and judging. The women were still chatting away, kids at their sides showing off their new toys, the couple weren’t there anymore and the tides of people - no one caught his eye. People were just going about their business. And when Draco saw Wilks again, he gripped Harry’s hand tight enough that maybe, just maybe, the paranoia would pass him. They pushed by everyone, Harry keeping his head down and charging forward, his bag of forced free goods held like a shield to plough through everyone and Draco being pulled along. If he let go, Draco would apparate back to his house because he wasn't sure he had anywhere else to go. “Where are we going—?” Draco asked, but shut his mouth when he felt the frog in his throat and heard his voice wobble. What had Harry even seen? Had he believed his lies too? He didn’t mean it. (He hated the Dark Mark, second only to Voldemort itself).
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Draco was always told he had cold hands, regardless of the temperature, no matter the blistering summers or the adrenaline after a game of Quidditch. His hands remained cold and they pinched and hurt whenever near cold themselves. Snow was the worst second only to metal, a cauldron left over night in the laboratory. He and Astoria never really held hands, hers uncomfortably cool too, she was happier to cling onto his arm.Walking hand-in-hand with Harry down Diagon Alley was bizarre. For once, it was easier ignoring the urge to apparate away, trying not to walk up Harry’s heels or lag behind too far that his arm was pulled back. Harry wasn’t heading towards anywhere Draco was accustomed. Diagon Alley and the rare visit to Knockturn Alley was all he visited. As the crowds thinned, and some people did glance their way but whether it was Harry’s fast pace or Draco’s showing indifference no one stopped them. No one flashed a blinding camera bulb or pointed and asked what was going on.Draco had no idea. Even as Harry started to slip into alleyways and onto other streets, these not much to look at with covered over windows and smashed glass crunching under their shoes. And Draco at times, wanted to drop his hand again because every now and then his other hand - his wedding ring nipped in outrage on his skin - and Draco didn’t know why Harry was still holding his hand. Surely to pull him away from the crowds, but now, Draco hadn’t seen another person in five minutes and still Harry on he went.That’s when Draco started to worry, Harry hadn’t sat down in a while. Back at the Manor, Harry managed twenty to thirty minutes on his feet before starting to wobble and shake. Siobhan said it was normal, his body was used to so much magic surrounding him and the infection had made him weak. His magic was returning and in equal measure as was his mobility and spellcasting. Wasn’t this too much? Wasn’t this near that thirty minute deadline?So, he kept checking, glancing at the hand grasping in a grip nearly too tight - but bearable. He wasn’t limping and physically the only difference was Potter marching with his head downcast, his shoulders a little higher as if trying to protect his neck. When they rounded yet another corner, another alleyway inside an alleyway, Draco managed a glimpse at Harry’s face. He was flushed, the bag in his arms lopping to one side. The only warning Draco had was Harry’s hand went slack and Harry swayed on his feet before falling and Draco’s stomach dropped with him. Thankfully, he had the clarity to fall backwards and not towards the brickwork or corners of the ghastly houses and shops. Frantically checking to see if Harry was even still conscious - and how Draco would explain him in a rough part of town with an unconscious Harry, he hadn’t a clue - and Harry’s eyes were bleary and Draco eased him to the ground for a moment. The bag’s contents were forgotten as they spilled onto the street. “I’ve got you,” Draco soothed him in the only way he knew. Telling Astoria she was fine was a surefire way to have her not fine. So, he just reaffirmed he was there - close at hand and ready to help. He set about checking that he wasn’t going to drop dead any second, was he still breathing? Yes. Was there blood anywhere? No. But Harry started to pull himself back up, trying to use him and the wall behind him as leverage and Draco was livid at the attempts to use him as climbing apparatus. “Do you even know what the word restraint means?” Draco caught his arm hoping Harry wouldn’t fall back and smash his head bloody. “Help me up, we’re almost there.” Harry struggled again, Draco relenting only a fraction to allow Potter to stand - no way was he marching off again - and he stood with Potter awkward as it was shuffling to his feet and trying to hold himself up with his hands and arms shaking on Draco’s shoulders, Draco’s robe crinkled and bunched under Potter’s hands - bloody Merlin. What even was today?Draco looked away. It wasn’t really right to have the Saviour of - well his own family look so weak and clinging onto him. And he most certainly wasn’t talking about what happened with Wilks or why he’d allowed Harry to hold his hand for so long. “Where?” he asked, wanting to distance himself from how heavy and weighty Harry was despite being shorter. “Just a place.”“Well thank you, that’s very helpful.” Draco scowled, his wand was in his robes, and he was not able to use wandless levitation magic. Right. Doing tasks the Muggle way was always such a chore. “Right then, let’s hurry this up.” Scanning around the ghastly and unmaintained buildings, Harry’s ‘almost there’ might be down another street. They had to shift, more for ease of movement than comfort and Draco ended up with a near dead weight to drag over to the building Harry pointed towards. The windows were boarded up, the tiny garden in its front porch was overgrown and high enough to brush at Draco’s knees. A stink of smoke, something long burnt clung in the air and Draco heaved Harry up with his arm, which was around his neck. It hurt. His muscles cramping and aching at the sudden task.As soon as Harry stepped onto the landing, the door which sat off its hinges with rot lit up. White and clean and the rest of the doorway took on a new, more appealing atmosphere. It reminded Draco of the foyer of the Ministry, a polished floor of marble and bright clear lighting overhead. The door opened inwards, a small mercy and they hobbled inside, Harry’s strength waning again and Draco tried to tug him back to his feet as he drooped. “On the couch.”So, Draco did, sidestepping in between the coffee table and the armchair set and Harry curled onto his side. He could hear his breathing and Draco calmed down from the panic someone might have seen and took advantage. Over him or over Potter, it didn’t matter much. Unbecoming of a Malfoy or not, Draco sat on the low setting table, the possibility Harry needed medical attention not leaving his thoughts. Siobhan should still be at the Manor. Harry’s breathing took a few minutes to level out and Draco was ready, just in case. When Harry tried to sit up, Draco scowled, “Do you know how to do nothing?” Not having the energy to argue, Harry stop trying and lay staring at the ceiling.This was a little… Draco’s leg bounced on a nerve, and he twirled his wedding ring on his finger.Awkward.Why couldn’t Harry have just told him to follow him instead of-- Draco rotated his wedding ring around his finger again-- maybe he had. Draco was sure he hadn’t heard Harry say a word. Maybe. Not so sure, then. Holding his hand was a last resort. And Harry, well, he probably held anyone’s hand. Unlike Draco. Just another difference between them. “You really do wear your wedding ring all the time,” Harry said and ended up groaning, his fingers rubbing his temples. His wedding ring was still on too.“What, trouble in paradise?” Draco snorted, he didn’t like the attention some people gave him over his still worn wedding ring. To him, it was an absurd concept. He shouldn’t wear it because his wife was dead. But he still loved her, still thought of her as his wife no matter how long she’d lay buried. In a loud and dramatic sigh, Harry threw his hands down. For a moment, Draco thought Harry about to tantrum and yell. He stayed quiet and sullen and Draco barely heard his reply. “Hasn’t been paradise for a long time.”Right. Different houses. They lived in different houses. That was insensitive more so than the ring comment. “Sorry,” Draco said and left it to hang in the air without anything further to add. Harry was starting to feel better. His eyes were starting to see again - no longer those sightless dull eyes that Harry fought to keep from closing. And after another few minutes of him blinking, rolling onto his side Harry broke the silence. “It’s an out of commission safe house.” Harry lay on his back. Draco glanced back to the entrance, he shouldn’t be here then. Most definitely not. The mental image of Aurors by the dozens bursting into the room wouldn’t leave his head. Squirming on the couch, Harry was never very good at staying still for very long. “Either it was less pay for the department or this place gets sold. So I bought it up and everyone kept their bonuses.”“You own it?” Was Potter in the property game? The home Ginny lived, that hovel, this place and Grimmauld Place (a fact which made his mother both bitter and eager to never see Harry Potter again despite his help). From what he’d heard, his aunt Andromeda was seen as the house’s Lady now.“Didn’t seem fair. I used this place once. Once. And the higher ups opened it as a safe house because I thought it was a good place. No one else needed it. In a decade, no one else needed it.” Harry laughed, rubbed his face, then his eyes, “First mistake I made and I had to fix it decades later.” Then he tried to slink off the couch where Draco had deposited him. Harry turned over, trying to slip down onto the floor in a motion not fit for anyone to make. What did he think he was doing? Harry waved off his concern as he asked.“I’m fine,” Harry said, “It’s a blood pressure deal, nothing too--”“Don’t finish that sentence.” Draco was well aware that blood pressure wasn’t a tiny detail. Too low and people’d bleed from every orifice and die. Astoria fainted more often than not on hot days, when her blood curse made it difficult to breathe and cool down. Harry didn’t finish the sentence but sat up, no longer able to keep still. It took all of Draco’s years of keeping everything in not to flinch when Harry bumped his knee as he sat up properly.He closed his eyes, sighed and waited. Patience wasn’t a fun virtue, but it was one Draco held in abundance. Just like how Draco was quite good at ignoring what was going on around him. “Siobhan doesn’t like me drinking near her so I’ve not had one in a while.” It was a poor attempt at conversation and Draco didn’t bother to open his eyes or reply. Harry bumped his knee again and this time it didn’t feel like a mistake. Maybe he was reading too much into things. Clearing his throat Harry kept talking, “There should still be some Firewhiskey in the walls. I hid them there - long story.”“Please just rest for now.” Draco didn’t snap as much as he wanted. Astoria was never very good at staying in bed and being ill either. Most of the time she did stay, Draco had to ask it as a favour to him and not to her own health. It was infuriating to have to play this game again. It was tiring, draining, caring for someone else so much. Resting his cheek on his hand, he added, “You just had to pick a fight.”“Wilks shouldn’t have--”Oh, just stop.“It’s exhausting watching you act like you aren’t ill.” At least Astoria knew her upper most limits, knew when to excuse herself and rest nearer the end of her life but Harry just kept going and going and Draco had to watch him fall today. Harry Potter falling on the ground because he was too sick to go too long on his feet. Why didn’t Harry keep care of himself more? Sighing, Draco pulled his wand and cast, “Accio Firewhiskey.” If not for Potter he’d be having a good day.Leaping out of the wall, a pack flew and sat next to Draco. It was an old case of Firewhiskey, some out of date promotion about catching a novelty snitch on the packaging. Six bottles and Draco still didn’t know if this was the wisest of decisions but today was-- too much, really. Wilks dug at an old wound that would most likely never heal. Harry didn’t so much as twitch at the taste but as soon as Draco sipped it he might have murdered some taste buds in the process. “This is an affront to taste.” Not even good taste, just taste because this FireWhiskey was just fire, burning everything it touched an leaving it raw and tingling. “You don’t drink because of the taste, it’s for the warm fuzzies.”“I gathered that.” Another few sips had the standard warmth emanating from his gut and then his head was light and fuzzy and Draco found the burn not as harsh by the seventh attempt at drinking this foulness. “This might be the worst thing I’ve ever consumed.” Draco scowled at the bottle for the bite of the drink it carried. “Well, I’m apparently a connoisseur of dragonblood so forgive me if I don’t feel much pity. By the way, why an owl?”No, no, Potter. Did he not understand the rules? They would not discuss it. Ever. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Draco gulped more down and Harry didn’t argue. If he wanted to ask stupid questions then so would Draco.“If you and Ginny are so unhappy why don’t you--”Divorce was never an option for Draco, for Astoria. For Pansy or Nott. It rose a flag, high, to everyone else that not only did their very spouse find them unworthy but also unlovable enough to leave. Harry could leave Ginny but Draco wasn’t naive enough to think the papers and the people who read those papers wouldn’t take a side. Harry stared at his wedding ring for so long Draco considered the topic closed and out of bounds for the future. “It’s for Lily. She’s just finishing up Hogwarts. We don’t want her to have to deal with any… publicity. She can just concentrate on her studies.”“And after?”“Nothing would really change. We don’t even sleep in the same house. Kids are all old enough to move on and do their own thing.” Harry gave a wistful sigh, “When did we get so old.”“Speak for yourself,” Draco snorted, took another swig of this disgusting beverage. Looking around again he saw the three doors off to other areas of the house - who knew how big this place was - and the Floo hidden off in the corner. It wasn’t decorated by Harry; he’d seen that hovel of a place. The second bottle made Draco’s hands feel warm so much so he wrung them together, the bottle resting on the table alongside him. Harry was looking at him again, in a way he wasn’t entirely sure he was used to. In Hogwarts they sneered and prodded each other over trivial little things, what the other was eating or going to do - or any rumours abound. This was more… More more.Intense, that was the word he was looking for but Draco kept chatting. Even Harry asked some bizarre questions. Like if his Dark Mark was still there and Draco had shown him his arm. His pale complexion was a gift at hiding the silver line, where Voldemort and ripped through with his wand. Once or two Harry rubbed at his neck, and once or twice Draco thought Harry nervous but unsure why. Maybe he realised asking about the worst time in Draco’s life - second only to Astoria’s death - wasn’t the best conversation pieces. The FireWhiskey made it easy to ignore Harry and his constant nudging of his legs, though Draco assumed his own lanky frame wasn’t helping matters. Harry started asking about crups and Draco kept his guard up. Why did he need to know what his favourite colour was? He wouldn’t be able to gift him the damned thing anyway, that’s why no one could just go out and buy one. They weren’t cats, Draco had scolded him again. They were magical creatures that were the epitome of what Draco had been raised in. All in all, Draco only managed to let slip one embarrassing fact. He didn’t care what the crup looked like, they were all (‘cute’) good enough.“Why do you keep staring at me?”“Oh, sorry.” His gaze dropped to his bottle, the label in the midst of being scratched off, “It’s just-- funny, stupid really. So you know you gave every Weasley hell - Ron and Ginny especially - because they had red hair and freckles? You have a freckle on your face.”“I most certainly do not.”“I’ll prove it.” Harry was invigorated, happy to prove him wrong. He patted down his pockets until he found whatever it was he was looking for. A small rectangle box made of the non-glass that Muggles seemed fond of and Draco leaned forward to see the box light up - little pictures on it in small squares. It was another Muggle thing wasn’t it? What was with the fascination of rectangles and squares to Muggles? Was it some sort of iconography? Why must everything be a box?“What is that?” Harry tried his best not to sound patronising to Draco over what this mobile phone was. But Draco wasn’t really sure he understood. He could take ‘calls’, Draco assumed like a Fire Call, and these text messages sounded more like a series of Howlers than anything else. “Close your eyes.” Draco blinked. What? “Just for a second.” Not trusting the Muggle contraption fully, Draco closed his eyes with a sulk. “Stop scowling for a second.” Draco opened his eyes as soon as he heard a noise. “See?”It was alarming to see himself in a picture that wasn’t moving. Draco was offered the device and he took hold of it with little understanding of why Harry was laughing. Then he saw it. “I don’t know what kind of illusion charm you’ve placed on this - whatever this is - but no.” Draco frowned deeply, the picture needed no large bulbous camera that blinded and yet here was a clear picture of him in his own hands. Muggles were terrifying in their innovation. How did the picture not move? Why wasn’t it moving? And just like Harry had said, there sat a single freckle on his eyelid. Taunting him.Well, how would Draco ever know he had a freckle there. How many people knew what their eyelids looked like? How their friends or family member’s eyelids looked like? Draco sulked but when Harry spoke again he was cautious and…“No?”Oh.Oh, he thought Draco was going to have an existential crisis over this. His family name mud and everything he’d ever been told a lie - that was worth a crisis at the tender age of seventeen to twenty. A freckle was nothing and Potter was watching him as if Draco was going to need all these bottles of FireWhiskey to process it. He was dramatic, yes. But not Blaise-level dramatic. Draco had standards. “No.” Draco sniffed, all put on of course. He may as well play a bit, considering Potter was due some revenge on how poor a patient he was and how frayed Draco’s nerves were these days thanks to him. “If I kill you here no one will be the wiser.”Harry pocketed the phone fast and gave a nervous glance to the Floo in the corner of the room. “So, you’re not taking this very well?”“I’m supposed to be the epitome of Malfoy heritage. That does not include-- freckles.” “It’s just the one?” The attempt to placate him almost killed Draco’s momentum because Harry was quite frankly a bloody idiot to look so worried over another person worrying over a bloody freckle. Whether it was the FireWhiskey or Harry’s lack of awareness, Draco fought to keep his face straight and his voice furious. “A disaster is what it is. How can I possibly live with this - this?” “You’re--” Draco couldn’t do it any longer. To hold back the laughter, a bubbling aching laughter that cramped at his stomach and his face and Harry slumped forward, another battering of knees together and he heard him sigh in such relief that he laughed too, “I thought you were being serious.” He hid behind his hands again, embarrassed and giddy.“And here I thought I was going to have to swear myself banished from my inheritance before you clued in.” Draco grinned as he took a victory sip of his FireWhiskey and Harry sat up to do the same, “Slow, Potter, very slow.” And Draco glanced over to the Floo, only to look back and see it. Fast and fleeting and yet replaying in his head clear as if he’d seen the memory in a pensive Draco saw it. Saw how Harry’s eyes went from green, bright and looking at him, to darting down, darkening green eyes and he’d--Draco knew that look. Pansy and Astoria gave him that look. Wilks had given him that look.Harry had just thought about kissing him. Harry’s eyes were darker than he’d ever seen them and his stomach flipped and Draco moved.“The Floo still work?” Draco left his makeshift seat fast. He hadn’t seen that. Nope, no, not a chance had Harry’s brain even suggested the idea about snogging him. It was a lighting trick- despite the lights being full and bright - or an alcohol trick that was why his eyes were so dark - which didn’t explain the fact he’d looked at Draco’s mouth. The urn of Floo powder was nearly out.“Hm? Oh, yeah, pretty sure.”How was he supposed to deal with this? Harry was not Wilks or Jasmine, only after his galleons. No, Harry would never dehumanise someone to such an extent. So, so did that mean-- what, Harry wanted Draco because he was him? Now, he was concerned. What had Harry seen or heard that made him interested?He loved Astoria.So, Draco took his time letting the sand drain out from between his fingers and hoped the thundering heat on his face would go. He couldn’t process this. He couldn’t-- Was this why Ginny and Harry were no longer in the same house? Did she know? Was this cheating? Did it count if they weren't interested in reconciling? Or was Harry just-- Draco bit his lip quelling the thoughts for a second.“If you can walk, we can go back.” Harry didn’t answer right away and Draco didn’t turn around because he could feel it again, Potter’s Gaze and the prickling hairs at his neck. People weren't interested in Draco, they were interested in Malfoy. Nothing from any previous encounters of those who had flirted and made their intentions clear ever made this make sense. Where was Harry's endless sea of compliments and ego-bolstering comments, or boasting about feats that Draco thought bogus? Where was the questions about his money? Why had Harry asked about the Mark instead, like everyone else, ignoring it as if it was the dirty secret they would allow him? Where was his nattering that begged to be liked and happy to side only as a substitute to his dead wife?Was Harry Potter serious?How long? How long had he missed this? How long had Potter even--?“Okay, let’s go.” Harry staggered and this time, Draco made no attempt to help as they stood in the Floo. Draco clenched tight onto a fistful of Floo powder.Again, Harry bumped his shoulder into him. Now, reassessing, Draco looked down at Harry’s shoes, watched him in his peripheral view and saw no swaying or lack of balance. So he was doing this all on purpose? Since when? Had Harry genuinely been thinking--Draco released the power in his hands and spoke, “Malfoy Manor.” He abandoned Harry at the Floo, needing time to think. At which point had Harry thought about kissing him? Was this just a misunderstanding? No, Draco knew that look, knew it well enough to recognise it but-- But that meant--Lotty informed him of two letters waiting for him in the Owlery. Good. A reason to flee.The letter had Hermione’s stamp, official mail from the Minister herself. Draco read it where he stood. That was before hearing Harry calling his name and so he left to the sitting room. ‘Draco,
I need you to find a venue which can hold the annual Association for Overlooked Justice, Rembrandt has been ‘unfortunate’ in his help to locate one within the time frame and no doubt will be of no help in any means worthy. For one evening and possibly into the night. In a week today. Formal event. Sorry for the short notice but I suspect this is another ploy to make me look incompetent.
PS: How is your guest? I hope he is doing better. Sadly this setback has had a domino effect on my time. Tell him hi for me.’Draco set it aside and checked the other, its sender clear. Parchment was dyed and frilled near its edges, a trend outdated but one Daphne had never outgrown. Daphne’s was short. One word: ‘Tomorrow’, written in her swirly handwriting that was also too small for some to read. A few places might suit Hermione’s needs. But only one suited Draco’s. Here. Many tales of torture and pain were told about the Malfoy Manor and while he had no intention to make Hermione walk over the floor she was tortured on. Although he would bet the garden with its fancy peacocks and mazes and the ballroom which was large enough to host many hundreds of dancing wizards and witches would do more than a prim empty office somewhere else. It might also lay to rest some of the rumours about how the Manor was evil in itself. Not many people realised the place was beautiful in its architecture and atmosphere. These days it didn’t have Voldemort etching his Dark Magic into the wood and bricks, turning the house sick with a cruel streak. No, if Hermione wanted somewhere he would happily give her another. The request was obvious in who it would favour. So he wrote slow, wondering if it was unfair to ask Hermione to give him more leeway, more public support. ‘If acceptable, you can have the Manor for the allotted time. The gardens along with the adjacent ballroom should wow your Justice piffle that thinks so little of you. Lotty will cook and make the place in whatever presentable terms you have but will not greet guests. Do find someone more hospitable than either of us to do that job.’Draco wouldn’t accept this either. He heard Harry before he saw him. In a last ditch attempt at harbouring more reputation, more positive than most, he added at the end:‘Having it here will also allow him to make an appearance with no need to worry. If he doesn’t attend then it might send the wrong message. Siobhan Goven, the Healer will low-key attend and make sure he doesn’t push his limits and will remove him to his room when he is tired or has had enough. If unacceptable, I will find somewhere else.’Closing it up and handing the letter to the Ministry owl, overworked and underappreciated, Draco watched it fly off on beige wings. He waited for a reply in his now perfectly filled sitting room, reassembled from the shreds and destruction of Potter’s magic. Lotty had done another wonderful job and Draco wasn’t sure he thanked her for it. She was not so great at taking compliments or gratitude from anyone much less the family she was working for. Draco moved around to avoid Harry. Siobhan noticed and made a comment which Draco ignored by then avoiding her for the rest of the day.What exactly was he supposed to do with the information Harry might want to get off with him right there and then in a house no one knew existed. Why? How? Draco hadn’t heard Harry being interested in men. Only the names of girls back in Hogwarts made their way through the gossip mills and managed to be overheard by a Slytherin. What was more likely was Harry had mistaken Draco’s care for romantic affection. Healers had a great deal of trouble, Draco had heard. About those wizards and witches that were smitten at the idea of a Healer using physical contact - leviosa not a viable option - and how they were mistaken. It was not in any manner affectionate. But smitten they were. Harry was mistaken. Why hadn’t Siobhan been the target of this then? She was the primary carer here, not Draco. He’d ask Harry later in the week to attend. With Ginny included in the invitation. Losing a wife wasn’t worth whatever little… fleeting fancy Potter seemed to have tricked himself into. Seeing Ginny again all dolled up might help remind him he didn’t need to divorce her. He was just confused.Speaking of clothing, he wasn’t sure he even had anything that would fit without extensive work. Too old, last season, he might need to venture out and buy another suit. Did Harry have one? Best ask sooner then, so as not to blindside him and Draco's plan ruined before it was out the planning stages. Harry was with Siobhan and the owls and there it sat again, the stressed Ministry owl. He ignored the hello from Harry, the greetings from Siobhan and stalked off with the letter unopened. They both knew what a Ministry seal looked like and neither had yet to ask - they would eventually. Whatever Hermione sent was more than words, as the letter was heavy and Draco could hear something move inside it.Pray she hadn’t put a jinx on this. He was pretty sure Edgecombe still wore a face of scars for her betrayal back in Hogwarts. What was inside wasn’t a vicious curse but a series of cards. Blue like the colour of a bright afternoon sky, silver that was brighter than Draco’s eyes and a darker grey that lacked much appeal. On the flip-side of each was a word or two. ‘Very well. The garden and the ballroom only. The colour scheme is enclosed. 50 guests but I expect most will bring plus-ones. Thank you that’s a good idea. Don’t use him as a bargaining chip again.’Hermione had really mastered the art of sounding threatening without being here. He smirked, knowing if he was too upbeat he'd be questioned on it. Right, he would have to find Lotty and Harry. Harry first. This would be the easiest and smoothest way to segway into the invitation for Harry to invite his wife. Both of them were still with the owls - most which had left to hunt. The little pygmy owl was nuzzling into his hands and being fed. Siobhan was looking out the window, arms crossed. “Hermione says hello.” Draco started and was a little thrown when Harry looked at him as if he’d grown another head. “You--” Harry looked him up and down.Right. Forget talking to Harry. “You're very cheery today, Mr. Malfoy, a notable, pleasant change.” Siobhan supplied in a more eloquent manner with a smile. Well, it made sense Draco was pleased. He hadn't had a party here in forever. He loved them before the War and hadn't had the opportunity to host since his wedding reception.“Lotty!” The elf appeared and Draco squatted down to look at her, ignoring Potter entirely. “Do you remember when you were told no more parties? No more batches of food? No more making pretty?” Lotty sulked and pulled on her ears, she probably suspected she was going to be given into trouble. “Yes, Master Malfoy. Lotty remembers.” “Well, take these and do make the Manor look pretty for our fifty-something guests. Might even be a hundred here. It’s the ballroom and the garden only, so no entries everywhere else. Human fancy, like the old times.”Lotty looked up at him, eyes popping and she squealed, “Guests? In the Manor? A party? Lotty gets to make a party again?” “Can you do that?” Draco offered the coloured cards and waited. She snatched them away faster than a man could blink and clung onto them, tight into her chest as if they were the most precious things in the world.“Yes, yes, Lotty will make everyone jealous of the Malfoy Manor!”“Can’t wait. You've a week to do your absolute best.” He always did like Lotty’s enthusiasm. She left, humming loudly to herself. “There’s going to be a party? Here?” Harry sounded just a little panicked at that. Draco wasn’t sure why, it wasn’t as if it would be difficult to hide Harry once he was too tired. “Yes, send a letter to Ginny. You’ll both need formal attire.” He moved on fast, hoping to have as little contact with Harry as possible until after the party. So, Siobhan was next. “I expect you to attend too. Paid extra if you manage to keep the reason why you’re here out of the air.” He offered her galleons, as he expected the Healer had used more funds to just purchase new ingredients. She took them, though seemed a little annoyed at the ten galleons he'd fished from his pocket.“Isn’t the party in a week?” Harry shifted around, anxious and maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned Ginny. “You’ve never hosted one in your life, have you?”While his mother and father hosted, months in advance with guest lists finely tuned for tastes and likes to coo and schmooze Draco was scarcely unprepared. First he’d need to visit the tailor, most of his old robes were too large. Then a letter again to Hermione asking for the names and everything she had on them. A party was a time to relax and drink, chat and flirt. Not these monstrous events, where Draco would need to greet everyone and not having an edge to chit-chat would make him an awkward and lousy host. He needed to make sure everyone was at ease long enough for Hermione to say her piece. People at ease in Malfoy Manor with Draco Malfoy. He could do it. Weirder things had happened. Draco glanced back at Harry who was pouting and he hadn't a clue how to handle the possibility Harry Potter wanted - what, a fling? A quick snog because he was lonely because his wife wasn't on best terms? He didn't get it. Today though, he'd spend the rest of it set about avoiding Harry and hiding the Dark Artefacts away just in case.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Goblins never did apologise or speak about their absence in the War with Voldemort. They were called out but when permission for Vaults were declined, people stopped bringing it up. Draco on the other hand knew how to treat a goblin, his father had one thing right about his view and that was they liked money. Not just handling it but earning it in as efficient way as possible and as a Wizard who had more than enough money, his tailor was a goblin which greeted him nicer than any other Witch or Wizard did most days. “Draco Malfoy! What can I get you?” Agnar was an old, white-haired, with long bony fingers even by goblin standards. “Evening wear. A rush job, if you will, I’ll happily pay double if it can be done.”If was the key word. Ordering Agnar to make a suit or a robe would put him on the lowest priority. Asking in such a way implied if he said no Draco’s business would go elsewhere. It also might infer there was someone better and Agnar loathed that one more than a late payment.Agnar peered down his long crooked nose for a second before grumbling to himself, “You were a little on the thin side last time, weren’t you? What colour?” The Goblin was probably correct, he usually ate once a day, twice rarely on his own after Astoria was gone. The recent months, with Harry and Siobhan in his home made him feel as if he should thank them. He wasn’t so much skin and bone, eating only to stop the cramps or brain fog that stopped his brewing.“Blue or a dark grey or silver--”“Black it is. Those colours won’t do anything for you.” Black was standard typically only the men wore that colour to parties. He remembered his father using the same suit for years while his mother seemed to appear at each party with a new dress for that occasion. “I’ll have it sent by owl. Make sure to not open the box near those filthy creatures. I wouldn’t think you would, Mr. Malfoy but the people here sometimes.”“Stay still for the fitting,” said Agnar in his typical gruff voice while he pulled out his wand.A lot of flying measuring tapes and automagical quills writing down the length and breadth and at last, Agnar waved him to go. “I have what I need from you, Mr Malfoy. Not quite the skeleton these days. Still a little too thin. Do return the owl with the rest,” he said as Draco put down his deposit - five galleons and left with apparation.His second target was picking up the papers for today, instead of waiting around for Daphne or Blaise to arrive showing off the work the Greengrasses did - he went and picked up one of each. Ignoring the sneer from the older man at the till and the smile from the younger. He went home to read them in private, Harry and Siobhan were taking the day along with Ginny to work out how they could sneak him in and out of the party without people being suspicious. They should also buy their clothing too. They better not think to use some already worn affair to his hosted party.It was quite impressive what Daphne had achieved going by the front page of every newspaper which rivalled the Daily Prophet. His stomach fluttered when he saw The Quibbler too, taking another stance against what they’d written about him and Astoria. Each and every paper, eight in total had first page news, slating the Daily Prophet in some way. From non-specific titles, ‘Paper Defaces Dead Witch’ to, ‘Daphne: the lies of the Prophet’, and ‘Greengrasses victims of gossip’, and The Quibbler itself simply had: ‘Astoria Malfoy Died Beloved’. It was surreal to think so many people came from other families which wanted to stand against the usual nonsense of the Prophet. Finch even seemed to have made an appearance, saying Astoria was the happiest person he’d ever met. They weren’t talking about Draco and for once, he preferred it. Having his name brought up would murk the message. This was nice timing too with only a week - six days now, to the party, it might give some others a change of heart and come along even if it was just to snoop at where Astoria Malfoy lived.He didn’t need the papers any more and left to deal with the biggest issue he would face. People he didn’t know. They’d be here, in his house and he’d have to make them happy and comfortable enough for them to listen and hear what Hermione said. The only way he knew how to do that was what he was taught. A guest list was expected at five, Hermione claiming there were a few problematic people who hadn’t said if they were bringing someone else or not. Then food and decoration was in the hands of a single house elf and as much as Draco trusted Lotty, he was not sure what to suggest for the food portion of the night. Were they having a meal here? A buffet? Several courses and not doing any standing around and chatting? He needed more details while Lotty started to fill the ballroom with long candles and put them high up near the ceiling, And when Hermione’s guest list arrived, it came through the opened Floo. A swarm of files flying on through. They stacked themselves high up on the nearest table; how neat and polite of them. What Hermione had sent was a mass of information on the most prolific organisations. He would need to comb through each the guest list and the organisation member list to have any understanding on those guests who he’d never so much as met once.He didn’t ignore his other responsibilities. While potions boiled and brewed, Draco studied harder than Lotty liked. Agnar might scold him again if he arrived dropping any weight and begrudgingly he nibbled at scones and sipped sweet, sugar filled tea. Harry did not help in that he tried to help.Draco’s avoidance was clear by day three to everyone and so Harry, as much as Draco called him an idiot was imaginative and ever stubborn in his attempts at starting a conversation. Lotty made the meals and Potter brought them. How he’d wrangled Lotty out of one of her duties was a mystery. One which as Draco reread the list on agenda of what the Powerful Potion Prospects Group entailed, he decided he didn’t need to know right this instant.Freshly baked pastry filled the air and Draco resisted the urge to stop what he was doing and look at the divine meal which branded itself into his head and made his mouth water. That was what Harry was expecting, for him to pause in his work and have no excuse. “Lotty said you didn’t take breakfast.”The plates clinked together as the tray was placed down next to the stack of paper. Now in two categories of read and unread. The unread pile was still taller. Draco knew then Harry wouldn’t take silence as an answer as he stood, unmoving and stubborn. “I’m busy, unless you need those eyes checked.” Instead of taking that as a cue to leave, Harry sat down. Draco bit his lip and refused to look up. No, Harry wasn’t winning this. “I can help. It’s not like you have to do this all on your own.” Draco wasn’t prepared for the mockery which erupted from his own throat, “Of course, you can’t possibly rely on the resident Death Eater to check some information. Do you think I’m doing this because I enjoy it? This is a necessity, Potter not homework I can afford to flunk.”“Missing breakfast won’t help.” Harry was frowning, probably expecting his gracious offer to be returned not shot down. Draco didn’t even need to look, not when his voice tightened and it was clear that the dismissal had hurt, if just a little, “Fine. I’ll leave. Just promise to eat—”Draco didn’t want to hear the end of that sentence because he knew it off by heart. And his stomach flipped at the memory.‘Just have a bite,’ she’d say, ‘promise me you’ll get something soon,’ and then Draco would grumble an apology and he’d follow her and eat his fill and Astoria was pleased. Too pleased, sometimes, over Draco just doing what was necessary. Apparently as much as Draco could do a few tasks side by side he did so at the expense of his own health. An obsessive tic that might have followed him through Hogwarts. “Go.” Draco left no room for argument, no squabbling because he was too uncomfortable to contemplate what was running through Harry’s head. Focusing on the party was priority. As Harry left, heavy and downcast Draco stopped working and glared at the divine pastry - fluffy and golden, swirls of heat in the air - and Draco rubbed at his jaw. His concentration ruined. Returning the tray and the food upon it to Lotty would upset her, damned Harry was no doubt aware. Well, he supposed eating wasn’t the victory in itself. Forcing Harry to leave didn’t feel like the usual win but he’d take it. He had no time to brew Harry’s medicine, learn what he needed and consider Harry’s affections. It was all very… Weird. Draco drummed his fingers on the table, glaring at his food. Because Harry and Astoria were too different and yet they’d fallen into the same trap of worrying over his eating habits. Even their temperaments were night and day, sun and moon: Astoria was a woman of great calm, easing the worrisome world surrounding them. Potter trail-blazed into firing lines - not quite literally any more - but he’d done it again and again. All while the most courageous thing Astoria had witnessed him was standing up to his parents and demanding they accept their engagement. Potter had seen him lie, out of omission, that time in the Manor. Draco Malfoy was not a brave man by any means. Harry could not compete with his dead wife and in the same vein, Draco would not compete with Ginny. Draco was sure Potter also still adored Ginny in some way, why else would he look heartbroken at her rushing away, abandoning him? Harry needed a reminder on why Ginny was his wife for so long. Whether it was the crude manner beforehand, Harry never returned with a tray or invited himself to sit down. What he did do was appear and disappear with the aforementioned scones and tea, occasionally, provoking him to eat a bit more and leaving soon after. An apology would set the clock back, Harry would sit and chat if Draco only said sorry. Draco for that reason did not.And on the last day, Harry nowhere in sight Draco found it dangerous his expectations now grew too. No matter how many times Draco heard or felt movement around the Manor - and it told him where roughly everyone was, Lotty in the ballroom and the other two together on the first floor. Draco wondered if he wasn’t going to be brought anything today. The absence was starting to make him wonder. Was one week of avoidance too much for Harry?When the words of the last file was read Draco closed his eyes and covered them with his hands despite the darkness at such a late hour. He wasn’t sure how much of these jitters were because of the lack of sleep and food or because the party was drawing closer. Was he prepared enough? Bloody yes but no matter what he learned, it was entirely depending on the people and their disposition towards his family name. Everyone knew of the Malfoys.Dinnertime was twenty minutes late and Draco scowled the idea Potter gave up so easily. What was he expecting? What did he want? He slumped in his chair not enjoying the looming anxiety over everything not being enough. Sometimes, Draco offered several times the amount anyone was asking and was still rejected. Knowing interests might help a conversation, knowing which agenda someone bought into was better. It helped ease out problematic allies, especially where Hermione was concerned. She didn’t take bribes.If someone decided Draco Malfoy wasn’t enough, well. They were stupid. Idiotic and not worth Draco’s time. Draco sighed, loud on his own with no one else near. Despite it all, he wanted the party to arrive already, have everything checked and double checked so he could stop trying to guess at what would happen, what could go wrong. Only when Draco opened his eyes again did he realise he’d dozed off for a moment. He smelt pastry again. What time was it now? As Draco shifted, he scowled at the garment over him. Not a robe, not nearly anything like a robe. He examined it, the material alien and bizarre - how was this supposed to protect anyone from thunderstorms or rampaging pixies? Folding it, awkward and unknowing what exactly he should do - did he return this? He’d leave it here. The room was darker now, only able to make out the whites and several greys of the room itself, black blots being the door and this Muggle robe-not-robe. On his table sat his dinner, no note, no indication of who it was from and it was clear it was from Harry. Who else would do this? This was a Muggle thing - Siobhan would just cast a charm if so inclined and Lotty wouldn’t have dared put such a flimsy garment over him. He sat in the dark for a time, thinking. Harry hadn’t chosen to awaken him, show off his attentive details and show off his affections. Not like all the Wilks and Jasmines of the world, who Draco was used to bragging about how much they could care. But unlike them, Harry only had reputation and credit to lose. Nothing Draco Malfoy had done in recent years ever said Harry would benefit from it. It sat there, warmed by a charm. One lesson the War brought Draco was he was not to expect affection from others so easily again. Complimenting idiots became the sneering ones, the galleon-chasers were more obvious in their pursuits and Draco hadn’t realised how much he had missed. When was the last time Lotty made him food and kept it warm for him? She’d much more likely recook an entire meal instead of using magic. She’d never do this either. Harry was a little too much like how Draco’s tea had been the last few days. And that’s when it really dawned on him. An avalanche of what ifs: what if Potter had kissed him back then, in his hidden away house, what if Harry didn’t even realise he was doing this; what if Harry really was-- and Draco frowned, awkward at the idea Harry might be more than having a crush on him -- but honestly, did he think Draco would return those affections? What if he did? What if that was when Harry realised he’d been wrong, what if that was when he returned to Ginny.What was he going to do?He wasn't going to think any more on this, on Potter - or what a kiss from him back then would--“Lumos,” Draco whispered and a blinding light spawned on the end of his wand. Another delicious meal, delivered right to his desk. He dragged himself to bed, leaving the Muggle garment behind in the office with the empty plates. That night he had a dream about Astoria again. Visiting Diagon Alley, busier than Draco had ever seen it, and in the confusion Draco tried to find somewhere to stop. Astoria needed a rest as she struggled to stay by his side in the madness. What Draco saw was Potter, standing off to the side talking with Ginny and then her hand was gone from his. Astoria was lost, gone and Draco spent the whole night trying to find her. When he awoke that day, he knew he hadn’t found her even as the dream faded. He blamed Potter for the bittersweet ending of that one. Today, he kept himself in his room. Unable to face Harry just in case he decided to pull a proper confession out of thin air. Draco couldn’t deal with that right now. Lotty had her orders, a buffet and the list of available foods had already been delivered. Hermione must have a reason to serve some old toffee as an option. All Draco could guess is it was someone’s favourite. Someone Hermione needed to be in a good mood. Agnar sent the owl and Lotty delivered the package straight to him.“Mister Harry Potter wanted to give you it but this is Lotty’s job,” she’d snapped and Draco didn’t try to soothe her. He was too preoccupied. Did this still fit well? Had he accidentally self-sabotaged himself in his effort for everything to be perfect? And just like that, it was time for the party. Two hours to go and Draco started to put himself more solidly together, hoping to give the impression he was always dressed so formally and well. He did, but formal attire was a bore for most and had stringent rules to follow. No double buttons, no zips, nothing too gauche.Draco fixed the collar, he couldn’t find fault in Agnar’s ability despite being as old as the Manor itself. He wasn’t a family friend, really, more akin to allowing people pay him double for speed. The Goblin had a chip on his shoulder, a nasty temper too. But competitive and a show-off was what he was too and it made Draco’s life much easier to buy from him than any other. He hadn’t been this concerned over his personal appearance in a long time. The last he’d been near obsessive when he’d started dating Astoria, wanting her to like him as much as he did her. But looking good - an easier task for a Malfoy, certainly - would ingratiate himself to some. And now, as Draco made sure the entire ensemble was straight lines with no creases, no lint and certainly nothing cheap looking - he sighed in the mirror. Nerves were starting to eat his common sense. At least Hermione and Ginny would be here before the guests, making sure they could cover up if Harry went missing mid-party. He slipped outside and wandered the Manor, checking that the doors which lead to other parts of the house were all alarmed and charmed to be closed until the last guest left. He spied the blue dress first only to realise who it was as she turned around. “I almost didn’t recognise you, Ms. Goven.”Siobhan scratched her nose, even her nails usually short and clipped for work wore bright blue. “You clean up nicely yourself.” She coughed, smiling behind her hand. Good to know he still had it. “We should go downstairs, Mrs. Potter and the Minister are waiting to discuss the plan with you.”“You can’t divulge it yourself?” She only raised a now finely sculpted eyebrow and Draco admitted defeat. Healers that didn’t talk were rare but it wasn’t possible to hear much gossip from them. “I suppose you’ll be my plus one.”“Considering the papers, it might be best not to stay near each other for the rest of the night.”“Good idea.” Draco kept a firm reminder that Hermione was the most fair person he’d had the chance to meet. Really, if Draco waltzed out with a new romantic interest so soon after Daphne had given such an incensed call that Draco loved Astoria more than anyone else, it would have only damaged his relations. “Well, shall we?” He offered his arm and Siobhan took it without Draco worrying over rejection. Unlike the real world, where Draco would and could be rejected with ease it was not so simple in the world of yule balls and political functions. It would call the other person crude, petty and it was smarter for everyone to pretend all were friends.“You enjoy these, I take it?” She made conversation as they walked and it was strange to think he’d done the same thing with Astoria and yet had no element of interest in Siobhan.“Was it obvious?” Draco peered down to see her smile grow. “Very. You were near vibrating with excitement. I think Harry was a little jealous.” His frown might have been confused with him not understanding instead of being reminded Harry had tried several times to have a conversation and Draco had ran away, lame excuse on his lips. “You’ve been rushing off whenever he’s called on you. I imagine he’s been quite bored without someone to put up with his nonsense.”Draco smiled, “We’re kindred spirits, that know about how awful he is as a patient.”“Awful. Absolutely awful.” Siobhan’s face soured, her lips painted pink curling up. “I’ve never met a man so keen on breaking his legs, so to speak, before he can walk.”Draco was aware Siobhan had done this before. Goven was an alias but he now had to wonder as she took no issue with holding onto his arm and still walking down the stairs with large heels, that she was somehow related to a pureblood family. Unless they taught her these skills at that school of hers. “Oh!” Hermione greeted them with a smile that melted more of those nerves, “You both look like you're taking this seriously, good.” Hermione was in a similar shade of blue but nothing like the design. Merlin, Draco prayed no Witch arrived wearing the same gowns, dresses or robes.Hermione and Siobhan seemed to exchange a quick pleasantry before explaining, “So, Ginny will stay with Harry for the first half.” Draco straightened up, he hadn’t seen either of them yet. But good, his plan to keep the two together so Harry could stop forgetting he was married - and not attracted to Draco was one step closer to completion. “After, Siobhan, you take over. You can be a friend of Ginny’s. She’ll back you up. You met in the Leaky Cauldron, that’s all. Ron and Harry shouldn’t be left alone together. They wouldn’t ruin anything but it’s better to keep them away from each other too. Anything else?” Draco shook his head, he’d done this sort of thing since he was seven. Parties were easy, smile and chat. Siobhan didn’t seem used to her hair out of its confines and began to curl her hair behind her ears. “It looks good, you know. Don’t fuss over it,” Draco whispered, knowing how his wife had a problem wearing scarfs thinking they made her look ‘frumpy’ whatever in Merlin’s name that meant. “Thank you. I’m a little out of my element here.”“Well, if I have to see those at the door I need someone else to sacrifice the stares to.” Siobhan didn’t appreciate the joke but relaxed once she realised it wasn’t true. The greeting was only Hermione and himself. Hermione taking charge and Draco directing most questions back to why they were here. Most comments about his home were said with a tightness in their voices and Draco hoped Lotty had done enough to pull a genuine compliment out of them during the rest of the night. Harry and Ginny were not here yet and it seemed that was the plan - to have him arrive a little late while everyone else was around talking just so they could take note of him. Hermione took a few minutes from greeting everyone to standing beside him and chatting. It was a bold move, really. From Draco’s point of view, it was nice but overall Hermione really needed to focus on some of the heavy weights whose votes counted. “Draco, thank you. It’s beautiful.”Lotty was meticulous, though her skills didn’t extend to people. Every blue bow was a near replica of the others and the candles were perfectly the same height - Draco wasn’t sure how she managed to have so many candles have such a variety of blues and white flames. A buffet of elf-cooked meals sat on the longest wall. Draco nodded, he agreed. The floor was gleaming, the walls bright even against the night. Thankfully no rain had turned the garden into a swamp and it left those who found the Manor too much a chance to leave but not the party in itself. What had Draco worried was Hermione’s facade dropped. “Are you okay? The news about Astoria and all…it wasn’t fair of the Prophet or--”“Oh, that.” Draco bounced back. He had worried if his affect was off. “Daphne dealt with the whole thing.” Hermione did believe him, he assumed, as her smile was back and less strained. When the two Potters did appear, it was the same as every other time they arrived together. The same picture perfect couple, school sweethearts and strong enough to survive what the War dragged alongside. People cooed over Ginny, and Draco made sure to have his back to Harry from then on. Let him have all the time to banter and revel in the attention he received with Ginny.Only once did Draco look back, when he was in conversation with two old crones that could barely hear, a witch with no sense of humor and her husband who might as well have stayed in bed with the times she’d elbowed him awake. Harry was well dressed for once, not slouching in that way that made Draco wonder if he was trying to make himself smaller and more unseen against the crowds. Tonight he was eagerly shaking hands, giving a grand hug to Hermione when he reached her. This was almost too easy. Anyone who sided against Harry or Ginny were typically not public favourites and it wasn’t so easy to buy that back. He hadn’t meant to catch Harry’s eye from across the room and he gulped from his champagne glass. It wasn’t so difficult, they’d had a bit of practise at that from Hogwarts though Draco had wanted Harry’s attention on Ginny for as long as possible. Draco suppressed a laugh, because Harry actually looked surprised - not present at his own party? Really, Potter - before Samson said something about Quidditch. That was a topic Draco knew and he turned to chat a little more. His wife did not seem pleased at the turn of conversation. If his neck prickled any, he ignored it. Far away from both not wanting to place himself in Harry’s sights or near Ginny. Not yet. He and Ginny were still making rounds, and had more than enough of the room watching them. It might rekindle the lost love, or whatever was lacking between the two. The details didn’t matter so much as Harry spend as much time as possible with his wife. Harry was simply missing whatever intimacy Ginny gave. His little crush would be over and Draco wouldn’t need to think about it. Such as: what if Harry was serious?So, as Harry and Ginny kept their pace up on going around the room, Draco did the same. Never once standing in the same circle of gossip or conversation. He knew not everyone liked him but he welcomed them all the same. He just pretended they were Luna, who he spied across the room. Now, he had one more reason to move along faster. He hadn’t even given her name much thought, too focused on those he didn’t know. Luna was the first to show her clear allegiance and she hugged him. A surprise for a few, as Draco heard some whisper. He greeted Rolf, Luna’s husband with a somewhat nervous handshake. He hadn’t met the man once. And then his neck prickled and he sighed through his nose and hoped no one but Luna heard it. “Harry’s looking over here isn’t he?” He sipped at his champagne and loathed the way his night was going. If Harry kept up with this then everyone was going to be asking what Draco had done wrong, which might very well translate over to Hermione couldn’t be trusted. Luna smiled and nodded, “Mm, how did you know?”“Just a feeling.”“Rolf and I were interested in well, the owl.” She beckoned him a little closer and Draco leant her his ear, “We were talking about how it differs depending on which form the person’s in. Could I ask for a word in private so we can test it? It’ll take seconds.”Draco wasn’t sure how much he liked the idea Rolf knew about his animagus form and he found himself annoyed. He told Astoria everything, he tried to reason. But he had thought Luna would know not to chatter about this. It was her husband. No secrets and all that, Draco sighed again. He wasn’t sure he was allowed to feel betrayed at this. He nodded and he made their way to a charmed room, one which no one but he - well, Harry too - could enter. “I’d like you to close your eyes.” Luna stood waiting and Rolf pulled out a quill and parchment. Right. If people ever said Snape watched them as if they were curious, dumb little creatures well, he suddenly felt that way too. Fine. Quicker this was over, the quicker he could return to the party and help Hermione. Closing his eyes in company wasn’t what Draco would agree to so easily, Luna had to know that. He waited and Luna did what she wanted, she scratched the bridge of Draco’s nose. “How did that feel?” Rolf asked, quill posed and ready over the parchment.“You’re both mad, you know that?” Draco laughed, nervous and not sure why he was now, so uncomfortable in his own skin. “It wasn’t the same. As an owl it’s more like a -- hug, I guess? It’s comforting as an owl. It’s weird otherwise.”“I was right!” She grinned at Rolf and he shrugged, not as enthused. “Thank you.” Luna leaned closer, her whisper just audible, “Wanted to tell you, Mary, she’s not wearing her cloak anymore.”His pleasant mood faltered. Until he saw Luna’s worry. Then he shook out of it. “It's fine, don't worry about it,” Draco whispered back and moving away, he added, “Best for us all to return, can’t have anyone think we were away too long. Gossip likes to wake in absence.”It was a strange night, knowing the paranoid flare that told him someone was watching him was just Harry. Harry Potter was being a pest. And Draco wanted to laugh, manners be damned, at him acting so obviously. Had he always done this? Was this his life now? Having Harry Potter constantly follow him around and be some smitten fan? Well, he supposed it was time to set some things straight. He went upstairs, knew if Potter was anything still like himself, he’d take the opportunity and follow him. Draco pretended he didn’t see Harry until he was right next to him.“Hey, I kinda feel like I haven’t spoken to you all week,” Harry said and if Draco didn’t know what he did all week long, he might have felt guilt over that comment. But what was Harry expecting Draco to do? Gush over him like so many others did?Him: Harry Potter walking into a room with Draco Malfoy? They’d have their own set of stares and whispers. While some people might bite their tongue when Draco was near, in an effort not to anger Harry, to what end? What did he really think was going to happen? Ginny was still his wife. And Draco, how was he supposed to be a good husband if he went off with Harry? What would that mean? That Astoria was forgotten, that what they had didn’t mean anything? Never. He’d said, he’d promised to love her forever. “Been a bit busy,” Draco sighed into his flute glass and stared down at the crowds. The ballroom was full and spilling into the garden, the house itself enjoyed the new magical cores visiting. If they spoke a compliment or two, the Manor preened under the attention and Draco forced himself not to be too happy over it all. Lotty would be glad. “You look good.”“I always look good.” Draco wasn’t sure now. How long had Harry flirted and Draco just hadn't seen it? He glanced back to see that ridiculous hair, still everywhere. “Couldn’t you have done something about the mop on your head?”“Ginny tried. It does its own thing.” Harry rubbed at his neck and forced a smile on his face. That was a little too harsh, really. Probably. Right, he shouldn’t be too cruel else Harry might flip back to assuming everything he did had some nefarious purpose. “At least you bought a decent suit.” Draco was back on the crowds watching them mingle, seeing who went to who and who ignored who. A small saving of face, that wasn’t too much. His attempt to ease Potter backfired and the smile fell.“I’m not that bad.”The excuse was, he was busy. Each and every time Harry tried to ask, tried to talk that’s all Draco said. Then Draco remembered the coat and relented, “I suppose not.” He wasn’t too sure how he felt over Harry wanting to kiss him back then. He could still see Harry’s pupils widened and consumed, how eager. Draco cleared his throat and his head of that image. It was a strange thought, Harry wanted to kiss him back then. “See him, you need to do something you probably won’t like.” He didn’t point but motioned to the man in the obvious blue robes which were the worst fashion choices made this night. “Go remind Blue you killed Voldemort.”“Will it help Hermione?” Harry was biting his lip, Draco could see a glimpse of teeth, not happy over his need to brag and Draco looked away not wanting to linger. “It might. Depends on how well you do.” Draco departed Harry’s company then, unsettled at how normal it was. Was Draco safe to pretend he knew nothing? He spied Ginny on her own, near the buffet and glancing around the place. “I don’t suppose you could take Harry back--” Ginny wore That Face, the one that Draco knew so well, was so accustomed to, the suspicion and near repulsion on her face was a copy of each and everyone Draco had met who hated him “--he’s been here forever,” Draco finished. He was proud he hadn’t stuttered through it even as she shifted into a smile, though it fake and unconvincing until she started to speak. “Do you need him out immediately? Are you running out of space?” Sarcasm was dangerous to a Slytherin because it could be layers of truth or insulting lies and Draco paused as Ginny’s smile didn’t falter. She was used to having people watch every single move and twitch on her face and try and guess what was being said. “How long have you planned having this party and using him as a centrepiece?”“It was a last minute thing.” It sounded like a lie even to him, so he added taking a sip of his champagne. “Ask Hermione if you don’t believe me.” Finally, Ginny’s presence quelled and her Gryffindor bravado calmed. Whatever she thought was going on, he’d managed to convince her otherwise. Because there was no way on Earth that Hermione would cover for Draco when it came to Harry. Did she think this was all in Draco's plan? To house a sick Harry Potter and use him as a token to wow the guests? Not wanting to excuse himself too soon - anyone watching might consider they didn't enjoy one another's company. Ginny too was awkward and looked at her shoes until Draco heard her sigh as if she'd lost an argument with herself.“He says he’s doing better. How true is that?” Ginny was tired. An honest answer? Draco didn’t say a word as another pair of wizards passed, and it gave him time to go through what exactly he’d heard from Siobhan and how Harry was making progress. “I won’t say it wouldn’t happen again. It just might take three years of another incorrectly brewed potion.”Ginny looked guilty and again, Draco was proved wrong in his assumptions over her behaviour as she sipped her drink and crossed an arm over her chest. “Keep an eye on him. He lies. A lot. I think we’ve all heard he’s fine more than enough to know he’s not.” Her bitterness was overshadowed by a strange morph of hurt and resentment. Draco wondered how far gone Harry was to lie so often - was he lying? Was Harry lying over his flirtations too? Was this because Draco was in charge of his potions now? How serious was he?It bothered him. Even as Ginny made her excuse to leave and take over Siobhan’s station over Harry. It… really bothered him. What did he bloody want? What could possibly make Potter think securing potions from him needed him to swan about and flirt? Did he honestly think Draco was desperate? He’d ignored him for a week, a long gruelling week and now, Draco wanted to know. What was Harry’s angle here?Looking around the room he spied a few others who’d left their own circles of chatter. He really hated Mrs. Weatherby as she smiled at him from across the room. She was adamant in her old ways and not because they were proper or made sense to anyone but her, but because that’s what worked for her once or twice in the past never mind the coincidental events which led to that. As such she didn’t trust anyone never seen drunk and Draco suspected she knew he’d been nursing the same flute of champagne since the beginning. He finished the one he was holding, grabbed another one and left to speak with Harry who’d taken to the fringes of another group which surrounded Hermione. He didn’t make his way straight over there, needing to pass through the crowds and make sure everything was going well.By the time he’d made it to Potter’s side, the second glass was handed off to some hired help of Hermione’s. Harry shifted, and Draco didn’t miss the way he straightened up as he moved to whisper into his ear, “How about a wager?” And as he went to pull back, Harry grabbed his wrist again, keeping him near. The ballroom might as well not have had a crowd, the decorations perfect or his wife standing in this very room with the scandal written on his face. “And what do I win?”Draco snorted, hiding his nerves. He remembered, Harry didn’t care about reputation or how to garner favour from other families. “You’re not going to win.” He snatched his hand away, burnt nerves reminding him while he walked away he was playing a game he knew nothing about.He made his way to Weatherby, the old crone. She didn’t speak much, though Draco was well aware that some of the younger guests would try and foolishly fill the silence. She must have found out quite a bit of information so far. So, he asked her how her charity for abandoned familiars was going. Cue two others jumping in, letting him know their charities too, were wholesome and in ever need if funds. Cruelty, arrogance or boredom made Draco stay quiet as the three began to one up each other over stats and how much they helped the world. All the while, on the rare occasion a question came this way, he’d make it seem like maybe he should invest. In one, just one because Draco Malfoy wasn’t that keen to part with too much money on one night. All three agreed to write to him in future. Next was the man whose name escaped Draco’s grasp. All he knew he was on the list for Magical Creature Protection and the list for Profits Potion Dispensary. An interesting life, really. How could someone who thought dragons shouldn’t have their scales taken, pixies wings unplucked think about protecting said Magical Creatures while also in the group that was listed as possible blackmarket? A hypocrite at worst, a liar at best. Draco chatted about his lab and the Liar chatted about his. Luring out the information was easy enough, as this one wanted everyone to know how much of an undiscovered prodigy he was.He was sweating as Draco started to dissect the lies he spoke, and those nearby were happy to watch him fall. The crowds appreciated an arrogant sod falling. One thing Draco understood more than not now was arrogance and bragging did nothing but dig under everyone’s skin. Another couple, who did not entertain him in the slightest were not interested in him. They were Hermione’s guests and so Draco excused himself too. Bumping into someone, he turned to apologise and make up for his lack of grace only for him to realise it wasn’t his fault.Harry caught him by his arm, returned the whisper in his ear that made him freeze, “Last week, you’ve been avoiding me since then.”“Wow, you really are an Auror.” Draco tried his best to be nonchalant even as a tingle ran up his neck. “So, have you gone mad? Is that it?” His jaw twitched and he scoffed. “Come here,” Harry said, sharp and much like what Draco assumed his underlings at the Aurors heard from him on a day-to-day basis. Draco panicked as Harry led him away. This wasn’t a good look. This wasn’t a good look at all.Harry didn’t march him away too far. The Manor buzzed in his head when Harry opened one of the doors to an out of bounds rooms before it calmed. He let go, charging off into the room and Draco at least had no slamming doors to alert any more people. “So you knew? All this time?” Harry wasn’t angry, belligerent or insulted. Embarrassed might be closer as he fidgeted with his glasses, “You don’t--” “--Never thought about it. Haven’t thought about it.” That wasn’t entirely true, but Harry didn’t need to know that. Draco rested his back against the door, ignoring Harry completely, looking off to one side. All while Harry returned, standing a little too close, a little too much in Draco’s personal bubble. Trying to bluff his way out of the looming conversation, Draco picked at lint which wasn't there, “Yes well, you have my attention now. I should say--”“I think--” it was difficult to speak when he saw Harry’s attention diverted to his mouth and stay there, “--you’ve confused me caring for you as me caring about you.” There. What a weight off his shoulders. He was doing the right thing. Harry could think about all the misinterpreted cues, feelings and know that Draco wasn’t taking advantage or messing around and go back and try with Ginny. His wife and not someone who--and Harry kissed him.More of a peck, really. Nothing to write home about, it was over before Draco really registered what was going on. Nothing to panic over, nothing to blush over, he bit into his tongue hoping the heat on his face wasn't noticeable. His wedding ring gnawed hard on his finger wanting him to stop and Draco flinched back, he wasn’t sure how he should--“Can you think about it now? Properly.” And Draco didn’t know what to do, not with all this, this Harry that has kissed him and not thrown an insult. The Manor gave him encouragement - it wanted a Ward to be happy and get what it wanted - and Draco was still stuck, looping over the same phrase in his head unable to peel himself off the door or move an inch. Harry was serious. Wasn’t he? He was actually serious. Did Harry even want to fall again for Ginny? Did Ginny even want their romance rekindled? Draco was always scared of Harry’s unbridled confidence; he never seemed to quake or cower, never wavered in doing what he wanted or thought best. Without a thought, a single thought to what that might mean he just went off and did whatever he pleased. He licked his lips and tried to focus on what he was expected to say, but all that popped into his heads were more sensationalised headlines. 'Death Eater Ruins Potter Marriage', 'Malfoy Corrupts Boy Wonder,' 'Harry Potter Under Impervious,' and he couldn't let go of the paranoia that Harry wasn't serious, not really, not even as Harry was saying otherwise. “You have more money, political clout and reputation than I have. You should find someone else if you want someone other than Ginny.”Oh, Merlin. Shutting his eyes, Draco cursed. Ginny. She was only through this doorway and she'd send him a slew of Hexes and Jinxes if this ever reached her.Poor Harry was watching him like he didn't understand. Had he forgotten about Wilks and his ilk already? Every interaction Draco had was give and take. Blaise was galleon hungry and Nott was necessary to blackmail and bludgeon to go Draco's way. Luna was a slight exception, though her knowing the truth about the owl, Fornax, was yet another imbalance to chalk up to Draco's meagre reputation. If people liked him, he wouldn't need to hide it.“I'm not-- I haven't been--” Harry scrubbed at his face, his fingers going under his glasses, and Draco wasn't impressed at how long it took Harry to figure out how him trying to be anything to Draco Malfoy was a poor idea. “I don't care about any of that.” “I didn't expect you to." Draco thudded his head back against the door. Not much could undo defeating Voldemort. “Look at it this way, to most I'm a Death Eater." He didn't consider himself one but it was better to use it in his defence than allow it as a weapon to be used against him. “If I'm too friendly or close to others, I pull them down too. Luna's been saved from being barred from a few places only because she runs The Quibbler. Hermione will most likely be taking a chance on the votes I can get her versus the ones she'll lose because this party is here, in my house. Social poison is the term.” “I don't care," was Harry's immediate reply.And Draco scoffed in good humour because Harry was telling the truth - and wasn't that adorably naive? “You will, when your kids start being refused entry to places because of me. So, don't start something you shouldn't.” Being taller than Harry was always a point of pride, especially back in Hogwarts which made sneering and looking down his nose at him much easier. Normally, usually, Harry would scowl and raise his shoulders like an alley cat ready to fight. He didn't do either this time.No, this time Harry's smile was back and it grew till he was grinning, “It sure seems like you've given it a lot of thought.” Why was it always the plans that involved Potter that never went the way Draco wanted it to? “Did you listen to a word I said?” Bristling at that familiar tone, Draco tried to redirect before Harry tugged on this avenue of conversation. The control was slipping, he could feel in slip through his fingers.“You've thought about it.” That bloody voice always was provoking him, “You said you hadn't.” Harry sounded just too pleased with himself, “so, what did you think?”“This is the worst idea you've ever had and I'm aware you marched into the Forest to die," Draco said, a panicking thought he might not be able to get him off this topic.Harry erupted into such a loud and sudden laughter Draco cringed. The rooms were charmed not to allow those inside but they weren't charmed to cancel noise.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
He was half expecting Harry’s burst of laughter to contain an admission that everything up to this point was a joke but the punchline of such a twisted prank never arrived. Or for the door to burst wide and have everyone staring, peering in and accusing him of somehow seducing Potter. Thinking of it that way was enough for the wedding band to nip again on his finger. Calm down, think and test. Test how honest Harry was being about this. What else did he have to gain from this? All the possibilities and most of them were negative. Any publication able to tarnish Harry a cheater and humiliate Ginny in one fell swoop would be pressed up against the door if they knew what Harry was saying, doing. Why would Harry risk that? Unless he wasn’t.“Ginny and you are keeping your separation quiet for Lily, yes?” Harry probably didn’t expect Draco’s collected, some might say even cold response. “Are you expecting me to be a secret? Or wait around for years to come?” The more he said, the more he scowled and with writhing worms in his gut every second was more and more uncomfortable. He wanted answers but Draco wasn’t keen to hear what he assumed right. Did Harry really think so much of himself? That Draco would happily wait or stand in the dark corners and keep everything secret. Is that what Harry was hoping for Draco to say? Logically, it was sound. His ring was biting now, urging him away from the thoughts of another person other than Astoria. “I don’t think most people when they see us are going to immediately guess--”“So, that’s it? I won’t be an easy find for your adoring public.”“You really,” Harry sighed and it weighed Draco down by his feet. “I really didn’t say any of that. I’ll leave it up to you.” Harry’s smile might not be as broad but it was there, still, taunting Draco all over again. “Does this mean you’re actually, really, thinking about it?”The ring bit and chewed and Draco felt his hand and finger grow warm in a trickle of blood. Draco hid it under his robe’s sleeve, not bothering to alert Harry to this. Not yet, the conversation couldn’t change because of this. “I’ve more questions. Though not enough time to ask.” Draco paused to listen to anything from beyond the door. Gossips had ruined many a reputation. “I don’t know if I could think of you like that.” The lie was easy enough for Draco to say to Harry. Unlike his wedding band which bit and bit because he wasn’t thinking of Astoria.“Would it help if I kissed you again?”“Where do you get your confidence?” Did Harry know how to lose? Had he ever had a defeat where he didn’t brush it off and walk away unharmed?“It’s not confidence. I’m just impatient.” And impulsive, Draco added himself knowing fine well Harry wasn’t the type to think too much when overwhelmed with feelings. It gave him an opportunity, to see if this - all this chat and flirting held anything more than a flimsy excuse to eavesdrop in his house or barter for potions. “Fine.” Draco stood away from the door, clenched his hand tight because there was no way it was going to allow him to remove it. This one liked to dig in and as much as the teeth were small and sharp, the ring itself would tighten and cause more damage in the long run. Astoria’s mother was adamant to check it every time they met and his hand was always flawless - of course it was - and no scars or quick healing magic used. “Take the specs off.” “What? Really?” Harry didn’t even try to hide how his eyebrows disappeared under that mess of hair. Was this a lie then? Draco tilted his head, waiting to see if he slipped up again. And Harry took them off, squinting around before continuing, “You aren’t making fun of me are you?” Asking him now, Draco would lean towards curiosity than much else. People didn’t take their fill of Draco Malfoy, they took it from his Vaults. He was key to be used and entertained: Wilks was the same. He flirted and preened and cooed over Draco but Draco - he knew what desire looked like. And no one, not for a long time, ever wanted to spend too much time, invest much effort in the potential Death Eater. He was certain he could tell if Harry was lying. That peck was something anyone could do. It hadn’t meant anything.Once Harry failed, they could return to the fragile friendship they’d started. It was the perfect plan, really. Which was why as Harry came closer again, Draco only considered one outcome. He was definitely lying and Harry would be the proof itself. What Draco expected was another peck, a half-hearted attempt to coerce.So, Harry putting his arms around his neck was the first step in confuddling him. A distorted thought that if Harry so wanted to hurt him, he was the perfect height to headbutt his nose. Astoria was quite short in comparison to Harry, Draco always had to crane his neck down awkwardly for a kiss. But Harry didn’t do that. He kissed him again and instead of leaving it as a failure, as a cheap gimmick even Draco could muster for anyone he didn’t stop. And then Draco’s plan died a death in fire and confusion. Because he was snogging Potter. The long forgotten heat of a tongue against his mouth, in his mouth and the weight of someone leaning against him was nearly enough to make him pull away. This was more than-- and the nails at his neck scratched at his nerves, all the way down his spine and Draco shuddered against the sensation. Harry had him back, pressed against the door. Resting his uninjured hand along Harry’s throat and jaw he could feel Harry’s fast pulse, hear and feel the urgent breathing against his cheek when he took a second. Ouch.He pushed Harry in retaliation for the pull of his hair, against something else, Draco didn’t care what, didn’t check - Harry was fine, he was still eager and pawing at the wisps of hair at the nape of his neck. As the blood thrummed in his head, the cuts on his finger bled more and Draco didn’t care.One of them, was it him, was it Harry, Draco didn’t know who started to tug at robes first. But Potter had his hand slide under everything, fingers against his collarbone and whatever noise Draco would have made, was swallowed down by Harry’s mouth. Potter’s hands were hot coals, imprinting onto his skin no matter where he moved them. He was taller as he hopped up onto - what was it, the chest of drawers - and Draco’s neck thanked him. And Potter wasn’t just kissing his mouth but a nipped at his jaw and scratched at his skin and tugging at him to be closer and--Someone rattled the door, the handle twisting and turning. Out of reflex, forgetting the doors were safe and secure already Harry muttered a spell that may have failed and Draco ordered the House to shut it. And then they stayed there, listening - a woman going by the voice asking who was in there - and Draco was certain he stopped breathing for a moment as he waited to see if she would attract a crowd. Draco sighed when someone else spoke about the bathroom being on the east side of the building. He felt it in Harry’s posture too, how his muscles relaxed and Draco was going to pull away before Harry kept him still. Harry’s eyes were dark, as if the sun eclipsed and his face flushed. “You believe me now?” Draco nearly missed the words in their entirety as he stared as Harry spoke, breathless and mouth more appealing than it should be. Harry tried to start up again and in response, Draco started to pull away. This wasn’t the best locale after all. People would definitely talk here if they suspected anything.Clearing his throat, Draco started to build up those walls again. “Go meet and greet, Potter. Party’s still on.” Draco ran his hand through his hair, wanting to ignore how his lips felt were entirely too tingly to chat with old geezers that were stuck in their ways about policy. Harry left first as he didn’t need to worry about his hair, it was always a mess. Draco was grateful he hadn’t hung around to try to talk.“Merlin, what am I doing?” Draco shook his head as he examined the mess of his finger. Well, he wasn’t sure why it hadn’t cut off his finger immediately; it had done more damage at the thought than the action. Well, he supposed he was either desperate enough for any sort of interaction or, possibly, the idea of Harry wanting him wasn’t so unappetising. Right. Spelling away the blood was simple. Making certain he didn’t appear as if he’d went off to suck face with Harry was more difficult. He wasn’t sure if his hair was sitting like it had and despite spells for lowering bruising, he was sure swollen lips didn’t count. Well, he might as well try it. He supposed he could lie and say he was allergic to champagne. That might convince some Muggleborns not many purebloods would consider it even possible for Draco to forget about a quick potion. He waited. Until his heart rate was calmer. Best get on with the rest of the night. Taking one last look in the mirror, he agreed his demeanour said nothing about what occurred. He hadn’t considered he’d feel anything now that he was in a room filled with others and Harry being only one, one tiny fraction of that crowd. Dealt with, completed, no more right now - Draco considered what happened with Harry done, finished. Until he saw him again. Convenience was a strange state. Astoria’s mother demanded him to wear this ring so he would not easily commit adultery. Yet Draco needed no charmed or hexed jewellery for that. Yet now, it was this ring which nipped and reminded him to focus - on the other guests and not on Harry Potter’s scorching looks from across the room. It took away the phantom pressure on his lips, the scratches on his neck and banished stray thoughts. Like if Harry was as impulsive and impatient as he claimed, what was stopping him from marching over and continuing? A daring thrill ran through him at that.Stop. Stop it. Either his common sense or the ring said. It only got worse as most interpreted Harry’s stare as fury, Draco’s as aloofness or arrogance. People could see them. But they didn’t see it. They just kept out of the way, people moving out of Harry’s stare - if they ever blocked the view of one Draco Malfoy. Draco clawed over the nape of his neck desperate for another distraction. No matter who, their importance in Hermione’s schemes or how Draco required their vote he couldn’t stop being dragged back. Back over to wherever Harry was and catching his eye again. And both a distinct pleasure - no one in the room seemed to even realise - and pain - it nipped again and again and each time Draco had to spell the mess away - kept Draco’s nerves alight. This was the worst idea Draco ever had. When Harry made his way round the room again - Siobhan now stationed at his side - he knew it was the worst. The worst idea as Harry greeted the same circle of witches and wizards and Draco was going to die. Because Draco had no other action than to allow Potter to pull him closer and whisper into his ear and Draco wanted to drag Potter out of here by his ridiculous hair.“Malfoy.” He froze, not at the distant name but how it sounded far different from anything Draco ever heard. Now he was back in there, in that room, with Harry clawing at him. “Stop it.”What exactly was he doing?Had anyone else heard that? No. Everyone was in on their own conversation, keeping out of the way of the Auror. One by one, Draco stopped biting his bottom lip and breathing and his face warmed, a quivering nerve down his spine and Draco couldn’t let this happen. Couldn’t allow Potter to see how utterly cruel and unfair this all was: he wasn’t going to lose when he was hosting a party. “Where would the fun in that be?” he added, “Potter.” Seeing the way his muscles twitched on his face was worth it. That’s when Draco started to notice everything else. People started to blank him, at his own party. And when Draco glanced back to see Harry, still staring, Draco swore. It was happening. He was being shunned. And it was Harry’s fault. It was his fault for entertaining this idea. He fled, trying to think. He avoided Harry, trying to recoup the loss. But it didn’t matter because all people saw was Harry wasn’t pleased and, clearly, it must be the Death Eater’s fault. Bugger, bugger, bugger. So, Draco stood on the upper floor, looking down, waiting for Hermione to finish her rounds and make her way upstairs so she could start her speech. This was always a boring time during the night. No one really liked the speeches, they were a means to an end. Unless Draco had done a terrible job those who would vote for Hermione’s incentive would do so without needing to hear a long winding speech about how it was the just and right thing to do. “So this is where you’re hiding?” Draco sipped his half-filled flute and didn’t look down at Potter. He was hidden from sight, the half-walls high enough even to hide that unruly hair of his. “I was tired of being asked if I thought you were up to something.”“You know why that is, don’t you?” Draco sniped at Harry’s idiocy, he’d done well for Hermione even Ron but for him? He’d just cast more suspicion. “Standing across the room, glaring at me for an hour and a half and you think it’s weird that people are going to start thinking I’m up to something?”“I wasn’t glaring.” Harry wasn’t lying, he supposed as Draco took another sip. Eventually, once Hermione made her speech the evening would run down and most would start to leave. Whatever impression Harry had left along with them. Harry still had time to undo the damage he’d done. “I doubt any would believe you if you told the truth of what you were doing.” Draco closed his eyes, he really wasn’t sure what he should make of Harry’s new found affection. It was unfounded, it was weird. But it wasn’t necessarily as uncomfortable as he expected. If anything he’d revelled under the knowledge only he knew in a room filled with people. “You ruined my fun. No one’s going to come back here in case I am up to something.”Was he bitter? Yes. Of course he was. If Potter did have some twisted way of showing affection ruining his chance to gain more allies wasn’t cool. “What can I do?”“Just leave me alone.” Draco set the flute on the half-wall and spied Hermione chatting animatedly with Ron and the head of magical games and sports, Draco wasn’t sure of the name. What did it matter? “You don’t need to be in my house any more, Potter. Find somewhere else and hire Siobhan yourself. I’m done.”“I can fix it.”“You can’t even walk,” Draco snapped back and stood up straight, off to the balcony where the ballroom itself would help carry a voice without the need of magic. Harry had managed to walk two steps, before he’d clung onto Draco’s arm. He was pleading and it made Draco’s blood boil.“Just tell me what you want me to say.”“I can buy a dozen mouthpieces, the problem is so can everyone else.” He shrugged the hand from his arm and glared. How could he have been so stupid to think this would end well. Harry Potter, centre of attention no matter what. No matter what Draco was always the bad guy. Draco saw Hermione and spoke quickly over what he should say. Should he say speech, should he just say ‘a small word’, how long was her little speech anyway? Hermione gave him a pat on his shoulder, told him he’d do it and Draco wondered just how awful had Harry tanked his reputation just through misunderstandings alone. Bugger, bugger, bugger.As people heard Hermione’s speech, the customary clap from everyone even if it moved everyone to tears of boredom was endured. Then Draco and Hermione were back together, giving people farewells and redoubling their efforts for people to like Hermione enough, or simply being inclined to vote because of the financial or social benefit. And then it happened, a fairly youthful witch waltzed over and hugged him. Clearly intoxicated going by her slurring. “Sanks,” she’d wept. And that’s when Draco wondered what Harry had done because she wasn’t the only one to extend their gratitude.“You’ve done a good thing, a bloody good thing.” A much older wizard clapped him on his shoulder and he and Hermione shared a bewildered look. What was this all about? Hermione excused herself as the crowds thinned and Ron waved her over, frowning and giving Draco an uncomfortable nod of acknowledgement. He wasn’t sure why he was being thanked so soon by so many people but he eyed Harry from over the crowds that were gravitating towards the exit. Once his duties ended he went to see what Harry had to say for himself. Unlike the proud, preening idiot he expected to see, Harry was talking to Hermione, seemingly furious. What a bloody idiot. This whole night was for Hermione, anger directed at or near her did not help. What if someone snapped a picture right now? They could paint such a grand story and nothing factual. Draco didn’t hear much, other than Hermione’s objections and the name of Ginny being brought up only to die as he sided up to the two of them. “I suggest you both smile. Else people are going to notice.” “I’m going to say goodbye to the stragglers. Maybe you can talk some sense into him.”“Doubtful.” Draco tilted his head and Hermione walked away, she wasn’t used to heels and Ron was happy to offer an arm to let her hang on and still keep up a steady pace. Harry didn’t say a word. “I should say this is only half the night. Technically.” Draco was well aware trying to open up a clammed up Harry wasn’t what he needed right now. Engagement, chatter, something in the opposite direction which Harry and Hermione spoke about. That way at least people would see he and Harry weren’t entirely at odds. “Most of those leaving have already decided on their vote. Those who hang around are the ones we’ll need to convince more, if at all.” Harry still didn’t say anything. “I’m not thanking you, you made the mess in the first place.” As such, Harry deflated beside him and Draco’s self-control stopped him from shaking his head and calling him a disappointment. “Politics and social gatherings aren’t really my thing. I wasn’t thinking about everyone else.”‘Just you,’ his pout implied. Or was Draco inferring wrong - was that simply all Draco wanted him to say.“Do you expect me to accept that as an apology? Boohoo, you didn’t think - and I’m the one who has to deal with your bullheaded way--”His father always said never to accept an apology. Anyone who dared betray, hurt or pity a Malfoy should never be forgiven. Humiliated and destroyed, that was what Draco was taught to do to anyone else. Add him to a list and never trust again. Funny really because Draco hadn’t forgiven him for what he’d dragged him and his mother into. “I’m sorry.” Draco blinked at Harry’s imploring words. This wasn’t fair. Why was Harry, looking at him as if he was the bad guy, as if Draco had done the harm?They’d never apologised, for all the awful things between them in Hogwarts. It was brushed away like Draco’s sentence when Harry had him acquitted. It wasn’t what should have happened, not even his father spoke about what Harry had done and all Draco thought was: Harry was mad. Gone utterly round the bend and took his spot as Saviour of the Wizarding World too far. Resentment that rose for so long was replaced with relief. He wasn’t going to spend his life in Azkaban. But they’d never spoken a word after that, not until Scorpius was in the picture. Even then, Draco never said a word about the Invisibility Cloak or cackling over Harry’s limp and boneless arm or--“Just think a little more, you don’t have any dragonblood to blame and I don’t have the time to do damage control every time you’re in the vicinity.” “I’m not used to everyone just jumping to conclusions like that. Aurors have training to make sure you don’t.”“I suppose it’s better than people finding out the truth.” Draco shrugged, looked around and spied a more intimate twenty or so guests still remaining. In the old days, this was when bribes and deals were introduced. Hermione was on a warpath and she wouldn’t not chat about her vision. Draco would be needed to prod a few towards agreeing. “What did you tell everyone?” He hadn’t been hugged by so many people in a long time. A lie. He hadn’t been hugged so often, ever.“The truth.” Draco’s heart might have fallen out his mouth at that. “That you saved my life and I owe you one. And that I was angry because people were just ignoring you.”A fluttering feeling settled in his chest and Draco took another swig of his drink. Right. Well, he could easily make this a point of conversation. Though having Potter involved might help, Draco couldn’t think of how awkward that’d be - to have Potter thank him, in front of everyone and yet not really believe it himself. Potter wasn’t dying, certainly his magic was crazed and feral but dying was an exaggeration. One Draco wasn’t keen on accepting. Because the only time he did almost meet Death was as a result of his flawed and foolish plan a desperate Harry Potter hadn’t baulked at in the beginning. Harry, as such, was left well alone during the rest of the after-party. Draco spoke to the rest, careful of his words and the earlier heat dying because tonight showed how useless it was. No one would think well of him, even if Potter had his say. Weatherby didn’t so much as answer a question any more. He’d simply been caught up in whatever little spell of Harry’s.The guests left after speaking more to Hermione. Draco was finished, he didn’t want this party. Had it been successful or a disaster? Time would tell. At first, he watched Ginny and Harry kiss on the cheek and say goodnight which brought a thought to Draco he hadn’t had all night.Where was Siobhan? He wandered the Manor, looking for the Healer. But even as the Manor told him who was where, Harry and Lotty now together in the ballroom, Siobhan was nowhere. She’d left too. Draco wasn’t keen to ask why; had she seen or heard them? Was she off to gossip to the papers? No, Draco frowned at his hand, she wasn’t the type to sell out patients. Doubtful she would commit her own professional death at being known as a Healer that sold stories.But where was she?Draco took off his ring, underneath was caked in dried blood. He cleaned it first, this time picking at the flakes and smoothing over the metal. Its teeth were gone, hidden away again and Draco heard Astoria, clear as she said it the first time.‘Don’t wear it. You don’t need to wear it. You’ve nothing to prove.’He wore it because he did. He had everything to prove to his in-laws. A badge of honour really, at times, others a physical retort of Astoria’s family. They didn’t think he loved her. He did and he proved it by wearing this cursed thing and he hadn’t regretted it. Wrong, that’s what this was. To have wore the ring of his dead wife while he kissed someone who had tried to kill him and ultimately saved him. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Draco clenched his hand around it, tight and he heard it snap, the teeth exposed and waiting. Actions weren’t the key to causing it. Sighing throughout the house, Draco wasn’t sure if he should return it to his finger. Not until this blanket of guilt removed itself from his head. What was he doing? What did he really think would happen? Realistically? Nothing could come of this, nothing public. It was a surprise when it was Harry standing in front of him and Draco glanced to the sides of him, Lotty was busy removing the decorations and additions to the room. “You’re bleeding.” Harry didn’t wait for an answer but grabbed at his hand and muttered, “Episkey.”Harry didn’t let go.The spell proved futile to remove the feeling of wrongdoing. “Onto the healing spells already?” Turning over his hand, Harry checked and Draco noticed no more tiny pinpricks, no more clotted and scabbing blood. And still, it left him with nothing to focus on. Nothing wormed its way down his spine, no memories threatened to steal his sanity. Nothing and Draco wondered if what happened was all in his head, the evidence removed. Even as Harry seemed hesitant to do anything else but stand there and hold onto him. Harry rubbed at his nest of hair, seemingly flustered, “It’s not that impressive. Used that spell a lot back in the day, before going home or back to the office.” Harry mumbled the rest, “people would fuss otherwise.”How terrible. Such a privileged life Potter led, tired of people caring and fussing over him. A drink, that’s what he needed. With guests not drinking much, the rows of untouched champagne was a buffet all on its own. He took his fill and Harry stayed silent by his side. “Come see a game of Quidditch with me. Cannons are playing in a few weeks.”“No.” The last time he and Scorpius went to see a game of Quidditch, well, it was nothing worth repeating. Looking back, Harry was crushed - clearly, with his pout and sulk and his knitted brow and his scuff of his shoes against the floor. Another pang of guilt, another flash of tiny teeth and Draco sighed, relenting. “Nowhere too public.” “I have to go into the office tomorrow. I could use some company. Can’t exactly just go in with a bonafide Healer. ”Potter was an idiot of the highest calibre, Draco had no doubt now.“Circe and her sisters, I can’t hang around the Auror department. Have you forgotten who I am? How many people want me in Azkaban?” He spat, Harry had been told about his lack of thinking. This really was the worst idea he’d ever had. Draco took to sitting down, on the floor and waiting for Lotty to finish her inventory. He really needed to tell her before the night was over. “Right. Sorry, forget I said anything.” The smile said something else and Draco didn’t have to wait long and Harry was proud of his words, “Fornax could chase away anyone I don’t want in my office.” He sat down next to him, no longer bumping into him. No, he was shoulder to leg next to him and Draco snorted. What part of ‘never bring this up’, ‘ever’ did he not understand? Did he not--oh. Draco stared into his champagne, nearing empty. He had mentioned spells, he should have ignored it. Was this a dig, was this a proposition because Draco hadn’t ignored it?“On one condition.” Draco stared at his hand, still under Harry’s supervision. Maybe he wasn’t so confident in his healing spells.Oh.Right. Draco flexed it, curious now too. Why had the spell hurt as an owl? Was it the dragonblood? Dragons were notorious for their destruction, not healing capabilities. Did Harry think he’d hurt him? Sighing loud and slow, Draco offered his hand and said quickly, “It didn’t hurt. You can check it if you’re so inclined.” He should have implied checking also meant not trusting him. But how fast, how careful Harry took his hand to look was enough in itself to say how worried Potter was. He was ready to pry and tear apart any inconsistencies. Draco harked back to what Ginny said before. He lied. A lot. “When did this start?” Draco asked, hoping he didn’t need to elaborate. Harry’s hands were not just warm but calloused as they added pressure here and there - probably trying to get Draco to flinch, to prove Harry had somehow hurt him with the healing spell. “When you were waiting on Luna. You were just--” He shifted then, shrugging and awkward and Draco tried not to think of how this hand had been scratching at his neck hours ago, “--a Draco Malfoy I hadn’t seen before.” Draco was going to ask what a statement like that bloody well meant but Harry, frowning and uncertain started to ramble, “You know, not the arrogant git from school. Or the muted guy that doesn’t say a word in the Wizengot unless absolutely necessary.”Most people were in two separate categories: a supporter or not. One gave him words of encouragement or information for the same in return. Draco wasn’t sure what Harry was really talking about, Siobhan had said he’d near vibrated over this party and he wondered if he’d done the same waiting on Luna and waiting to see how his gift fared. “Keep going.” Draco took another gulp of champagne. “I like talking about me.” Harry might have scoffed but the smile on his face said otherwise. Harry spoke about him a lot. Not enough to embarrass him - there was no such amount - but it was interesting to hear what Harry thought was going on. “I genuinely thought you and Blaise were shagging and when you said you weren’t, I didn’t really believe you or him. Not until he came by earlier to check on you about the Prophet. But I was a little -- well, I was watching to see if you were hiding it.”“Still on that?” Draco wasn’t even bothered any more. What was Potter without his obsessive behaviour. Bloody prat actually followed him to the girl’s bathroom. It was the booze that made him laugh - not giggle - laugh and Harry was far too amused by it. “So, me leaving. Is there a time limit?” It was an off comment, really. One instantly recognised as not a joke, despite how lighthearted Harry tried to pass over it. He’d stilled, stalling in fidgeting or examining Draco’s hand. “What? Is this what this is? You making nice?” Squeezing his hand closed he trapped Harry’s hand in his. Ah, there it was. The raising shoulders and the grimace that told Draco how close Harry was to snapping. “Calm down, Potter. Stay if you want. It’s not as if I’m running out of rooms.”Draco stayed where he was, drinking quietly whilst Harry did nothing but hold his hand. And he laughed - not giggled - laughed at it all. Ridiculous, this was all utterly ridiculous.“Um, Draco I think you might be a bit tipsy.” Tipsy? Not good enough. Draco tried to spell another down, but to knocked into another and like dominoes the flutes all fell, shattering and spilling everywhere. But the one Draco wanted floated down, unharmed and Draco wasn’t sure how many of these he’d had tonight. Draco greeted the house elf but she said nothing in return. Lotty kept her eyes on the floor, awaiting judgement. Well, he’d had a bizarre day, a nice day, an aggravating day and with a sigh he started what he knew wouldn’t end soon. “The work you did over the last week proves you are my favourite house elf.” Lotty tugged at her ears and tried to hide behind them. Then came the shrill cries he knew, because Lotty was never very good at taking compliments and he’d need to say it over the course of a few days.Harry was grinning and Draco wasn’t sure why. He stumbled up, he’d wanted to use the wall behind him to keep himself up but one hand was around a glass and the other with Harry. It was then Harry’s fault, entirely that Draco was not graceful. “Think it’s about time for you to go to bed,” Harry joked and laughed and Draco scowled. Looked at Harry's hand now fully clasped in his. When had he done that? He shook his head, vehemently said he was not tired, Harry disagreed. They bickered, and Draco huffed.“Lotty, my room would you?” Draco pulled away from Harry completely. It didn’t bother him, he was still grinning far too wide.She did as she was asked and apparated Draco to his room. He slept, a dreamless sleep and awoke to a crying snotty house elf claiming she’d burnt the soup and therefore could not be his favourite. Laughing didn’t help her feel any better but really, Lotty was a form of amusement herself at times. So he reminded her, “You’re my favourite, don’t argue.” The pulling of rank and station helped. Breakfast wasn’t burnt, as much as Lotty claimed it to be and there too sat Siobhan, back in her working uniform. She played with her food, didn’t greet him as he entered.“Draco, I’m going to take Fornax to the Ministry, that’s still okay, right?” Draco nodded, not too interested in Harry right now. What was the curiosity was Siobhan herself. “Siobhan, you vanished last night.” Her cutlery clattered on her plate. “I-- I’d like to hand in my notice.” Downcast and keeping her sight on her untouched food was a clear indication something was wrong. Had Draco offended her? Had someone told her what Draco did way back when? Harry finally got a look and he too gave a concerned glance towards the Healer. “A little sudden. Where did you say you were?” Draco had stopped eating, Siobhan had too and Harry had slowed to watch. Something was quite wrong and Draco needed to know exactly what. She was in his house, under his care as she kept Harry alive and breathing. “Please, let me resign,” she bit out and Draco saw only her wringing hands in her lap. Something was forcing her hand? Draco nodded once. Knowing how hellish the world became when choice was no longer there or rather no good choice presented itself, Draco agreed. “Consider it accepted.”“Thank you.” Siobhan stood, abrupt and gave a short bow, “I’m sorry. I’ll send for my things later in the week. I’ll send a list of other Healers who would be acceptable.” And then she left with no further explanation. Hearing her fast footsteps, Draco waited until she was gone from earshot before he started to talk. “Well, that was odd.” Sitting back in his chair he stared at where Siobhan had left. Who had she seen, spoke to at the party? She hadn’t a problem in going, she’d done her job. So, why now?“Something’s wrong.” Maybe it was the Auror training, the life experience but Harry’s fierce glare at her chair was enough to remind Draco some people might have secrets they too did not want to escape and reach another’s ear.“And it’s none of our business,” Draco said but didn’t truly believe it. If her resignation was his fault, somehow because of his links, then he should fix it. First off, he’d need to ask who she’d spoken with, maybe Hermione or Ron would remember. He didn’t really want to speak with Ginny. Snogging her current husband was a strange admission he wasn’t sure she would believe even if he was mad enough to speak that out loud. “I can look up a few things, at the office, y’know.” Harry reminded him. Moran. Moran could have had one or two of his allies there. The Artefacts were hidden but would he threaten Siobhan if he thought Harry would leave the Manor too? Why else would Moran have stayed away for so long? Attacking a house with Harry Potter was a mighty dumb move. What if this was Moran’s plan? Making the Healers back away, having Harry leave-- wait. If Moran knew Harry was ill then it wasn’t as great a deterrent, so why would he stay away? “Maybe…” “Draco?”Draco jerked out of his thoughts then, waved Harry off and decided he’d go as Fornax. “Moran, the one who attacked me. What happened to him?”“We couldn’t convict since the key evidence - the owl was gone. He was cautioned and is barred from the Emporium.” Harry sipped at tea and lowered his eyes. So, he was walking around without so much as a slap on his wrists. Coughing, fake and obvious, Harry continued, “I should probably head off soon. Y’know if I’ve to take Fornax or not.” Sighing, Draco agreed, he should hurry to the Owlery and find the blasted bird. It wasn’t around very often, this Fornax owl.Fornax waited patiently, as Harry took his sweet time finishing off his breakfast. “Let’s go find out what’s going on with Siobhan.” He supposed he’d put himself in a cage for lesser reasons. Many of the Aurors were as uncomfortable seeing Harry again as the first time. Again, Draco was met with a few more glances, a few more whispers - which he heard clear as if they were shouting. One wanted to know why Harry hadn’t been fired, resigned or was taken from his station. Another few gossiped about someone, and finally someone asked about him, what was up with the owl, they’d discussed. Harry made a defeated noise and Draco twisted round to see. His desk was stacked high, paper on the floor piled higher. This was a grand amount of work to return to and Draco refused to help for any of it. He wasn’t keen to watch Potter do paperwork but if he could find anything on Siobhan or who had scared her off, it would help. Draco was certain he was missing something.Out of the cage, Draco fluttered onto the desk. Most of the mess were reports and required a signature. Or were memos, ones which Harry surely should be able to dispose of after reading. Harry thudded down into his chair and it groaned under the added weight.“Just don’t bite anyone.” As if Draco would deliberately annoy an Auror. How he wished he could roll his eyes and scoff as an owl but all he did was hoot, long and low to make sure Potter knew he wouldn’t do such a stupid thing. And then he saw Edgard Collins and shrieked at the incoming pest. Why did he need to speak with Potter right now?“Sir, I need to have a word with you about the owl--” The man was pot-bellied and slow to move and Draco started screaming, loud enough to drown out the droning voice of the Worst Curse-Breaker in London.“Sir--” He tried again and Draco continued on interrupting him each and every time the idiot opened his mouth. Again and again, and each time Harry played his part well and shook his head, miming he couldn’t hear. “Just leave the report there!” Harry covered his ears and Edgard was out of the office so fast Draco considered maybe, he was one of those wizards who was scared of owls. They weren’t like cats or dogs, that enjoyed pets and being spoken to. Most liked being with another owl, left to eat and hunt. Collins slammed the door as he retreated, white in the face. Harry had rested his head on his desk, shoulders shaking and Draco returned to grooming his feathers. Well, he supposed that was somewhat a good incentive for others to not interrupt him - Fornax - and Harry. Now, to find a file about Siobhan, or rather whoever she really was. Draco only knew she went to Beauxbatons and it wasn’t on any native record. Harry would have to send away for that. Moran’s file, hopefully, would be in all of this mess. And then Draco could guess what he was really up to these days. Had he tried and failed and didn't have the ambition to try again?
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Draco had far too much fun yelling at the Aurors who tried to enter Harry’s office. Especially the ones who did so when Harry had been pulled out by a memo from Hermione. As much as Harry had left, curtains and blinds drawn, door locked and Aurors told not to step foot inside, they still did. They flinched, they jumped back, they eyed him like he was a dragon. It was great fun. Much better than shuffling about in the Manor. And really, if that didn’t say ‘fair game’, Draco didn’t know what did. So, he fluttered to the light, perched on the lampshade and waited. Collins had tried three times already and each time, Draco shrieked at him and he had fled. Once even with a shriek of his own. This time however, as the door opened, it was revealed that witch with the crooked nose again. He made a lot of noise but she was undeterred. She made a beeline for the desk, stretching her hand she was about to take a file and Draco swooped down. He stood on it, a flex of his talons and a stare that surely would make some pause.“You have to move, okay? We need this.”Draco twisted his head. He didn’t care what they needed. They should stay outside, where they couldn’t see Draco. How else was he supposed to go through these files? Wasting his time was what they were doing. Still, she tried to slide and shoogle it from under him and Draco wouldn’t have himself outsmarted by someone who probably hadn’t got an Average on their Potions N.E.W.T.s (the fact he sat no N.E.W.T.s was irrelevant, he’d have an Outstanding, obviously). He nipped at the air, started to shriek less, and hiss more. “I told you, it’s bloody feral!” Collins appeared at the door, using it more as a shield to hide behind. The witch rolled her eyes and Draco returned the scathing look.“If it attacks unprovoked, it can be put down.” Unimpressed with the threat, Draco stayed put. He half wanted her to try and see how she’d explain this to Potter. Just try it, dear. “What? No, we - you can’t do that. He’ll know we’ve been here!” Edgard wasn’t so stupid then, as Draco shot him a glance and he closed the door a fraction. “Shut up, Collins. If we don’t do this we might as well hang up our badges and tell everyone the Great Harry Potter isn’t half the wizard he was.” Harry had been indisposed at the Manor for quite some time; more than a month. How long had Hermione and Ron covered up his messes? Going by the reaction of them slipping inside and stealing paperwork, it was more likely the entire department was in on this cover-up. Not for three long years, surely not. A year at most, Draco guessed. Collins was never very good at keeping secrets unless bribed and praised often enough for doing so. Perhaps, it wasn’t on their best interest they snuck into their boss’s office and underhandedly retrieved files which they should simply ask for. Was Harry really this incompetent? Draco pretended to hear something at the other side of the room and removed himself.“Where did it go? What’s it doing?” Collins asked from the door, still not peeking in too far. The witch left with a shake of her head and a scolding word on her tongue.The issue was they left the door unlocked and unwarded. While Draco was not willing to break the small promise of being discreet and leaving the office it did provide him with new sounds. Voices and their gossip, mostly. One of which was far too interesting to pretend otherwise.“So, what do you think? I heard it from her and she said Harry said it.”“Hearsay, if you want to believe some Malfoy is playing saviour that’s your business but don’t drag Harry into this, he deserves better.”Such fierce loyalty. Draco returned to the desk, peering out into the open plan of small cubicles and desks. “When was the last time he was even at a function? He has to be getting better. No way would the Minister let him go otherwise.”And then, another voice popped scandalised, “He’s back. He’s smiling. He’s actually smiling.”Harry didn’t greet anyone, at least not until he got to the entrance to his office. That smile wavered and Draco paced on the desk. “Is there a reason my door’s open?” “We were concerned with the noise. The owl didn’t seem to care for being on its own.” Oh no, no. Such tosh, such rubbish this one was spouting and Draco flew over, landed on Collin’s loaned out desk. Whom let out a churlish scream and hid behind the briefcase in his hands and Potter laughed. The witch flinched at the noise and every other Aurors and their respective consultations were watching.“Lonely? This one?”Draco refuted that point immediately, and nipped the file from the witch who'd stolen it. She waved him off and Draco hooted. Ha, in it now Witch. Auror or not, it didn’t take long for Harry to suss out the truth. Though he said otherwise and Draco didn’t mind the theatrics. “You harassed my Aurors.” Draco cooed under that compliment. Why yes, yes he did. Folding his arms didn’t help Harry’s attempt as the scolding minder as he failed to wipe that smile from his face. “You look real pleased with yourself.” He was. He’d wanted revenge on some of these morons for decades, namely Collins. He’d once taken a family heirloom out of his family crypt and hadn’t he just gloated about it. Hooting softly, he agreed with all charges. Sweet, sweet victory. Ah, today was such a fantastic day. Collins, pushing back against his chair made little movement and might even have stopped breathing when Draco turned to pin him with a look.“Collins he won’t bite.” Draco heard the warning in Harry’s voice despite the smile.“I won’t take any chances, I like my fingers,” Collin said, curling his fingers into his palm. It made Draco laugh in long drawn out hoots. “Okay, you,” Harry said, and the audacity, tried to pick him up. Hopping and sidestepping away, Draco sent a glare - what did Potter think he was doing? In his moment of contempt, Harry did manage to pick him up. Flapping, shrieking and in no way stopping he heard Harry say, “Don’t give the man a heart attack.” Draco didn’t know what that was but Collins probably deserved it. Draco wasn’t pleased, even as Harry tucked him up between his arm and his side and the flapping stopped, trapped. All while Harry fled from the staring Aurors back to his office. “Fornax, back to the office - my office and you behave and--” Harry whispered the rest as he closed the door with his foot, “I can’t let you look at personal files but those should be okay.”Harry sat a few files down at the side of his desk, hidden if someone happened to open the door. Not as if anyone would consider an owl reading. So, Draco read undisturbed and every now and then, pulled at another file - he was curious on the contents of the others. Were they all reports of suspects, write ups of interviews? The answer was simple: no, they were not.Draco stared at it. As much as Harry’s health was not great the last few months, Draco didn’t understand what he was seeing. This was a report from seven months ago. Unsigned by Harry and Collin’s request was stagnant now, for some permission on borrowing another Curse-Breaker to help alleviate some of his workload. And another one, seemingly a case file of some sort - again for the old fart. And still unsigned, non-certified and waiting on Harry’s signature.So, Draco started to dig in the literal sense. More pages pulled up and he cocked his head to the side and read more and more. Another file here and another - this for Richards, whoever that was - and more names showed themselves. And all unsigned. Harry hadn’t just dodged going to work, he hadn’t overseen anything he should have. A mixture of loathing and pity, fury and disgust and Draco shrieked at the outrageous shit Potter still was allowed to pull. Now he just had people in higher places. Why not put Potter on leave, give someone else the job to oversee the department while he got his shit together? Why-- and Draco knew why, and it made him wish he could start yelling a few swears. His owls shrill screams would no doubt be heard from outside. Harry tried to say something but his rage was too much. "What's wrong?"Hermione couldn’t contend with such a new policy as much as she needed to show her precious justice and fairness having Harry Potter ill and need time away from his station would be a thorn. A poisonous and ailing thorn every opposition would point towards. Who could possibly call themselves just if she’d worked our poor Harry Potter, saviour and all that crap to the bone?Draco grabbed his own made bundle and dived onto the desk with such force, the thud it caused made Draco think he’d have caused splinters. Keen he was not to look at what Draco left for him but as he read, the more it seemed to dawn on him. “What? Collins should have had this…” And then he was fidgeting with his glasses, taking them off and cleaning them, “I’m such a shitty boss.”So, Draco brought more. The ones for Richards, the others, the rest. “Fucking hell,” Harry breathed out, and now frantic he started to check them with a panicked energy, “Fuck. I’m-- the worst.” Harry started to sign them. Slow, as if deliberating and lost in thought. Draco couldn’t believe this, this laziness. Illness was a fine excuse for having shit work. Not working at all, letting the lower staff sneak and cover up for his lack of - of anything was infuriating. What the fuck was Potter’s problem? Not the Golden Boy anymore? How many Dark Wizard had escaped because of this bullshit?Collin’s documents weren’t spelled from the office. Nor was he called in neither was Harry given any indication he’d hand them over. They sat, just like they had unsigned in Harry’s office and Draco’s patience was done. He’d watched Astoria die and deteriorate and she’d fought. And seeing Harry succumb so terribly was a disgusting, loathsome, tainted thing Draco wanted to see none of. Harry was supposed to be the best of them. Was paperwork so hard?If Draco could spit his hate towards the inefficient and noncommittal attempt, he would. What Harry got was Draco attacking the door handle, desperate to open it. Harry scoffed, told him off and Draco just screamed at him. Trying again - the noise of his talons clashing against the wood and metal off putting. “Dr--Fornax, what are you--” Harry stumbled back, avoiding the bite that was meant for his fingers. Once the door was opened, Draco took them: the Collin’s reports and memos, the stuff Draco wasn’t supposed to see. He landed, unimpressed again at how Collins yelped.“What does it want?” Collins whispered behind him, trying to gain the witch's attention. She didn’t pay him much mind but huffed. She was Richards, then, going by the naming plaque on her desk.“It’s an owl. It’s delivering you paperwork.” Collins eyed him then, not as a threat. “Thank… you?” So, Draco left and returned to the ridiculous mass of files. “What are you doing?” Harry hissed, as if Draco was the one doing the wrong. Was he fucking kidding?Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Fool. Dumbass.Draco stomped and shrieked again even as Harry tried to placate him. How could he even think this was okay? How could he even think Draco was going to let this mountain of unsolved, waiting, pending permissions go? Richards got her batch next and she gave him no pet, no thanks but Draco preferred it. This should have been done. What even was this? How was the Aurors even working right now? Was this why it was Blaise who solved the issue?If Potter had his - Malfoy’s request still unsigned in all this mess, Draco was going to hex him. What if Blaise hadn’t pulled through? What if-- Harry had slammed the door shut so loudly it interrupted Draco trying to pick up another stack. “This is enough.” Harry wasn’t even looking at him, no, he was off to the corner of the room where the biggest pile sat waiting, pale in the face. Draco would get to it eventually. As if this was enough. Draco returned to the paper trying to practise his grip. He usually carried very little and if so a time did present itself that he had to offer a present or gift, then usually string wrapped and secured the package. Or one or two letters he could carry in his mouth. This was an inch thick, at least. “Stop,” he croaked. No, Draco hissed back. And Harry fell onto his chair and the room trembled. Papers started to drop to the floor, Draco jumped back watching and waiting. This wasn’t the dragonblood, no, Draco felt it. A ghost of magic going over him: Harry wanted him to stop. It wasn’t fire and itching, it wasn’t powerful and dangerous - like swords ripping through the air - it was chilling cold and a crying whisper.Why? What possible-- That’s when he remembered, when another piece slotted itself into the puzzle. Auror work was what caused Harry’s sleeping problem which caused the potion problem which caused the magic problem. So, it was here, then.Draco looked back to the tallest, a hulking and madly intimidating load of paperwork. Harry knew what was there, he’d looked at it. He was scared of it. This was neither embarrassment nor anger. Panic, barely keeping it together anxiety and Draco didn’t know what to do. The chances of him turning back to provide any calming words would fail immediately if anyone decided at that time to try and speak with Harry again. All of Draco’s hooting and shrills were seen as sarcasm or denials not agreements, not comfort.He needed to think. He had thought Harry lazy and it burned him. Reminding him back at Hogwarts where teachers would light up and coo over Harry Potter being just so good at his attempts and answers. All in all what was he supposed to do as an owl? Potter's hands shook and Draco looked back to the stack of files. Something was in one of them, something terrible and Draco was going to guess it might just be a report, a memo, a piece of evidence at whatever started Harry’s insomnia. What easier way to never contend with it than to literally bury it under everything else? Hopping over to Harry, whose arms seemed to be all that was keeping his head upright, Draco tried to coo - he was not going to continue - whatever secret lay in this room was still just that, hidden and Harry’s alone.“Just stop,” was the lame, broken reply. What could Draco do. He had no words. Again he tried to nod, let Harry know: this was it. The end of his help at reorganising this mess. Still, Harry did not open his eyes. Frustrated was what Draco was. How was he supposed to - well, desperate times and measures and all that. He chirped this time, nipped at a sleeve and tried for attention. All he received was a shuddered sigh and more guilt.Right. Another chirp, another attempt and nothing. Draco side stepped away, perhaps ignoring this would be the better option? That was cruel.Definitely cruel.Draco wondered how he hadn’t heard it before, the harsh and ripping sound of uneven and unsettled breathing. It hurt to listen to, like a vice crushing his quick extinguishing anger. He’d been wrong. This was all his fault. What was he supposed to do? How did he make this right? Although Astoria and Pansy were both at his side at some point in Draco’s life he hadn’t taken their involvement in trying to ease his wounds very well. Neither were the best, really, Draco liked ignoring problems. Harry probably liked ignoring them too going by how backdated his work showed. What if Astoria had ignored him during those tough days? This and that would be very much needlessly cruel. Right. Even with the inclination to do something, to ease whatever torment Potter was in didn’t matter if he had no plan. What if Harry didn’t even want him to do anything?Draco didn’t know what to do. He scratched a talon over Harry’s arm, trying again for some sliver of notice - if Harry was pretending he wasn’t here there wasn’t much Draco could do about that. Nothing, not even a twitch. Fine. But if this was a ruse, a pretend panic all fake and worthless then Draco was going to leave and never come back. Potter could find someone else to provide shelter.Nothing and Draco made a noise. Oh, he had done something awful. Really, really awful. He hadn’t thought-- he was sorry, he didn’t mean this. He didn’t want this. He had just-- He’d just assumed and-- Bugger. He was a terrible person. Owls weren’t very large creatures, Draco knew his body was a tiny, skeletal mess and his more gracious and elegant appearance was all feathers. Light and fluffy and so, so many in number. Squeezing somewhere wasn’t difficult per ce, just a bit of a wiggle here and there to move feathers and such. Trying again Draco perched himself in-between the space of Harry’s hands, palms digging into his eye sockets and his cheek. Chirping again, sounding more like a newly hatched owlet than a grand and exquisite ideal, Draco nuzzled, more than a little desperate. An action easy enough for an animal whose defining characteristic was the head twisting and turning without snapping nerves or bones.The reaction was Harry shifting, moving away as if tickled, removed from whatever mental angst and then he stilled and Draco wasn’t sure. Did that mean he was to continue or did that mean Harry was two seconds from launching him through the brittle walls of a Ministry office? Wouldn’t do that, likes owls too much, Draco reconsidered. Another chirp, another attempt to comfort. Relief was a strange emotion. It implied the worst was going to happen, in this case, Draco was going to be tossed aside. That wasn’t an unfair thought when he’d caused such distress. Draco would leave himself, distance and make sure not to encounter someone like him. So, when Harry did pat at the crown of his head and Draco chirped again because - what? - and Harry sniffled a little more and Draco settled in the end, on Harry’s slumped shoulder he was relieved. Harry wasn’t crying but it might have been a near thing, especially as Draco was greeted in return with a scratch.“Sorry, no more deliveries today. I don’t think I can handle it.” Draco wasn’t as naive to think this show of affection was purely such - and more to do with instinctive need to close his eyes as Luna did so long ago. Even as Harry slowed to a stop Draco made a sluggish attempt to open them. A few extra seconds was the difference between having a mask of emotion in place and the real ones leaking through. What had his curiosity now was what was in that stack of tightly bound parchment.Chirping again, Draco dropped to the floor. He left Harry to himself, keeping his back to him giving the smallest bit of privacy he could muster. This was all his fault. Now, Harry was going to admit this was the moment he knew his feelings weren’t real. Whatever was in that file had truly messed Harry Potter up, more than any dragonblood could. The Boy Who’d Lived (and Died) was scared and Draco hadn’t ever seen that before. He’d fought Voldemort - and this, whatever was there - was what he was having a panic attack over.It was strange to know Harry was scared of something. A little scary, really. Draco sat down, wings splayed on the floor around him and he thought. Thought of everything else but what had just happened.Now, Siobhan had ran from the Manor in a way Draco wasn’t entirely unfamiliar. She was scared or disgusted. Something changed at that party. Luckily for Draco his week of studying did allow him knowledge of who was there. Now, did he know any off the top of his head which were in the healing profession? No, not unless they were trying to come across as philanthropists and no one mentioned or asked anything about Siobhan. Not to Draco at least. And there was another possibility that perhaps, maybe, Draco was right to be paranoid. Perhaps someone else was at that party, uninvited but within the bounds of believability. Should Harry have postponed that confessed and bedroom eyes, Draco might have seen who it was. Harry sniffed and Draco stilled, staring at one word in a file until he heard his breathing level out. Moran’s file wasn’t what Draco was allowed to see - that was private and for Auror only. What he was allowed to read was the statement he made about the attack. A meek page written by Ron who wasn’t taking any risks at omitting anything. Moran hadn’t spoken a word; within the hour his father had appeared, furious - if Ron’s perception was fact and not assumption - and they’d left. And that was sad and worrying because if Moran hadn’t even been given a sentence, a slap on the wrist then it was possible he was simply waiting. Waiting for what? Perhaps his father had another target? Another panic, another thought maybe it was Scorpius he was waiting to use for the rings flared.No, Scorpius wouldn’t give Moran or his father much satisfaction. Most considered Draco cold and that, that coldness extended to his son. A small mercy. For if Scorpius did end up in trouble, Draco would give up whatever necessary. He’d torture, he’d kill. He’d do whatever necessary to see the boy unharmed because he was all that Draco cared for in this world. Clearing his throat, Draco turned around to watch Harry pretend nothing had happened. So, Draco followed. “Siobhan Goven has a record.” Harry sounded proud of his find, even though his voice cracked near the middle, as he pulled out a rolled up parchment file from the back of his robes. Anyone going by an alias did so for only two reasons: privacy and illegality. Which reason did Siobhan have for one? Draco returned to the desk and peered upside down at the file Harry read. For a Healer, it wasn’t a worrying list of sleights. Condemning and egregious and Draco wanted to know how she still managed to find work. ALSO KNOWN ALIASESThe box whereby the Auror was to write was too small. Several different penmanship styles, shades of ink and Draco tried to dig into every conversation he’d ever had. Did he know any of them? Did he hear anything as worse as assault or poisoning by a Healer? Was this really Siobhan Goven’s record? He rounded the file, keeping an eye on it as if prey. APPEARANCE The photograph didn’t look like the woman who had lived in Malfoy Manor, for one, the real Siobhan Goven was a redhead with freckles. Her school said Hogwarts and Draco knew that untrue from how she had behaved. “Where did you say you found this Healer again?” Harry rubbed at his neck and nervous now, Draco started to shift from one leg to the next. A friend of a friend, one who was a Healer who’d taken care of Astoria. That was supposed to mean trustworthy. “Whoever helped me, saved me, wasn’t this woman.” Harry flicked over the pages, searching and there sat a Healer license, stamped and dated and kept for prosperity. It was familiar to Draco. Siobhan had claimed she was a Healer of many years and Draco had demanded to see references and her license. Everything cleared. Why hadn’t this flagged up?Someone had impersonated Siobhan Goven, saved Harry Potter taken Draco Malfoy’s money, lived in his house. Draco tweeted at the gall of this woman. If he wasn’t so furious he might manage impressed. For now, he needed to know how much of a threat she truly was.“It’s not that big a deal,” Harry said and sounded so sure of himself, Draco shrieked and refused to believe an Auror couldn’t see how this was the worst outcome ever. If Harry thought another pet, another scratch was on the table - it most certainly was not - Draco relented to a pat by the side of his face. How foolish had he been? How utterly stupid--“Dra-- Fornax, trust me. She said she’d send for her things.” Well, that was true. “And we do have an owl that can return them.”...That was also true.“And that’s that.”That’s that. What a terrible philosophy in life. Potter was still weak and out of everyone, Siobhan - or whoever this bloody woman was - was one of the few who knew it. Draco couldn’t also then hand her his secret of being an animagus. What did Harry mean, that was that. Bloody Merlin, how could Harry be so on point at times and so far away at others? What did he expect would happen? Draco would find her, chat and everything then be magically fine?No, she’d fled. Someone, something was a threat. “Take a breath. It’ll be fine.” Draco didn’t wish for his optimism. Offering a vague and tiny distraction in the form of a scratch wasn’t too bad though, so Draco accepted it and ignored the dread building in his chest. Who had he opened his home to? He’d sought her out and ended up with a liar. It was a calming and affectionate action, as he’d told Luna. What he didn’t say, what he didn’t reveal is that Draco quite liked it too. More so than a friendly hug from Blaise or a drunken party-goer’s gratitude, Draco much preferred the ease, the knowledge that most didn’t touch an owl without great care.“She didn’t mean us any harm, she could have killed me and blamed you. I don’t think she’s bad.” Harry snorted then, “The real Siobhan is a piece of work,” Harry faltered and paused as he dropped the tied together pages and thought out loud. “Makes you wonder why she’d pretend to be a crap Healer considering she was so keen on having her own clinic.” Only one option then, Draco decided. The real Siobhan Goven, whoever she was, was dead and the fake took her chances at another life. A motive Draco could understand but didn’t trust: who was she, why did she decide this was better? The dread was back, tougher and thicker and stayed no matter how often Harry patted his feathers. Everything was closing in, everything was just a little too much. How was he supposed to navigate this? Sighing, Harry closed his eyes and Draco stayed still even as Harry rested his chin on his head and quietly - not as if anyone ever need to say anything loudly for an owl - said one word and Draco cooed back not wanting to disturb the normal Harry returning. He knew how to deal with this one. But an upset one? Never again--“Thanks.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Whether it was the overdone transformation or the daily brewing, Draco stopped sleeping. His neck ached, his shoulders were heavy and his bones cracked. Staring at the ceiling was not productive and if anything he hated wasting time. As much as he would like to rest his eyes he could tell lying in the dark this wasn’t going to work. Changing out of his pyjamas, he eyed his wedding ring on the dresser. Ever since Harry kissed him - and he couldn’t blame that one entirely on Harry - the ring had bit him. As soon as he tried to slip it back on, the teeth showed themselves and Draco couldn’t wear it as they twitched, poised to bleed Draco like livestock. Abandoning it wasn’t an option neither was shoving it into a pocket as if it was a loose galleon or petty note to be passed around. Nearly two decades he’d worn it and now it wouldn’t even entertain the idea. He had to wonder if Astoria would hate him for doing this.Unlike with the rest of the Manor, which had its old secrets stripped bare and acknowledged, most of Astoria’s possessions lay exactly the way they always did. Borrowing a link chain and removing the charm and glittering gems, Draco slipped the ring onto it. He couldn’t not wear it. He tucked the necklace under his clothing, the ring resting against his chest as he fastened it awkwardly in front. Once Harry’s infatuation burnt out, it was more than likely the ring would calm and be wearable again. Draco returned to his lab, brewed some more and hissed at the cramp. Waiting, heavy eyelids shutting on their own he hummed a tune and sighed. Boiling potions ventured into a static boredom, quiet enough for Draco to snooze, loud enough to keep his focus for a time. Siobhan hadn’t sent for her things.‘Yet,’ Harry had argued. Keeping awake wasn’t too easy and neither was napping, a restless energy overtaking: reading the same few lines proved unhelpful, watching cauldrons wasn’t stimulating enough and humming that song only made Draco close his eyes and want his bed. He twirled a galleon from his pocket over his fingers wanting this all to end. FireWhiskey and sleep deprivation killed inhibitions and Draco snorted, a scoffing ugly noise at the thought of Harry. He hadn’t done anything, ever, in the manner Draco was accustomed. His panic at the office should have made him cautious, never mind inviting Fornax back once they’d arrived at the Manor. Was he that desperate for company? To smuggle him everywhere and simply have Draco there. Not chattering, not interacting but simply being. His assumptions lately were wrong. Harry was supposed to hear his answer, flee and take Siobhan with him. Not this. Certainly, it wasn’t in any plan to kiss him back. What madness afflicted him? Sometimes, in the early mornings like this Draco wondered if he’d dreamt it all. And what a bizarre dream it was. He’d sent a vague thank you to the woman who’d interrupted. How far would Harry take this?The galleon fell to the floor and he didn’t have the energy in wanting to pick it up. So, Draco doodled with his quill and parchment. Upstairs, there was movement and the Manor gave him another sensation of warm bedding on his back.Harry was on his way downstairs - those took him a little while, and Draco paused in his half-rabbit half-dragon attempt. He hadn’t seemed to take the stairs often, even at the party. Probably not strong enough to rushup and down them just yet. When he started moving again, Draco returned to blacking out the fur and pushing the worry out of his head with each haphazard stroke. Behind him he heard the door open and close, the footsteps slow and heavy. “Thought I heard someone moving about,” Harry said, scuffing his feet as he walked. A lie this early; Harry was a Ward of the Manor. He could feel where Draco was in the same manner Draco could tell it was him. The blotted mess ran from the page and Draco shut his eyes again. What he wanted was everything to leave him alone. Why did everything and everyone have problems at the same time. It was inconvenience at its finest. “Can’t sleep either?” And he was too hopeful for such a prying question. Harry’s nightmares were back, Draco would bet his fortune on it. Shaking his head wasn’t an option, even as Draco dug his fingers into his neck. “Hm. Aches and pains.”“Oh, making yourself something.” Harry yawned and finally Draco managed to fight the pull of sleep to open his eyes and spy him leaning against the wall much like he’d done before. He was in clothing - day clothes that buttoned up and Draco wondered if Harry had been awake for a time and was simply waiting till Draco left his room. “A muscle relaxant would put me in a brain fog for days, never mind the complications abound with spells.” Not trusting himself casting complex spells was one thing, trying one on himself while he felt the call of sleep was another. Also, Draco was fine with this discomfort not so much the pain brought by those unknotting muscle spells. Sleep was a precious commodity, it wasn’t like missing a few hours back when he was teen or in his twenties. How Harry functioned without a peaceful night was a mystery. Another look over to Harry, who was near sleeping against the wall again. Perhaps, Harry was having a worse night than Draco was. No point for both of them to lose out. “We might as well test the first batch of potions.”Harry hummed and followed just like the potions that levitated at Draco’s side. Six. In all his tests and trials, only six recipes gave any hope. Draco might blame his perfectionism on that point but taking into consideration how Harry was drinking one every night for years, Draco recipes had taken a twist into unnecessary or rarely used ingredients. Anything to reinforce the primer and catalyst. Anything that could knock Potter out for a night without too many adverse side effects.Harry sat on his bed - the guest bed - and Draco set the potions down on the dresser. He had assumed Siobhan would still be here in case of more complex problems than not sleeping for a night. The guest room was cleaned up, looking less like a makeshift lab and back to the Manor’s usual standards. Harry had taken it upon himself to decorate the floor with some of his clothing and Draco rolled his eyes. This explained the hovel. As if hearing his thoughts, Harry moved to clean up.“Just so we’re on the same page.” Harry scratched at his head. “You don’t… mind, right? Me liking you.” A thought Draco could only assume as uncomfortable had him start to ramble as his face darkened and the nerves dampened down his question to almost an apology, “Just tell me and I’ll stop. I don’t want to be pushy. I know I am pushy but-”“Where’d that confidence from earlier go?”“You don’t mind?” He peeked up, hopeful. Looking more ridiculous over him holding his own clothes like they’d shield him from whatever lashing words Draco would unleash. “I…” Did he? Didn’t he? The detail he liked to not focus on - to forget - was he had experienced little emotions in regards to people. Pretty people, smart people, kind people, it didn’t matter who or what they were but Draco never felt a flicker of interest. Friendship was in short supply and in terms of romantic interests? Not once, not ever. And Harry had managed it - of course he bloody did - and it was bizarre. Because it was Potter and Draco hadn’t wanted to kiss someone since Astoria. And he had snogged Potter and hadn’t really thought to stop. And that’s as far as Draco really wanted to go into that line of thought.“...don’t really understand. Though I supposed if you say you’ve fancied me for years and that’s why you saved me from the Wizengamot I’d finally understand why you did it.”He bristled like a cat and Draco found it delightful. “I did not fancy you at Hogwarts or--”“--But you do now.”Was he smug? Probably. Did he care? No.“You are such a git.” Rubbing at his neck again, Harry moved back to sit on the bed this time facing the line of potions. “What potion's first?”Draco allowed the change of topic. Handed over Potion Number One which was a sickly yellow that sparkled in the vial. Hesitating after sniffing it, Harry knocked it back and grimaced. Potions weren’t any good if taste was a factor: only children needed those. Then Draco sat, pocket watch in hand and started to time Harry and make a note of any symptoms, wanted or not.His eyes were the first to lose their alertness, then it was clear he wasn’t quite able to keep his head up. And by the third minute, Harry Potter was asleep, collapsed back on the bed. Harry’s limbs would twitch violently and recoil. Restless Limbs wasn’t the worst side effect but it might lead to other problems, cramp and pain being a possibility. Potion Number 1 would need refined. The mumbling started not long after and then Harry jerked awake, a shout in the air. Draco didn’t comment on the panic in his voice.Three minutes to take hold for ten minutes sleep. As Draco checked a few other potential issues - darkened sight and fever, Harry blinked up at him and answered his simple questions well enough. Harry took off his glasses, folded them up and put them on the nightstand. Well, this one was a failure. Onto the next, a vial of green and wisps of blue which for once had Harry drink without any complaint or foul expression. And back on his back he was, this time scooting up so his legs weren’t haphazardly over the side of the bed.“I don’t think this is workin’,” he slurred and Harry flopped to his side, the crook of his elbow over his face he huffed and puffed. Not strong enough. Yawning wide, Harry sounded ready to sleep there and then but he never did. He grumbled and complained in a slurred dazed state and Draco scratched the whole potion off the list. What refinement and additions would achieve wouldn’t help that one. At least now, Draco was aware how strong Harry’s resistance to Sleeping Draughts truly was. His ego was a little hurt Harry hadn’t taken the first potion and slept like a well-fed babe. Notwithstanding, Draco was also very aware it was unlikely of any of the potions made would cure him for a full night. He’d thought each one might give Harry an hours rest. Between the two already administered, the total minutes resting was under quarter of an hour. Nothing was strong enough and as Draco cast a look back to the potions still available, he could only take a guess Number Four might be potent enough. “Probably best not to take too many within the hour.” Better let Harry’s system filter these potions out before he tried any of the others. “You could sit over here. Or’d you think I’mma do something.”Draco had sat on a reading chair as Harry has slept, the same one he’d read the books on while Harry was feverish and dying. Draco wanted to deny that accusation - that he was scared of Harry. But he had been, a few times. Terrified a handful of times actually. What did Draco really have to worry here? With Harry Potter unable to even lift an arm or cast threatening magic. So, Draco decided to prove his point.“Yes how fearsome you are, not even able to hold your own head up. The world quakes.” For good measure, Draco prodded Harry’s cheek and Harry grumbled and tried his best to move. He did not manage it. “I would think most would be concerned about being so out of it.” Draco crossed his arms and didn’t have to try to look unimpressed.“S’fine, I’m in soft hands.” An attempt at what Draco thought of as a shrug had him now too self-conscious and he turned, went over and he footered around with the potions sitting on the dresser. When was the last time he’d been complimented? His face prickled warm. No, he should not appreciate such a - a silly, stupid, dumb and just, silly compliment. (But he did) and his face grew warmer. “That’s not how the phrase goes.” No, it most certainly wasn’t. So, he pushed the giddiness away, stamping it down and dead. Harry wasn’t sure what he was saying; he hadn’t meant that. He waited for Harry to refute what he said but all the noise came from Draco clinking vials next to each other. “You’re blushing.”“And you’re hallucinating if you think you can see my face from there.” Draco slowed his movements because he was running out of things to pretend to do with them. He’d rearranged them four times already. “Turn ‘round then.” A man who couldn’t so much as take a step, raise his head - or his voice, now Draco thought about it - should not be capable of rattling anyone. Here be Draco, rattled and blushing. Potter had said he was pushy, more on point that it was a negative he should be pulled up on. A compliment might make Draco preen but he most certainly didn’t want Potter to start prodding fun of him because of it. For one he never got them enough to start to feel embarrassed over it. How Harry thought it was okay to tease him about being happy was weird and uncomfortable and Draco didn’t appreciate it. “Enough,” Draco bit out without much emotion that it might undercut any feelgood comments that Harry might ever say again. He held onto the dresser, a fist around one of the empty vials. “This is why I think you’re crazy for even suggesting anything.” His storming out of the room was interrupted by Harry.“Sorry.”Draco hesitated at the door. “I’m coming back. I’m going to collect the recipes I wrote and see what I can do.” Draco lied, he fled to the laboratory for an hour only returning with the parchment once he was sure Harry had it through his thick skull not to bring up what happened.On his return, Harry either pretended to sleep or was asleep so Draco left knowing when he wasn’t needed. Lotty was anxious over him wandering the Manor so early, and she set to a very early breakfast. She seemed to forget Siobhan was no longer here to cook for and made too much. And that’s when Draco blamed his parents for him not being patient in people responding. Siobhan didn’t message that day or the following and by the third Draco was snippy and sniping. In response, Harry had announced, with Lotty as a witness, he was being an absolute git. Was it really his fault when Siobhan could’ve lied again? What if they were losing her trail? What if--“I want to find out what happened too, worrying over it doesn’t help any,” Harry said between stuffing his face with his yet to find table manners. No subtle or obvious prompt deterred him from those awful habits. “We should go somewhere, leave Lotty to watch and see if she comes back.”“Is this another attempt to get me out of the house?” Harry liked to think he was being sauve and subtle, his shoulders hiking up said otherwise. Where did Potter want to go? A question which wasn’t unique to Draco after so many years of Hogwarts. Leaving the Manor might be the best way to start. Either Siobhan or Moran (or his father) would try their luck. “I’ll send Lotty away. The Manor should alert us - Wards and all - if anyone tries to break in.”Us. Normally he’d only include Scorpius with him. Draco tried to remove the image of swarms of people taking photographs and yelling, asking and demanding why Draco and Harry were some place, some place the same. And the stricter, stoic part of his brain reminded him about walking hand in hand down Diagon Alley and no one ever mentioned it. No one knew about it and so it was safe, for now to dally and do whatever he fancied. “And where do you have in mind?”Lighting up, grin and all Harry replied, “I was hoping you wouldn’t ask that.”“I’m just supposed to follow you?” Harry nodded and Draco scrunched up his nose, “No questions asked?” Another enthusiastic nod followed. Draco decidedly did not think about what happened in Harry’s room. Thankfully Harry seemed onboard with pretending it didn’t happen, for whatever reason.Harry's mood wasn’t what Draco considered normal after these eventful few days. Where was the accusations he was an awful person for one? All mentioned of what happened in the office was gone. Even Harry stopping to mention Fornax did not occur and he still offered to take him back into work. Draco refused, he wasn’t sure he would ever go back. Scaring Aurors was fine, seeing Harry not be Harry wasn’t.Chirpy, too happy. How much of this was forced? And if it wasn’t-- Wait.“Is this a date?”Spluttering and coughing, reminding him of the past Muggle Nonsense, Harry slammed his hand on the table. Draco sipped at his tea and waited. Sounding much too meek he continued, “No? You don’t sound too bothered over the idea.”“You’ve had your tongue in my mouth, a date isn’t much.”Hermione had said Harry had some hang ups on affection - or something like that - and Draco was sure the flush on his face attested to the truth of that statement.“Right.” Harry coughed again. “So a date? No questions asked.”How had Harry married anyone was beyond him. For once, Draco wanted to extend his condolences to Ginny. Quelling the obvious anxiety on Potter’s face wasn’t as urgent as Draco was finishing his morning cuppa. “It ends when someone tries to get into the Manor. Or you annoy me enough.” Draco finished the last of his tea. “Or someone annoys me enough.” He disliked the idea anyone would chat to him out there, in the world, but hanging around with Potter might embolden some. So, now he had a date with Potter. What a strange day this was turning out to be. Just as Draco was settling Lotty, telling her to spend the entire day away - not doing chores or maintenance, no not even the garden - Harry appeared beside him and said in far too innocent a tone for its contents, “You’ll have to lose the robe and cloak.”What was he supposed to say to that?“Forget it, I’m staying in,” Draco huffed but after another glaring contest and Draco hated he hadn’t managed to pull out where Potter was planning on going he complied with Potter’s barmy request. If Potter did snog him outside someone would see it, most definitely, Draco wasn’t so lucky to dodge the gossip-mongers for this long. “No, no, come on,” Harry laughed and pulled at his arm and in a whirl of colour and a pull that started in his belly, Draco was apparated away. “You’ll like this, promise.”The fact that Harry was saying this and all they were standing in was a red-bricked alleyway, with soggy newspaper stuck to the tarmac and the smell of foul, wet rubbish, well, Draco wasn’t keen to agree. “I don’t believe you.” Walking out, hand in hand wasn’t safe, what if someone saw? It made sense as Draco noticed where he was. Where Draco ended up he was certain no Malfoy dared set foot in. Muggles. Everywhere. Instead of stopping outright to stare the Muggles passed them, some glancing at their intertwined hands. Draco was quiet, not wanting to draw any attention as he was pulled along. Well, he couldn’t very well apparate out of this place. Wherever it was - though the dreary weather and street signposts hinted they were still in England. For all Draco knew this was a Muggle city a few miles out of the Manor. Inside this curious building - Muggles did like their glass panes and walls - such voyeuristic tendencies, Harry dropped his hand and Draco wasn’t sure why. Until he started to rummage in his pockets. He chatted with the Muggle, who sat behind a desk and again she pressed some box and out spewed some parchment from the table itself. Whatever currency Muggles used it wasn’t Galleons or Sickles or Knuts and Harry handed over both paper and coin and received that spat out parchment and Draco was very confused on what was even going on. A transaction to entertainment but Muggles had no Quidditch, no Dragon Wrangling. What did Muggles even do? What was Harry paying for? “Don’t look so worried. Trust me.”“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” Not wanting to bask under Harry’s smug grin Draco scanned around the room. Where there were several Muggles - and wow, did Muggles have naturally green coloured hair - and what was that in her face - and Draco was certain he wasn’t sure what a Muggle and he, a pureblood could possibly enjoy together. They were separated for a reason. Magic was not known to them for a reason. “Come on,” Harry said and grabbed his hand and pulled him away down a hallway, Draco was not panicking when the very parchment Harry had just been handed, was given off to another Muggle who ripped it and then - why, why why - handed it back. What kind of madness was this?And then there was the room. A Quidditch stand of seats all lined up neatly and what, to stare at a wall? Harry still keeping a hold of him, pulled him so they sat up at the very back, into the corner and as Draco sat down more people came in. And they too sat down. And a few more people, even Muggle children. And Draco wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do.He leaned over and whispered hoping the Muggles wouldn’t hear, “What kind of cult have you brought me to?”Laughing wasn’t quite what Harry did, that would imply some volume control. He howled, he cackled and Draco was concerned whatever Muggle Thing was going on here was already happening. A few people turned to scowl in their direction and Draco returned it in Malfoy style. “I’m going to buy popcorn, stay put.”Draco was silent. So silent he wished his presence would disappear between these tacky seats and devour his very memory of this. Whatever this was and why he was here. Thinking his questions might be answered was not wise; he had more questions especially to what Harry was carrying in a bucket. Food. In a bucket. What were Muggles? And then the lights in the ceiling dimmed and the wall lit up. Things descended into a confusing and - definitely not - interesting time. What was this? It was a bigger box like from Harry’s house. And he was watching these things with strangers. And eating, whatever those puffs Harry was eating. Why Harry chose in dumping this mountain of crunchy sweets - if that's what they were - and Draco wasn’t sure he could eat them. Out of everything he’d heard about Muggles, he did not entertain the idea they were intelligent. They walked by magic every day and never questioned the lies handed to them because they couldn’t comprehend something as easy as a flick of a wand creating movement or fire or water. And it was sad.Yet they’d made this, this box. With people inside it (but not really). How Harry could be so sure Draco couldn’t really comprehend. They held conversations with each other, Wizarding pictures didn’t do such a thing. Whatever he was watching wasn’t like the box in Harry’s house, this was louder, much bigger in scale. A woman nearly died and some guy rescued her and he was too shocked to say anything because that was cool but more than that the other Muggles didn’t so much as blink.This was a cult wasn’t it? Why such apathy? He shot a look down at the bucket of puffs and realised he’d eaten most of it. A cult, a mind-controlling cult is what this was. What didn’t help was when an explosion - and again, such apathy - Draco flinched. How could they all be so calm? A huge Muggle Transport had just blown up, plumes of smoke and raging fire - and the heroes of this story weren’t even safe yet. “Enjoying it?” Harry came so close to whisper in his ear, Draco stilled. Nodding, not sure he could stop himself from asking only one question, Draco kept his eyes on what was going on. He was quite proud of himself to remember the little box the people used was called a phone. Harry had one. Wasn’t he an enlightened sort now. (How severe a death his father would have if he ever saw this).By the end of it, Draco was exhausted and energised all at the same time. He wanted answers and Harry was content to give them. At least he wore a strange expression, a mixture of confusion and amusement.“What was the name of the Transport they drove into battle?” “A tank.”“And the hovering one?”“Helicopter.” Draco nodded, kept this knowledge to himself. He’d have to find a way to speak more on these Transports. There were so many (why were there so many). Draco panicked a little as Harry walked off, as did the other Muggles - staying seated while the names scrolled seemed to be a call to leave; maybe his name was up there as a reminder to leave. He hurried to keep up with Harry, questions spilling out as he tried to prioritise them. “How does it work? How exactly did all--” Harry abruptly stopped and Draco nearly tripped over him. The little box - phone - was handed over and Draco blinked. What was he supposed to do with this? Without answering, Harry tapped on the screen, wrote out a few words and then there sat more words, not on parchment. “Here. Read. Tap the blue words to go to what it is. And do this to go up or down,” Harry said and touched the screen again. More words appeared and Draco did so. Read. Tap. Read. Tap. Read. Every now and again, glancing up to see where Harry was and then down again to read more. Every now and then he was certain he was slowing down and sped up intermittently. Then it was back to the phone. How could Muggles put a library into such a small, tiny device and be amazed at a simple levitation spell? He wouldn’t say it was amazing. Never. Not even Potter could rip those words from his throat. Every now and then Harry would try and steer him a certain direction and Draco followed. Sitting down was automatic, he smelled food though it was greasy and heavy in the air and Draco didn’t care for it. What even was this ‘box office’? Was this where the boxes came from? A factory of sorts. But for the little boxes. Tap. Tap. Tap. No, he was wrong. Quite terribly so. Harry had done a good thing not answering his questions for too long, this was one less thing for him to giggle over. He heard sighing and Draco continued to read up on this actor. This… Patrick man - who had an alias and it would seem Muggle’s plays were on this screen. Tap. Read. Oh. There were Muggle plays. How did that even work? How did they exit stage if not by apparition?“Draco? Malfoy? Blondie? Oi, you?” Harry rambled, his cheek leaning on his hand. “I shouldn’t have given you it,” he huffed and slouched onto the table. Draco hummed, agreeing. Not even knowing most of the words - electron, neutrons - he was exposed to more Muggle History and Lore than even his Muggle Studies had tried. Draco had thought so little of Muggles. Wait. There was a page on Merlin? The Merlin? How did the Ministry not know about such a breach in--Oh. They thought he was just a character in a book. Relief was a nice find in this nest of confusing lines of knowledge. Draco only noticed Harry had gone when he returned and he sat a tray with various foods on top. Nibbling on the food was difficult. It didn’t look good, it didn’t smell good. He tried it after Harry urged him to just try it. “This tastes awful.” He shouldn’t have tried it. “Quick, warm and cheap.” Harry shrugged and Draco shook his head, no. This was murder to all delicacies ever consumed. Lotty would need a raise or some form of thanks for not reducing food to this, this bland mush of fat. Harry didn’t seem to mind and ate this tasteless slop without pause, decimating most of the brought food himself. Clearly, The Boy Who Lived had no taste buds or palate. Draco set down most of his food after a bite. “Those aren’t good qualities of food but of a bed warmer.”Harry wasn’t the only one to laugh. A Muggle passing by did too and another turned to give Draco a bewildered stare. What was strange, in that it was hurtful, was Harry apologised on Draco’s behalf. Even though he’d laughed and this another Muggle had too, Harry still apologised for Draco’s behaviour. And Draco scowled because this was the problem: Harry would always have to check him in public, even the little things Draco didn’t care circulating. A constant need to make sure Draco was shown as sorry and apologetic was not a life he could live anymore.Sorry, not sorry. He was happy to host parties and chat he was not happy to have his ever move taken apart and accessed again. “Hey, Harry, look at you,” The Muggle said and sat down next to him. Harry hadn’t introduced himself. This was someone he knew, some Muggle. He might have been younger than them, Muggles aged rather fast if Draco remembered correctly with most not even making it to 110-years old. He was stocky and brunette, unshaven and possibly taller than Draco. Draco decided he disliked him immediately. And Harry started chatting away, grinning all the same and now Draco was under no illusion that was for him. Still, it was jarring to sit in this place, to eat this food and have his only link to this world chat away to some Muggle who’d eavesdropped and now - now Harry was talking about the movie they’d seen. “And your friend? Little fancy for this place, no?” Harry was under his arm then, roping around him like a lasso on a horse and Draco wanting to scoff at the over-friendliness. “We’re kinda in the middle of something.” For the first time, Harry’s good mood flagged and Draco’s poor mood plateaued. Now, he had thought Harry was far too happy to see this Muggle, who hung over him and chatted only to him. A lie Draco even feel for - Ginny was right, Harry could lie. Not for very long, going by how he grimaced and scowled and tried to redirect any attention towards Draco back at him.“Wouldn’t mind being in between you two. You slumming it tonight?”“Don’t proposition him,” Harry snapped. “Come on, I’ve already--” Harry elbowed him, awkwardly tried to pull away. The Muggle didn’t seem to notice as much as Draco’s stare. “Hey, now, now. No need to be jealous. Is that the type you like these days?”There it was, the implication this Muggle knew Harry best, knew him longer and had many secrets to share. Draco wasn’t fooled, wasn’t taking the bait and yet Harry still tried to defend him. “I’m just saying, if he’s so bitchy, well, you know what they say. Why don’t you introduce me to your friend?”This was familiar too. As much as the comments were directed towards him, this Muggle’s attention was on Harry, his focus only ever returned to Draco when Harry was looking. And unlike the ‘film’ he’d watched with Harry, Draco didn’t need defending from anyone. He was in no need of a chihuahua yapping in his defense because as a man who’d had to take on newspapers and the public, this was nothing. “Date.” Harry corrected, “He’s my date.” An apology was sent his way in the form of a pale face and a touch of panic. One Draco dismissed because it wasn’t necessary, not yet. Out of the two of them Harry was the one most uncomfortable. “I have no use for names I’ll never use,” Draco said. He didn't want to know this Muggle's name, not even how he knew Potter was worth knowing.“Where’d you find this one? Or did he find you? He seems out of your league, Harry.”Oh, please. As if this Muggle was even aware of what league Potter was in. This was a man who’d saved every bloody Muggle from here and across the Channel and the bloody Pond. Kindly shut up, Muggle; Potter had saved him too in that regard and it was pathetic to see this Muggle see Potter as just another nobody. Like a Malfoy would spend their time with a nobody.Tapping on an empty pouch which had housed the mushy and tasteless chips, Draco asked, “Do me a favour, go buy another one of these.” Harry tensed and Draco was overjoyed at the gulp. He should have sent this one away sooner. “Don’t you trust me?” Draco might have sounded perfectly normal to this Muggle but Harry would know. He’d hear the sarcasm dripping from those words, see the smile that meant nothing.A deep sigh and Harry slid out of his chair and as he left muttered, “Play nice.”Ha.He’d try.The Muggle tried his best to seem nonchalant but Blaise was a better liar than this. This was Blaise with a Cackling Pox and a fever having drank a tankard of the vilest FireWhiskey. “You’re a little high maintenance for what he normally goes for,” The Idiot said, glancing over Draco. Wait. Was that supposed to be an insult?Oh. How adorable.“I imagine we’re very different people.” Draco sat back in this awful chair, the un-wood and un-metal which Muggles seemed so comfortable in, hurt his back. “You two are new at the dating scene, right? Am I right? Both of you sat here, and you on your phone and he was blabbing away-- you don’t have a connection love, try someone else.”Draco’s eyes wandered to Harry’s phone in his hand and turned it over and around repeatedly. Harry’d handed it over so willingly, said nothing of his rudeness. Apparently to Muggles he’d managed to achieve a social faux pas and he had to wonder how terrible his behaviour ranked. Saying the wrong name bad or using the wrong spoon bad?“Are you quite finished?” Whatever this manipulator thought would be Draco’s answer it was not the bravado of a Ravenclaw or the actions of a Gryffindor or even the placid Hufflepuff way. No, Draco was entirely on point; he didn’t need any magic knowledge to beat this idiot out and away from Harry. “Good.” Draco removed some lint from his arm before straightening back up in his seat. Harry’s grimace from earlier resurfaced in his mind.“I own several acres of land, a Manor and a French Chateau and have known Harry since school. Am I supposed to be intimidated by your lack of personal grooming or do you think Harry will sleep with you out of pity?” Draco continued. The nostril flare didn’t stop him, or the growling swears or how he heard Harry returning, trying his best to defuse the situation. What he didn’t expect was the drink going over him but all it did was make him scoff. Muggles were strange. How was this anything worth doing? He could magic this away in seconds. How did Muggles typically react to this? Because a spectacle was made, that all the other Muggles hushed or whispered and watched, and two other Muggles rushed over - a manager throwing the other out, another checking on Draco’s wellbeing.He’d thrown some sticky sugary drink over him and a petite little Muggle was acting as if it were in fact acid. She discussed something with Harry, ‘comping’, and eventually the manager allowed them another parchment that claimed a free meal. Harry tried his best to seem upbeat but as they’d walked off to find a quiet and Muggle-free area to apparate back, he stopped, miserable and guilty.“I’m so sorry.” Shoulders slumped and scuffing his shoes said it all and Draco decided to ignore this one too. It was only when, in this quick found alleyway without prying eyes, Draco remedied it. “Why? It all went according to plan.” Cleaning up was so much easier with a spell and Draco was dry and free of the faux-orange smelling juice. “Now we have a free meal next time with zero chance that previous paramour being there.”“I can’t believe you.”For a moment, this was all over, the date, Harry’s feelings, everything. All he could think was Harry was disgusted and horrified over what he’d done and now, couldn’t stand him anymore. Because really, that’s what was going to end this - Harry’s morality and Draco’s self-preservation would always be at odds in the long run. How could Harry ever think this was a logical scenario? How could Draco ever entertain this idea in even the slightest-- Harry laughed, shook his head and that was that. Okay, perhaps the Muggle had shaken him a little; he posed the question of what would it take for Harry to lose his interest? Another, more aggressive pursuer, someone who hoarded and demanded and huffed if Harry spent time elsewhere? Or someone simply the opposite of Draco. They only shared a few interests such as Quidditch and really, many wizards and witches were such avid fans Draco didn’t feel that was good enough to add to the list. Even the points Draco assumed were correct, were similar, had fallen and burned to ash. To think, he’d once believed Potter spoiled for attention when in reality starved might have hit more than closer.Harry took hold of his hand again, examining it and it settled the panic for another time. “You aren’t wearing your ring,” he murmured it, almost as if he was speaking his waylaid thoughts to no one but himself. Noticing it and talking about it where different subjects, his mother once taught him. Bringing up a fact he’d noticed probably days before wasn’t someone who was confident in what they were saying. Cautious is what they were.“Not on my finger, no. You’re fault entirely,” Draco said back subdued as to what was going on in Potter’s head. To make a point, he tugged at the thin chain from the nape of his neck and it sat a little too warm against his clothing, gleaming. As soon as Draco’s hand went just a tad too close, the fangs appeared poised and ready to strike.Harry invaded his space again, and with a delicate touch as if the metal was close to snapping Harry checked it over.While rotating it in his fingers, he must have spied the inscription, although Draco wasn’t sure how familiar Harry was with Latin. Cheaters never prosper wasn’t the most endearing to wear but Draco had done so with pride all his own. Each time Madame Greengrass wished to see it, she’d shut up for the rest of the evening. And that’s when Harry’s behaviour was explained so easily too: Harry wasn’t wearing his wedding ring either. Oh. That was — an emotion Draco wasn’t entirely familiar these last few years — and he did what Malfoys did best. He tried to hide it away under the guise of another and wait out Harry’s inquisitive nature.The very first galleon-chaser Draco met after Astoria’s death was Jasmine. A dark haired beauty who wanted equally beautiful things and Draco would never admit to anyone how he’d fallen a bit for her act. How she’d worked her way to receiving a few gifts here or there because Draco’s loneliness was sated for a time when she smiled (fake) and complimented him (fake). And even in her want to own and consume whatever she wished, she made it abundantly clear: she wasn’t prepared to chance being seen with a Death Eater. Hidden away was the ever hope maybe, she might change her mind, might change a little to suit Draco’s own needs. And Draco argued, even Blaise avoided public displays of affiliation so he couldn’t ask for much more. And here Potter was, jeopardising the lie with his wife and Draco hadn’t even asked that from him. Hadn’t mentioned a thing - because anyone who wanted Draco to hide away like a coward in the night agreed. No one wanted to be seen with a Malfoy or a Death Eater. And Draco had agreed with them too.Harry was an oblivious sort but sharp over certain details (the Auror training less so and more having to defeat Voldemort before he graduated Hogwarts). Right now, Harry was reading the words but Draco struggled, casting a vague hope it would keep Harry’s attention until he could sort out this, these, emotions. Biting his lip he kept quiet. Just breathe and ignore the rising bloom of affection in his chest, blank the questions from his mind and stamp out the pulse his ears. Potter hadn’t noticed yet. Self control was in short supply, or rather all of his control couldn’t stop the strained hiccup of breath in his throat. And then Harry did notice, maybe not everything - how could he - and it was the only protection from those eyes Draco could find. The sheer concern on his face was quite extraordinary and Draco hadn’t a clue how to speak on the bizarre notion Harry was this - this attentive, this invested.The ring’s heat seeped through his clothes, bearable but uncomfortable. Draco wasn’t keen to remove it.“Hey,” Harry said and frowned and Draco wasn’t sure he ever felt so utterly vulnerable before. His hands fell from the ring and he spoke softly as if Draco would apparte right there if startled, “What’s—?” Draco knew what question would follow and he couldn’t allow it to form. This time, Draco kissed him. Maybe out of dread of having to answer with words he wouldn’t be able to say. He appreciated the care, as much as Harry might not see it the same way. (What did Harry have to lose when they were in a Muggle world after all). Harry froze against him - Draco could only hope the distraction was great enough than asking questions. He didn’t. Sighing, pulling back Draco admitted this wasn’t his most shining moment. His head hung low, without an easy excuse waiting in the wings to flee from this embarrassment, he couldn’t look at Harry anymore. What was he doing? Forget Jasmine, this was far more awkward, more damaging. Another rejection by Potter, bloody pest. Huffing out a breath - Draco felt it across his cheek more than hearing it, Harry asked, “What’s wrong? Did he say something to you? He did, didn’t he?” “It’s not about the bloody Muggle.” Draco putting a stop to the rising frustration with his own. Anger was better than hurt, always. Well, now he was confused. What did Potter want?“It’s not?” Harry gulped, nervous. “Can we go back five minutes?” Yes, because Draco kept time turners on him at all times. As if he wanted a repeat of last (thanks Scorpius). Upon seeing the scowl, Harry backtracked, “Not actually-- pretend I haven’t overthought everything.” How did one pretend to go back in time? Was this a Muggle expression?“What could you possibly be overthinking?” Draco snapped. What made him reject Draco, again.“I thought he might have lied and you--”Was he still talking about that Muggle? Wait. No. Was Potter having a laugh? “You thought I could be manipulated by a Muggle? To kiss you?” Impressive was one word for this sheer idiocy. Harry’s arms started to flail, his face reddened and Draco found himself feeling less like a fool. This wasn’t embarrassing for him, at all, not in the slightest, not anymore. “Okay, saying it out loud sounds--”Ridiculous? That Harry was as thick as a plank?Draco laughed, one that ripped its way out of him and he couldn’t stop. And it's good because all of those other emotions were thrown underneath its weight and now Draco was tearing up. All this because Potter was far too much of an Auror who’d spent his life finding out lies and reasons why people's behaviour changed (and he’d assumed the absolute worst too). “I will never let you live this down.” Draco wiped at his eyes and took a steadying breath, oh boy, this was too good. “I was just trying to be careful. You could ignore it and we could try again.” Sweet, if he was an idiot. Sure. As if Draco would let this prime material go. Draco might have wanted a kiss then but he didn’t want one now. No, a flustered Harry was worth more than most.“Oh no, Potter. My ego is wounded, I might never recover enough to ‘try again’,” he said, dramatic and hamming it up to an obvious sarcastic tone that even Harry would know he wasn’t serious. “You’re enjoying this.” Harry’s voice lost some of its hysterical nature and now he’d settled neatly into being the target of banter. “I could be enjoying a kiss but sadly, my easily manipulated self must be protected from the Muggles.” Draco couldn’t even keep a straight face and burst into a series of giggling laughter. He was so glad he came out on this Muggle-date. He closed his eyes and sighed and said defeated, “You’re not gonna shut up about this, are you?”“Shut up and not tell everyone how you saved me from the mean-faced Muggle? How ever will they know about your daring heroics?”“Bloody hell,” said Harry under his breath before, tried as he might, a smile struggled to stay off his face. “I was actually worried for a second.” There was no point revealing Draco wasn’t so confident moments ago. He wasn’t going to have that talk, here, with Harry anytime soon. Best keep ignorance in this scenario. “Keep going then, I’ll get you back. Eventually.” So, Draco did so. Instead of returning to the Manor, they both slipped back to walk amongst the Muggles. While Draco had his fun and Harry didn't mention his soon to be revenge again.“Woe is me, such wily Muggles. Thank Merlin you were there, Saviour of the Wizarding World or else I'd have lost everything.” Back and forth, Draco prodded Harry as they walked around and his face seemed permanently red, not once did he scold or dismiss Draco again. If anything his amusement wasn't hidden very well.The Manor blared of an intruder in his head and both Harry and Draco flinched. He was relieved as Harry said, still a tad too careful, “Are you quite finished now? You wanna go back to the Manor?” As if Draco needed words for that last one.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Give them time to think they’ve managed to slip in undetected,” Draco explained as he counted in his head. A minute passed, then three, then five. Harry truly was a man with an obsessive and one-track mind. He settled down to take rest, low on the ground but not quite sitting on the concrete but it was a close thing. Calm and from what Draco could only guess, psyching himself up for a potential duel. An impatient or nervous bounce of his leg and Draco reminded him. He wasn’t going first. Which wouldn’t be safe, not for any wizard but not a Dark Wizard who wanted Draco dead too with an ailing Harry nearby. The plan was simple, Draco would go first - it was his house and the Manor would shriek if the Head of House didn’t return first in the clammer of a break-in. If there were no Dark Wizards, Draco wouldn’t return and Harry was free to follow. The argument for either wasn’t solid but this was the only way Draco could take responsibility for the potential Moran and his father awaiting to hex him. If Draco was knocked unconscious or harmed too much for a fast retreat then it would be placing Harry in more trouble. On the other hand, having Harry go first was a ridiculous notion. What if his strength waned after his apparation and unable to escape, died in the Manor. Returning to let Harry know it was safe was also suspect to whoever was sneaking around. What if it was Siobhan and she only used that moment to leave again while Draco retrieved Potter? Not knowing who it was left too much up to chance and Draco wasn’t the only one nervous. Even being stubborn Harry could see sense: Draco would go first and only then would follow if he did not return. So, armed with his wand - Draco left Harry in a self-righteous fury at being the last to help. His hands were cold, clammy and Draco sent a quick glance behind. Potter might just decide to apparate despite what Draco told him. Pretending the intense green was from interrupting their now ended date, Draco apparated without another word. The Manor hurled another accusation at Draco, someone was here and they should not be here because— Draco scowled. This intruder wasn’t at all on the list of who Draco thought to slip into his home. Siobhan was supposed to be the succeeding rat. Or Moran. “Blaise?” Draco called out, trying to pinpoint where exactly he was. Blaise was loud like his magic, all show and not much substance. Out Blaise popped from one of the rooms ahead, wand in hand and he seemed confused at first. Then he put it away, eyeing Draco’s all the same. He might know who but not the why and so Draco kept his wand at the ready. “Glad to see you haven’t been cursed and hexed to pieces. Was worried there for a minute.” Blaise snorted, crossed his arms and said, “I mean, should I be worried? You leaving the Manor and your potions on stasis? What’s going on? There a sale for griffin guts on or something?”Was Draco really in the Manor so often not being here was seen as dangerous and worrisome? Maybe he should spend some more time away. “No. Why are you breaking into my house? And I hope lying about checking up on me isn’t the best excuse you have.” Not lowering his wand yet, Draco waited for a reasonable reply. What a disappointment. He wanted to see Siobhan again, not Blaise - he could see him on the worst day of his life and not bother. Siobhan was very much time sensitive and gone if Draco didn’t bribe or goad her back. Angering Blaise was typically an undertaking by idiots. He wasn’t the type to have certain sensitive points guarded and hidden. No, he was a man where half his jokes might very well be true and his promise to the truth wasn’t anything close. “The vote’s going to make some people bare their teeth, y’know that right? Asking for the damn gossipfest here was a stupid idea. You’ve painted a target on your back and--Harry appeared with a pop beside him and Draco wanted to hex his poor timing. That hadn’t been the agreed upon five minutes. That wasn’t even two and a half. Preventing Harry from misreading the room, or more specifically his wand still out and a bitter Blaise nearby, Draco was forced to put it up his sleeve and hope Harry wasn’t going to ask too many questions.“What are you doing here?”“Funny, thinking the same thing.” Blaise’s suspicions were alive, him squinting at Potter as if he was trying to see how all the pieces fit. Granted no one, not even the ever impressive Hermione or the strategist Ron could foresee him and Harry returning from a date. Blaise wouldn’t guess that one. And if he did, Draco would renounce his Malfoy name right here. Draco didn’t try to dismiss the passing sulk between the two. Neither Blaise nor Harry could hide their negative moods and petty tantrums. He asked again, phrasing it as a passing thought and not a key point of logic which put Blaise in poor standing, “If you were here to warn me of political change I don’t see why you couldn’t just send an owl instead of trespassing.”“Didn’t think I was, thought you were in.” Blaise shrugged again. “Then when it turned out you weren’t, the house got a bit uppity and I heard some windows go, thought that might be - well, someone else.” The Manor shouted in his head Blaise was a liar. The image burning was Blaise had apparated in and already armed and cautious. Curious, since Draco was not hexed as soon as he arrived either way. He’d assumed resistance but not from Draco. “The Manor doesn’t take kindly to liars.” Neither did he. For once, Blaise didn’t try to undo the damage of his words or actions, he scowled. “Paranoid much? If I wanted to murder you, I’ve had ample opportunity. You’ve gone absolutely nutty wasting in this place. Potter, mind telling him he’s sounding insane?”For another second, Harry’s silence made Draco want to gulp and have the ability to mute his ears at will. What could he say, Draco was used to suspecting everyone and their motives. Being told he was a bit on the paranoid side by someone who supposedly liked him would hold much more weight than a prissy Blaise who said whatever came to mind when annoyed enough. What did he do if Potter did think him too suspicious? “Is he right? Or were you expecting to see someone else here? Like the pretend Healer.”Doubletaking, Draco was about to shush Harry about seeing what the Manor pushed at him. How would Blaise even know her? That she was staying here (and by extension did he then know Harry was staying here?) What kind of leap was-- Blaise’s anger fizzled out replaced with him puffing out his shoulders, confused but guarded.“You knew she was a fake?”Well, this was too much. While Draco had hidden away his wand, Harry hadn’t. Self-preservation must’ve kicked in then as Blaise shook his head and spoke, quickly. “Nott told me. He said he’d met the real one before, that the woman on your arm at the party was a con artist. I was trying to help you, believe me.” The imploring wasn’t necessary, Draco didn’t listen to pleas of mercy. Never had, never will. Nott hadn’t shown himself at the party, an irrelevant factor - someone at that party was in Nott’s pocket, at least one. “No help needed. You can leave now.” Blaise didn’t hang around. Left in a combination of bitter insult and indignant surprise, really what was he thinking just waltzing in here. So, Blaise had ruined his plan again. Well, they still had the rest of the day. Maybe Siobhan had already laid to rest she would never return and retrieve her things. “She’s a potential murderer too. Still I don’t get why’d she would pick a Healer with so many issues.” Harry disarmed, shoving his wand in his back pocket leaving half jutting out. “I know why, Potter. That’s not the problem here. Someone scared her off. I want to know who.” Siobhan Goven had been recommended to him. By another Healer who’d cared for Astoria. It should have been enough. Yet it wasn’t, she’d somehow managed to coerce, bribe or blackmail her way to being put forward for the more discrete jobs. Now that one made sense; she wouldn’t be found out if even the patients refused to speak of being seen for any ailment. Who could accuse a Healer of illegality who no one ever admitted to seeing?“Nott maybe?” Harry going through highschool friends was not the most efficient way. Not when most of them hated him now.“Nott wouldn’t try to protect me even if I was the last person--” But dear Theodore Nott had tried to protect him, in some manner. He’d given him a little note, filled with terrible hints and the worst attempt at hiding his own identity ever. Siobhan, the fake one, was younger not quite a cherub’s lying face but it fit. “That’s--” And yet, Harry wasn’t in need of a Healer long term when the note was passed; he’d only started using the Casting Trees then. So, how could she possibly see Draco Malfoy would be in need of a Healer? Was she the one after the rings and had simply chanced upon a way to slither inside? Parts fit, not everything and Draco grappled with the possibility it was and wasn’t the woman he’d let into his house. And the worrying thing was, he hadn’t really checked on the Artefacts, not even half of them as this stranger wandered his house. Biting his lip, he tried to calm down the choking sensation, how his tongue felt too fat for his mouth. Because why would he check on her behaviour when he’d offered her a spot in his house? When Lotty was here to oversee the Manor and its baubles? After Harry had dismissed the crude and well, illegal switch of the potions before, Draco ignored her. She was less a person to him, he saw her station: Healer. She would care for Potter and whatever would come along with her was irrelevant. Stealing his property didn’t make sense. Was her need for a new clinic so warring she’d abandoned Harry Potter in the middle of a job, her job, and disappeared despite awaiting Draco’s final payment when Harry was cured? Did that really sound like the woman who’d try to play both Harry and Draco in handing over more money?She did have such easy access and now she was gone. So were the rings still here? “What’s wrong?” Harry cooed over him in a manner Draco shrugged off. He didn’t like how Harry’s attention was no longer on accusing him of doing misdeeds. Dealing with those were easy, familiar but concern? What did Draco do with concern?“Siobhan might have stolen something from me. Leave, while I check.” Harry acted like he’d slapped him across the face. “You don’t trust me,” Harry stated it out loud, for both of them to hear. “I’m an Auror. I’m literally the guy you tell if something Dark was stolen.”Maybe he could show the Artefacts to Harry, have him destroy them right here and now. But he didn’t. Because how could he? Harry wasn't powerful enough to destroy them. For decades, Malfoys were married off, each party claiming love and like, respect and tolerance and each and every pair who’d ever beheld them murdered and tormented each other. Harry might not want the power in his veins, the prophecy about him but giving Harry a way to crack open Draco’s head was too much. Too much to assume he wouldn’t just ask once. Just once more. Then it would never end, always one more question. One more request. That’s how they started. Harry liked him, yes. Harry was a decent guy - more than decent. But both types of men: loving and decent were twisted soon enough. His lack of forward thinking, his lack of rest made his mind weaker. How weaker? Draco couldn’t say but he also wouldn’t bet his own Will on it withstanding ‘a quick question’ the rings would whisper to him.And they would whisper, like the blue did to him and Scorpius to wear it. From the notes he’d read and research conducted anyone without Malfoy blood simply was beckoned to wear and ask - because it would give them the truth, one they desperately wanted. And infatuation was a greedy thing that wanted everything, every little secret and still it would never be enough. Draco blinked at the idea, Harry might become worse if influenced. Carefully, Draco chose his words. Deliberating on them for a time before he met Harry’s eye, his brow crinkled and pout a near thing. “Not with this, I can’t.” If he could protect Harry’s mind, his own Will and Scorpius’ then Draco wouldn’t hesitate to hand them over. When had Draco ever been competent in protection? It confused him more than enraged or hurt. For once, Harry didn’t try to appeal he should know, that somehow his feelings were entirely linked to having Draco reveal all at all times. No words which said, ‘I’m sorry’, ‘it’s okay’, ‘that didn’t hurt’ or ‘maybe next time’ passed between them. Harry picked up his faux-smile and the shrug which followed. “I have to go speak with Neville for a bit anyway. Let me know if you need me.”Flooing to Neville was less to do with announcing his exit and return and more on the overuse of apparation today. The way he shuffled, paused and his pace was sluggish told Draco whatever adrenaline Harry was running on was gone. Neville would probably provide tea and a comfy seat so Draco was in no way concerned. When would Harry return? What could he say, he had to move fast. How long would Neville and Harry chat? What did those two even discuss?The Manor returned to how it used to be. No house elf or others milling around the corners, no other voices raising against the arches. His footsteps were loud against the marble. What a lonely and quiet Manor this was after all this time. Over the last few months, he’d had to deal with a fair amount of noise - including the destruction and repair of his own roof and rooms. Out in the open, in clear sight the fakes were still floating, teasing and beckoning any thief and Draco froze at the blue and black swirling back. That one wasn’t a fake. The one which floated by it was. A switch had taken place. A switch which Draco hadn’t accounted for and now this was the bigger problem than first thought.Malfoy Manor had only ever told him about one forced entry inside. It hadn’t dared interrupt to say Scorpius was home. The glass was removed with a flick and few words and the real ring, shining and gleaming and Draco looked away from it. “When was Scorpius last here?”A replay of Scorpius arriving in the Floo, alone, flashed across his mind and was gone before Draco could grab the small details of the scene. Someone had arrived after but the Manor, unprovoked by a Malfoy guest meant it hadn’t needed to remember anything else about the guest - only that they were there by Scorpius’ express permission. Albus was on the wards, allowing him to apparate inside if he so wished. So, it couldn’t be Albus because why use the Floo? Or had they both used the Floo just in case Draco was in?Scorpius had switched the two rings and Draco gulped back the whisper, calling for him to wear it.Hadn’t he told Scorpius never to share this information? What was he doing? How much had he told this Mystery Guest? Scoffing and grimacing in disappointment, he should never have told the boy about them. He should have remained in the dark and now, someone else knew about the biggest weakness to all Malfoys. “Why did he put you out here?” Only one was switched. Hoping the other half of this pair lay inside the walls, Draco went to find it. Splitting them up was a fair idea. Not so much when both were located in the same premises. A swirl of brilliant blue caught Draco’s eye and he stared as it whispered in his head: “I’ll make the tension drain from your shoulders,” the promises said. It held little sway, even if Draco’s shoulders from hunching over the mobile phone earlier in the day tightened and twisted like a spell was cast upon them. His muscles cramped, and Draco backed away. They were much stronger than he remembered. It did beg the question: what was in the locked away room? Did it lay empty and bare, no more magic keeping these whispers to one part of the house?Voices, loops and remnants of those who were unlucky enough to have this shackled to them, bled into his head like too many people trying to voice their opinion at once. “Why is she so mad? What’s he hiding? Not worthy, not worthy, she was never worthy of my name. He wasn’t what I thought he would be. Why wouldn’t she just do as I say? He never listens. He’ll learn now. She still isn’t doing it right. Everything must be perfect. Malfoys are monsters, putrid and I wish them all a gruesome death. Malfoys are the greatest, we really are the best. I know what to do. She’ll suffer for this. I’ll kill him for that. I saw what he did. She saw what I did.” Petty squabbles were as large and as damaging as affairs, publicly known and deranged treatment. Draco remembered his father mentioning his Aunt Bellatrix once, claimed the blood crazy and his mother was terribly lucky. He’d remembered so much of how his stern father spoke but couldn’t for the life of him, recount how his mother had even reacted to the accusation. To him, she probably hadn’t said anything, it sounded like what she would do. “Shut up! What a load of nonsense. I don’t need to hear your ramblings of days gone.” Draco forced himself to look away despite the compulsion to stare and listen for more. What an insight to family history-- Draco shook his head. No, he was not so easily swayed and he started to shut up his mind. Focus on one task, let nothing else in. Inside the wall, hidden away was another fake and another genuine. Scorpius had only switched two rings, not four. He’d muddled the pair up and Draco laughed. It was nice to see he was considering how to limit the damage the rings could cause. This wouldn’t do, Scorpius was never one lacking impulse and fleeting ideas - if Albus knew he would have channeled this energy elsewhere. Or at least mentioned doing so caused more problems in hiding in plain sight. Not when these blasted Artefacts demanded a Malfoy to wear them. No, right now. He might change things once more and gleeful at the idea the Mystery Guest was no longer here to see - Draco levitated the real rings away. He moved fast to placed them in his laboratory, under a thick sealing and silencing charm underneath the soil, burying it and apologising to the Devil Snare which was budding. And then he went to Astoria’s jewellery box, took two rings and paired them with the fakes. Transmorphing them to look like the real rings of Celius, they should trick most. Now, he really couldn’t wait until someone tried to steal them. He would thank Scorpius later. The Floo sounded and the ebb of Harry’s magic in the wards returned. Draco washed his hands, scrubbing the dirt from under his nails before going to meet him. “Back already?”Neville and Harry were never attached to the hip in highschool, not like the Golden Trio which always were seen together and every falling out was easily documented because they’d be alone. So, his hour long chat was noteworthy since all he was sure Neville could discuss for that length of time was botany related. Harry did as well in Botany as he did Potions. “Just keeping a promise. Is everything okay?” Really, how he looked around the Manor as if he was waiting on something popping out was silly. Did he think Draco would just have what was potentially stolen with him, on hand for him to see?Draco was going to tell the truth until he didn’t. “No, nothing’s different. Feeling up to more potions?” Harry moved to sit down, not on a chair - like a normal person - no he just up right sat on the floor, squatting down and falling back, arms loose and using his knees as resting posts. “Not really.” Harry started fixing his glasses, in that way where he shifted them around his face without much change in how they sat before doing so again and again. “We could go out somewhere else. You don’t have to spend all your time here. Maybe she’ll come back if we wait more.”“I like being here.” Harry frowned and Draco mimicked him because what a terribly obvious lie it was. “Where am I supposed to go? Muggle London?”“Wherever you want to go.” And that was the problem. Where did Draco want to go that wasn’t filled with people? Who might ask questions, tell tales to the papers, cause more problems? When all Draco needed to do was stay inside. No one could accuse him of being too arrogant, too meddling. Quidditch results could be read in the paper, highlights bought in picture form. Would he like to go to a Quidditch match? Yes, of bloody course he would. Would he tell Harry? No. Because Harry would try and take him there and Draco couldn’t handle that level of -- of people. Wrestling with the idea of leaving again, a second time in the same day was an alien idea. Really, he didn’t shop but for once or twice a month and those were only for when supplies for his lab dwindled. Maybe Potter sensed it, or saw it on his face - Draco wasn’t sure what to say. Harry did look ever tired. “Suppose potions it is then.” With great effort Harry got back up on his feet as if he’d been asked to run around the Great Lake and wouldn’t last a step.When they reached the stairs, an awkward silence began. Sighing - and Draco could only take that as a sound against him, somehow irking Harry and ruining whatever little daydream he had about today, Harry started to pat himself down and said, “Do you want to read my phone while I potentially sleep?” It wasn’t the best idea. They really should leave and wait for Siobhan to show. A gauntness had taken over Harry’s face, a fatigue more than a simple nap would fix and Draco nodded. Harry was tired. He mustn’t forget, Harry was a patient. Still ill, still not sleeping, still not really Harry. Maybe his feelings were a mishmash of too little sleep and him being the only one around. Siobhan would have to wait. Not wanting to sound too eager, Draco walked towards Harry’s room. The other potions should still be there, untouched. Unless Harry had more explaining to do. “I suppose.” The little box was worth more than a Muggle library it seemed. Just how much information did the Muggles know about the world? Really, Draco wasn’t a fool to think he’d been given the device to entertain him. No it was simply to remove his attention from Harry having to go up the stairs, one at a time. One step, then the next leg stood alongside it and only after a few seconds did Harry try the next one. A slow, frustrating process. So, Draco kept his eyes on the phone, skim reading and standing just behind him so to stop any falling or fainting. Huffing and puffing by the time he reached his first quarter way up, Draco still pretended to read - what was this page even talking about networks for? Did Muggles have their own Floo system? Halfway up the stairs, Harry swayed, gripped the banister.“I’m fine. I’m fine.” Harry tried to power through his shortness of breath. Liar, Draco scooped and arm and didn’t let go of him until he straighten back up, his face not as flushed. Bloody hell, and he’d managed to come across competent enough to duel. Draco decided then, Harry wasn’t going anywhere near Moran or any of the seven people who’d attacked the first time. By the time they reached the top of the stairs, Draco could count the beads of sweat on his forehead. Potter was staying in the rest of the night. Going out again? Was he barmy? Only the silence stopped when the box moved in his hands and a loud tone-deaf song played. If anything, Harry seemed greatly amused by it. (Draco did not flinch). “Harry,” Draco panicked, “Harry, your phone is yelling at me. I didn’t do anything.” The very face of the phone had changed, as if it were somehow angry, ready to spit and swear at him going by how it convulsed - until he read the name Neville and then Draco was simply confused.Resisting to launch the phone as far away from him as possible, Draco handed it back as fast as he could. Meanwhile Harry turned to sit on top of the last stair, wearing the same grin that might split his face.What occured after was Harry talking into the box, a feat Draco was aware happened but had never seen. It made Harry look madder than anyone at Mungo’s. He could hear another voice but it wasn’t clear and all he had to go on was Harry’s side of the conversation. Eavesdropper wasn’t what Draco wanted Harry to think about him and he tried to ignore it. He did. Honest. He was staying here so Harry didn’t accidentally tumble and break his neck. “Neville, yeah, that’s right. Really? Cheers. No. It’s alright, you’ve done loads. I’ll send you a picture. Yeah. See you. Hope so.” It took all of Draco’s self-control not to ask about what was making Harry’s eyes practically twinkle. Paranoia said it was a conversation all about him - or was that his ego? Offering the phone back, Draco refused, not now when he knows it might yell at him on someone else’s behalf. “Ready or are you going to rest on the floor like a house elf for the rest of the evening?” Crossing his arms over his chest and trying to look unimpressed at the way Harry opted for the floor - opposed to furniture was a habit he hadn’t seen or could understand - Harry shrugged.“Hard choice that.” Harry was far too pleased with himself and Draco blamed the phone call for it. “Care to help me up?” He shifted forward, as if Draco would fall for this act. “I’d say you were up to something all on your own,” Draco said, watching and waiting for any clue. Now, what could Neville possibly tell Potter which would perk him up so fast? Harry laughed, a noise which fluttered at his stomach and soothed his ego.“Exactly. Good. We can go tomorrow.” He wiped his hands on his trousers before stretching up to the banister and hauling himself up to his feet. Despite the effort needed, the way veins raised under his skin Draco didn’t help, didn’t offer a hand because he was certain Harry didn’t actually want help. He’d sulked and bickered and hated how he hadn’t walked up those stairs to the lab before. “I didn’t agree to anything, anywhere,” Draco sniffed. Out of range to fall down the stairs meant Draco didn’t need to hover near either and slowly, he returned to going towards Harry’s room. “Too busy are you?” Harry shouted at his retreating back. Ha, as if Harry had much of anywhere to be either. “I’ll have to check my schedule,” Draco retorted using Harry's own words. He left Harry laughing as he ducked into the room to check on the two potions. He’d try Number Four first. Maybe Goven wasn’t here but it didn’t mean Harry’s problems were gone so Draco would have to work harder and faster to alleviate the sleep issue now no Healer was around. When Harry collapsed onto the bed Draco sat the newest potion down. Without taking in the sight of the new one, Harry drank fast and after still gasped for breath. “Dizzy? Or are you drowsy?”“What’s the difference?” Harry was pulling off his glasses, folding them into themselves. “Your balance or your eyes?” Draco didn’t need to ask as Harry’s eyes shut, his arms limp. Easing out the glasses from his slack fist, Draco placed them on the nightstand. Harry was asleep again. Good. Draco took his stop on his reading chair and kept the pocketwatch out. Less than a minute to sleep, it was getting closer. But as Draco saw, even with this one, Harry’s nightmares leaked through. Not violent or stressful enough to wake him. No flinching or muttering but his face remained permanently in a frown. Draco was giddy when the clock continued to go by hour after hour. This might be it. This might be the one. Every time Draco saw Harry twitch or shift in his sleep he held his breath - just stay sleeping, it was obvious he needed it. Three hours passed and Harry groaned before he blinked awake. Well, it was much better than previous attempts. To see how rough the after effects were, Draco asked him, “Are you okay?” He went over to check just in case Harry was too out of it to answer.“Go away,” Harry said into his pillow, a murmur and slur all together and Draco tried not to feel tired at the sheer sound of it. His temperature wasn’t high and his forehead was dry to the touch, not in any danger of any magical metabolism shocks or overheating flashes. His eyes were dimmed and dark and Draco wondered if he’d awoke not because the potion had worn off but because the nightmare was too much and managed to force its way into Harry’s dreamless sleep. The wedding ring radiated heat, more than what was comfortable against his bare skin and yanking it out to lay against his clothing, he sighed.Astoria was bed bound near the end.“Want to go back to sleep?” Draco whispered back not entirely sure if he should allow it. Harry’s answer was a hum. He glanced at Harry’s shoes, still worn and really they seemed older than Draco and Harry combined. This was a man who was worth more than Draco was - maybe even twice over - and he still wore these awful scuffed shoes. Probably best remove them. “Lot--” Right. Not here. He was quick in casting a few spells to remove them and to pull the cover a little higher. The nights could be cold in the Manor not just because of the weather but Muggle plumbing might be a fixture but their heating was much more intrusive and not added. Draco closed the door and suddenly unbalanced, he wondered what would happen if this was it. The real solution to settle Harry’s insomnia and in time cure his nightmares. What was another point, a more pressing matter, Harry had two homes, two places other than the Manor to stay. When Harry left, it was doubtful he’d want to return, not here to this place of horrid memories. Every half hour, Draco checked to see if Harry was still sleeping, still breathing. Until Lotty returned and he hid in his own room for the rest of the night. His makeshift necklace rested on the nightstand, too warm and heavy against his skin to wear.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Draco stared up at the sign and wanted to run. Not apparate because there would be no way to focus on anything other than the words: The Careful Adoption of Magical Creatures Association going around in golden and silver script. Harry stood at his side, smiling and not understanding the sheer horror this place brought Draco. For one, he remembered going inside when he wanted to purchase a crup for Scorpius and yet he’d already been blacklisted. And it didn’t matter what Draco said, didn’t matter how much he asked to speak with someone else or question what and how his whole line were barred from owning something entirely stupped in pureblood elitism. Funny, really that out of all the things his father had bragged about, never could they be good enough to buy a crup. “This isn’t going to work, Harry.” Draco was pulled out of the Manor in the earliest hours, when the foxes still shrieked and their cubs played with each other out in the open. Draco wanted to return home and never leave. Harry didn’t understand, but he would. It was the worst of the whole thing really. Because Harry would push and push and pull Draco through those dark double doors and chatter away to everyone about buying a crup and then he would see-- see what a blacklisting really, truly meant. It was embarrassing not in the way a half-revealed secret was but a wave of shame like the scars on his arm showed everyone. Looking at him, Harry wouldn’t be deterred, he didn’t understand. When Harry realised he really couldn’t buy a crup, he hoped he wouldn’t be too disappointed. Draco wasn’t keen to share his excitement, even at the chance to see one but adoption was never a possibility. Never. “Mr. Harry Potter! A pleasure--” Draco was stuck because it was the same heavy, grumbling man that rejected him years ago and Draco wanted to vomit on his newly shined shoes. One look told him it wouldn’t change, no matter who was with him. Not even the Saviour of the Wizarding World. “I’m sorry, the Malfoy family is blacklisted. He will have to stay here while you see the available hounds and pups.”“He’s coming with me to see them.” Harry smiled and dismissed him in a way the receptionist must not be used to as he stumbled to argue.“No, sir. He really can’t go see them. Any of them. He will wait here. Please, Mr. Potter, why don’t I call Freya and she can show you our new litter?” Oh, no. A litter of tiny little crups? Newborn crups? Urgh, that would be adorable. Maybe it best Draco didn’t see - he wasn’t sure he could keep his expression cool and neutral. Cool and neutral, right. Draco sighed out a steady breath, he was just standing there, Harry was talking and still he hadn’t felt like a kid letting the adults talk even when he was a kid. So why now? “I’m buying it for him. So we have to see them.” Draco’s eyes went to the ground and he hated it. Hated how he knew what was coming and he wanted to interrupt to say Harry was here by his means. Harry was kidding, he would laugh and the receptionist wouldn’t do what everyone else did.“I’m sorry Harry Potter but by saying this it does mean we must add you to the blacklist too.” Whether the smile was fake up till now or Harry really hadn’t considered it to be this difficult, his cheer faded.“I saved you, didn’t I? From Voldemort?” The receptionist didn’t just flinch, he nearly whined at the name. “I am sorry, Harry Potter, I’m so sorry. It’s policy!” He stood and then fled down the hall, “I’ll get Freya, sir.” His loud stomping through the wooden floorboards rebounded off the narrow hall. Now was his chance to escape. “Harry this isn’t going to work,” Draco said again. He wasn’t going to plead, as much as he was close to doing so. Having been here before, having the expectation and having it crushed and killed Draco didn’t want to do it all over again. He couldn’t hope for this. He couldn’t even begin to hope for this. “We only have to see them,” Harry said again - that was all he kept saying today. All Draco had to do was pick one. All he had to do was take a photograph. Harry better not think of coming in here with his Invisibility Cloak and stealing it because even if that was tempting - quite bloody tempting, maybe that was it - Draco would be found out in days at the theft. Highheels clinked against the ground and a grey-haired witch with squared specs made a beeline for him. “Harry Potter, a pleasure.” Freya shook his hand, smiled at him and only did her facade drop when she spied Draco. “I’m sure you’ve been told Mr. Malfoy why we cannot allow a crup to be purchased by you.”“You did say last time I was here. Excuse--” Harry wouldn’t have it. He grabbed onto his elbow and Draco froze. Oh, this was the worst idea. Second only to snogging the bloke at a politically charged function. “I’m here this time. So we can go see the crups that are available.”“I understand the sacrifices and I appreciate all that you’ve done Mr. Potter but I cannot let Draco Malfoy or any Malfoy near our creatures. Please understand it’s for the safety of everyone.”Draco was pretty sure he was okay with that explanation. What was he supposed to say? He shuffled away, just far enough Harry had to let go.“No.”“Mr. Potter, please be reasonable. I will have to ask you to leave the--”“So you are being discriminatory about your clientele, Freya?”“Nothing of the sort! Blacklisting is to make sure poor owners, ill-equipped witches and wizards don’t have a crup which could hurt Muggles. Malfoys have always been very vocal on their disregard for Muggle safety. Blacklisting also makes sure just because someone has money or a large quantity of friends, they can’t bypass those rules. No matter who that friend is, Mr. Potter.”“This is what’s going to happen. We’ll leave.” His stomach dropped, he hadn’t really considered being able to adopt one but hearing Harry give up was disappointing. Now, now surely he saw how useless-- “Once we sit in a room and get to see the available crups.”For once Draco wasn’t regarded as something eagerly to throw from the premises. Freya looked him over and after her lips nearly thinned to nothing, she spoke, “And we’ll have no repercussions of this? You won’t purchase one? You won’t try and slander us--”“No. None. I promise you.”“Then he will not speak. Mr. Malfoy you will not speak to any of those crups.”Harry near bristled at the order and Draco could hear how confused and bizzare it sounded to him - he didn’t seem to know much about crups. He knew, Draco could hear the implications he was untrustworthy in every which way.“What why would--”“Crups are wizard companions, Potter. Purebloods are their favourites by nature. Although, if I were to say I wanted one of them then they’d be quite happy to walk outside and tear anyone apart who tried to stop it.”Of course, Draco was not impulsive as much as he’d like to be and calling on a crup and demanding its loyalty might be easy, incredibly easy all it taking a few works. “He won’t say he likes one in particular but he’s not going mute because you don’t like him.”Freya looked down her nose at Harry and he and Draco didn’t appreciate it. “Draco is blacklisted and the fact that he’ll be in the very same room as unadopted crups is miracle enough and I will say, Mr. Potter if not for what you’ve done, I’d have had you blacklisted from the second you spoke to Jeff.”Gulping at the prospect of being allowed to even see the blighters was enough to silence Draco right there. He wouldn’t make a noise. The threat sadly didn’t glide over Harry’s head as all attempts should when dealing with someone who held something which was needed. “Blacklist me and I doubt anyone will be pleased to work with you.”Too much, too heavy handed and Freya might just repeal her good graces so Draco pulled at Harry this time, glaring at the badgering way Harry would speak with some people. He really didn’t do well with authority figures. “Let’s not interfere with crups being adopted. That’s not going to help anyone.”Freya shot him another foul look and Draco met this one only because Harry seemed to be losing his temper. Whatever plans Harry ever had was never completed because of his poor lack of self-control.“If you try to steal or force an imprinting--”“I’m the Auror department head, I’ll make sure he plays by the rules,” Harry interrupted her and Freya walked off. Only because Harry followed her did Draco even think they'd managed to talk their way into a room of crups. So no adopted crup, Draco sat down and waited. It was more than he had before. There was no way he should be disappointed. It twinged though; he supposed hearing Harry's ridiculous bravado might have rubbed off and made Draco just a little bit more expectant. What was he expecting to wander in and be handed one?“Trust me.” Harry sat by him but not too close and Draco wondered why. Until the door opened and out came a barrage of crups of varying size and colour, Freya standing looking anything but pleased. Draco was going to die. Die right now and be perfectly happy. Because the amount of tail wags he received, so many curious snouts coming over to sniff at check if he was pureblooded - they didn’t seem to bother much with Harry for once in Draco’s life - and Draco took on the responsibility to give them all at least one pat on the head, a head scratch. Whatever the bloody things wanted, really, and Draco hated it. Because he had an audience so bit into his tongue and didn’t speak. Didn’t say a word, or make any strange noises at them or coo over the little black noses or the swishing tails. Some even had forked tails still that hit others in the face as they crowded around. Or the excited barking over seeing him. And then it was over. As each crup came forward to receive a pat, a vague hello if anything then Freya and Jeff would order them away and they would go, no hesitation. A full room of crups dwindled away fast and Draco could tell they were ordering the ones they thought the most rare or pure away first in case Draco did try something. It left the encounters cold and Draco waved them away, knowing he wasn’t wanted here and simply wanted to go home. “Mr. Potter, a word,” Freya snapped at him and Harry told him to stay and sit for a bit and Draco was grateful. Grateful because as he collapsed against the seat he’d been perched on, he realised how exhausted he was now. This hadn’t been a good idea. He sighed out loud and closed his eyes. He just wanted to pick them all up and run off with them honestly. Quidditch was his favourite sport but give him a crup to spoil over any day. Maybe he really would be a shitty owner. Maybe he would do-- a noise, repeating and constant had Draco open his eyes and look around.Thwump.Thwump.Thwump.The noise came from under the armchair. And the first thing Draco saw was the wet glistening nose. “You’re a half-breed aren’t you?”Its colourings weren’t common for a purebred crup, flaxen with a white undercoat. The typical spots and blocks of colour were nowhere on this one. The black nose was sunburnt brown for the most part and a crups usual solid black eyes were instead brown and big, not intimidating in the slightest. It stayed hiding under the chair, clearly used to being told to piss off by anyone lucky enough to be inside here. It tried to watch Draco, without making eye contact and would look away every few seconds before trying to look back.Draco glanced back to the door. He’d said he wouldn’t command the crup, wouldn’t push for it to imprint on him. He waved the beast over to get a better look at it but it didn’t move. Another look back before Draco moved slowly to sit in front of the chair. He wasn’t brave or stupid but an opportunist and this was one he was happy to gamble on. Thwump.Thwump.Thwump.Its tails - long and fuller than any of the others and not a trait of a crup but of a Muggle companion - hit against the chair leg and Draco wondered how that couldn’t be sore and as Draco lent down, the tails sped up, until the crup was shifting from side to side in a barely contained excitement. This one had its two tails still and so it must have been confined in Wizard only areas. Most crups had the second removed so to blend in with Muggles just in case. Finally, Draco could see why this one was ignored. A large crup was only a bragging point if it was a purebred, going by how the texture and flow of the fur -- Draco could guess this might be a quarter-crup at best. Anyone who came here for a crup didn’t leave with a quarter-blood. He let the beast sniff at the air before it crawled on its belly forward. Draco gave the creature a well-deserved pat on its head once it poked its face out from under its hiding place. The crup wriggled out of its hidey hole and sat up, open mouthed and panting - the goofiest, most ridiculous smile on its face. Now that it was standing proud and pleased, Draco could see it wasn’t just a little bigger than the typical crup. No, this was easily sitting at his hip if he stood up. The fur wasn’t close cut either. Thwump. Thwump. Thwump. The tails didn’t slow down any, they just swished on the ground, still managing to hit the chair. Where did Harry keep his Invisibility Cloak? He was taking this one. They could go to France. France had lack laws for crups.“Sorry,” he told the adorable beast. Really, he wouldn’t mind even a quarter-pup because clearly no one else would adopt this one. “You’re stuck here, aren’t you?” If Draco had been brought into this room as a child, he wouldn’t have wanted this either. Because it wasn’t what a crup was in the Wizarding World, it wasn’t like the other status symbols or small and easier to hide away. Draco Malfoy wouldn’t have given this one a second glance back in the day. Time changed perspectives and Draco was certain this one was meant for him: clearly the breeder at least had taste - the bloody thing was practically the same shade his hair was.It whined a high pitched noise that ripped an ‘aw’ from Draco’s throat. And no one was here to hear that, thankfully. And it tried to move closer before resting its chin on Draco’s arm as he made sure to commit this to memory. He wouldn’t get another chance. It didn’t lick at his face and when it moved, Draco expected slabber and drool to ruin his clothing but it didn’t do that either. Okay, he wondered if he could apparate with it. Could someone apparate countries? France couldn’t be that far away. Sitting back on the couch, no longer having to beckon the animal out of its shell, it followed. He tapped his fingers on his leg as he watched it - he really shouldn’t say anything. Just in case. He promised he wouldn’t just mutter a commanding ‘you’ and be done with it. The problem remained if he did, it was always possible the animal would be destroyed to stop Draco from owning one. No, he wouldn’t risk that. “Don’t take any nonsense if anyone insults your fur - it’s the same colour as a Malfoy, that’s obviously better than all those other mongrels.” The crup listened, and Draco stroked and gave it all the pats the other crups missed out on. The door reopened and flinching away, Draco was relieved to see Harry. “They left one?” He seemed to be unable to pick what to look at - Draco or the crup. He closed the door too carefully that Freya or Jeff must still be near.“Was hiding under the chair,” Draco whispered back not wanting to go just yet but knowing the time was approaching. He really would have to leave this one here. Harry sat next to him - he tried to give it a pet but it moved away to sit at Draco’s other side and rested its head on his knee. “This one then?” Out came the phone and Harry took a few pictures before pocketing it. Draco didn’t mind, he continued, he gave a playful tug to the beasts ear and it jumped back, tails going everywhere and its front low on the ground. “I thought you were kidding when you said purebloods were their favourite. They practically ambushed you.” Harry seemed to find something funny, “This one really likes you.”“Of course it does. It has taste.” He wasn’t sure if dogs - the Muggle pets trotted - crups certainly didn’t. This one certainly was trotting around the room, pleased and a tad arrogant over all the attention. Draco agreed to himself - it should be happy, this crup was the first in generations that had even seen a Malfoy. “So I have good taste too?”That wasn’t the first fishing expedition Harry had went on. Looking back, Harry had given him some bold and obvious signs he was interested and others were more… well, Draco smirked at the idea, “You just want me to compliment you, don’t you?” Harry went red and quiet and Draco debated on what he was supposed to say. Surely any compliment said then would seem disingenuous and only said to appease Harry. “I didn’t mean it like that,” Harry said after a time. Harry didn't speak but the crup did. Howling and grumbling low for all of Draco's attention - really his duty to provide it to such a creature - and Draco monopolised the time. This was the first and last time he'd meet a crup. Now, he just had to remember every detail, everything so he could rewatch it in a pensive for years to come.The crup’s ears twitched and off it ran, nuzzling and scratching at the door before it opened and Jeff looking grim and he mentioned they should both leave. Now. Draco didn’t need to be told again. He grabbed at Harry and apparated as soon as they were outside.Throwing himself down on the couch, Draco said with little dramatics, “I don’t know if that was a special type of hell or heaven.”“That blacklisting stuff is crazy. That Freya woman actually lectured me.” Draco had to look over to see how Harry had even managed to say that with a straight face. It certainly made the jittering energy of being in a room surrounded by pups and hounds he wasn’t allowed to have a release in the form of derisive laughter.“You’ve never been very good at being on the receiving end of a lecture.” Whenever he did receive a lecture and not extra House Points. Harry didn’t find it funny and chose to sulk all the while Draco found his new found energy too much to contain. He wanted to go back and redo it all over again to give different crups different attention and spoil them more.He had work to do though and the laboratory and all its potions and ingredients were in top form now Draco held a recipe which did - not perfectly - allow Harry some rest. He brewed another one, this time altering the percentages of bitterwort and hoping the increase in potency would end Harry into a proper dreamless sleep. Not one where the nightmares would show up as the potion wore off. Lotty was not there today either, sent away again to see if Siobhan might chance her luck and so Draco missed his lunch and then dinner. He’d pulled himself out of the lab around seven, after pouring another Number Four potion and flicking his wand having it speed away to Harry’s room for when night fell. He was hungry no more than he was sore. His shoulders might as well have cramped indefinitely and Draco perched on the couch in the sitting room and wished them gone. All this leaning down and over was doing awful things for his posture. Closing his eyes he tried to ease the pain by stretching his neck but it didn’t help any. “Didn’t you make a potion for that?” Harry’s question broke his careful concentration and he’d jumped, a pain flared down his neck. “It’s not permanent. Obviously,” snapped Draco not in the mood for silly questions. “Want to know how Muggles get rid of it?”Sighing, Draco had to say he was a little sick of Harry wanting to show him Muggle life. Their ways were long and tedious. Cleaning clothes wasn’t just charming a few items and leaving it; it was another machine, and then another machine after that. Then folding, by hand. “It’s not another bloody box is it?”“No.” Harry became uncomfortable again and Draco paused to hear why. He was shuffling and scuffing those horrid shoes again. “You’ll have to take--”“The robe and cloak off?” Draco rolled his eyes, he hadn’t really thought to remove them when returning. He’d half expected Harry to demand to go somewhere else. He’d mainly been attached to his phone the last few hours. Draco scoffed and sat both to the side. In a manner closely resembling his animagus form, he watched Harry walk around the couch and Draco wasn’t even sure what he was supposed to think. “You have to look forward.” Harry was far too pleased with whatever this Muggle thing was and reluctantly Draco turned back around and stared at the closed Floo. He wasn’t expecting Harry’s hands on him and he leaned forward, away from their unfamiliar warmth. “What’re you doing?” “Muggle Things? Trust me, you’ll feel better.” Harry’s faced morphed akin to a mixture of nerves and embarrassment. “If I do it right.” Was this really a Muggle Thing? He had heard some Muggles push on someone’s chest to keep them breathing and heart beating - that didn’t really work, did it? - and this sounded just as useless. What did he have to lose? A sigh, trying to sound irritated and demure of this whole affair, Draco turned back around. Harry wasn’t going to throttle him at least. “I can stop if I’m no good. I’ve not really done it much either.” Well, what a vote of confidence. “Could you just get on with it?”The heat seeped through and for the first few seconds, Draco considered this very moment the worst idea he’d ever had. It hurt, the bones clicking and the muscles solid and knotted and furious over being touched. It changed as soon as Harry eased off only to start again. If Draco was an impulsive sort like Harry, he might have listened to the part of his brain that told him to push back or close his eyes or bloody well grab at Harry’s hands and push them further down or demand him to do it harder. No, what Draco did was started to tilt his head, occasionally, slightly, so Harry wouldn’t ignore that side so much. And Draco kept his lip firmly between his teeth because when a section of tension practically disappeared after months of being there, so obviously being there and being a pain, it was the only way to stop it. Stop whatever noise was stuck in his throat and Draco was not making, never ever. “You have to remember to breathe by the way,” Harry laughed and Draco in response huffed one out but found it difficult to stay silent. He curled his hands on the edge of the couch, desperate to keep in control of all his facilities. Whenever Harry pushed hard enough, a tingle, fast and buzzing would go down his spine and he struggled to keep his eyes open, mouth closed and focussed. Harry found a stubborn bit and he dug at the top of his shoulder blade and Muggles were geniuses. How the bloody hell had the Wizarding World been stuck with potions and some uncomfortable spell and they had this? He sat up a little straighter but made no other movement in case Harry changed, or moved, or stopped. (Don’t stop). And then he felt Harry’s fingers without the layer of clothing as an intermediary when he started on his neck. All of it happened just a bit too fast and Draco couldn’t stop much of anything. First, he failed. A failure more astronomical than any Muggle Thing should be able to give a wizard. Like a curse or a charm or hex or jinx, Draco groaned at the feel of it - one that started low in his stomach and seemed to stretch on forever - and Harry didn’t help by pushing the niggling ball of muscle harder and in that split second Draco thought, frenzied and uncontrolled. More. And then the long forgotten urge to feel more - more skin against skin erupted and Draco didn’t even try to stop that sordid noise he’d made. And in those short seconds he’d thought of nothing other than the hot hands on him and how they made him feel so much better than he’d felt in years.It hurt then, at his chest, a horrid flash of burning and Draco yelped. He lurched forward, panicking as an intense flare of pain, searing at his skin, he saw it - his wedding ring was burning, tarnishing black and bronze, through his shirt; it looked disgusting as it disintegrated. The shirt around it was burnt and gone. Bubbles popped and oozed and Draco apparated upstairs, terror and guilt too much to share. He ripped it from his neck, the chain snapping and Draco tried to keep it together.“No, no, no.” Draco tried to keep it whole, trying to catch the spilling droplets only for them to burn his skin. But it didn’t stop, the once shining and bright platinum and silver melted and curdled and Draco was going to be sick. No, no this couldn’t be happening. He could hear her, he could hear how everyone would look at this.He hadn’t really loved her.He heard Harry yell his name, worried. “Keep him out,” Draco snapped at the Manor and he felt it rush to slam his bedroom door behind all the power it held. “Shit, shit. Astoria I’m so sorry,” he begged, he pleaded for the ring to stop destroying itself, it all but melting into the carpet. “Please stop.” But it didn’t and Draco wept. It - It was gone. His wedding ring to the woman he loved for so many years, that he’d kept so, so carefully clean and now it was gone. His chest hurt both inside and out, the skin burnt and inside an emotional mess. He couldn’t say which one hurt more.Astoria must be so? Disappointed? Mad? Betrayed?“Draco? Did I hurt you? Are you okay?” He sounded out of breath and tried to open Draco’s bedroom door but it stayed locked. “Open the door.”“It won’t stop,” Draco whispered as he could only watch as parts of the ring melted and dribbled and the carpet turned black too, crackling and filing the air with sulphur. He wanted to be sick and maybe it was because of the smell or maybe it was because of how hard and awful he sobbed because now - now he didn’t have anything of hers. What was he supposed to do?He didn’t hear what Harry said. He didn’t feel what the Manor sent him and he most certainly didn’t even notice the door had unlocked itself until Harry was at his side. “Bloody hell, you’re bleeding, what happened?” His hands were still so very warm and Draco shook his head couldn’t not look a it, couldn’t even blink away from the sight. Harry tried to pull him up to his feet, but he had no energy, no will to do even that. “I can’t even pick it up.” It wasn’t even a ring anymore. A splatter of metal, burnt and dead, no longer carrying any curse or any promise. “I love Astoria,” he croaked and Harry tried, he did try and Draco could tell he was trying but he couldn’t - he couldn’t. “Everyone who’s ever heard you talk about her knows that, Draco. She probably knew it best.”If Harry hadn’t-- Draco shoved him away, as hard as he could, the blood on his chest burnt black and nipping in the air. “This, this is all your fault. Why couldn’t you just leave me alone, why did you have to do Muggle this and Muggle that and--” the snarl dwindled, the misplaced rage unable to beat the hollow knowledge he’d failed, failed Astoria to do the one thing he’d promised to do for her. “It’s all I had left!”Even the chain, broken at first by him was gone too. He’d wanted to prove to Astoria and her family and everyone else. Now he couldn’t. He wanted to get away, away from this and away from Harry. If Harry hadn’t, if he hadn’t said a thing he’d still be wearing it. Swaying to his feet, his eyes were blurred and his face stinging and still he didn’t miss the way Potter was looking at him. Like he was pathetic, someone to be pitied. Oh, fuck right off.“This was the only proof I had that I ever loved her.” Even his parents had considered Astoria a rebellious phase to show his grievances. No one ever seemed to believe he was capable of loving her. “And now it’s melted into the bloody carpet and it’s-- and it’s gone just like she is.” Her mother hadn’t even thought him capable. How was he supposed to say, show, anyone anymore?Numbed, Draco only vaguely felt the soothe and calming spell that washed away the burn and the red and angry flesh around it. And Draco didn’t care. It didn’t make him feel better. “Draco.” He ignored that one and the other times Harry tried to refocus his attention. Until Harry’s patience waned too and he held Draco’s neck with two hands and forced him not to look away and Draco hated him all the more for it. He tried to hug him - and Draco was tempted to throw him away - Harry was weak right now. But Harry held on, and Draco couldn’t handle the gesture.Harry’s eyes weren’t soft or sad but furious and determined like all the times they’d ever dueled. “You love her - right? Then that’s all the proof you need. Tell everyone else to piss off.” A snort at the idea of telling Astoria’s mother to piss off was enough to snap him back for a moment. Having someone shorter try and force a hug was more than a little awkward and sore on his stiff muscles but as Draco stilled he wasn’t sure when the last hug he’d ever received was. Scorpius hadn’t in years, Astoria hadn’t been around for longer. He’d never once touched Jasmine. Having someone to lean on, a physical weight to hold him up and offer support had long since been forgotten. And so it was either crumbling back to the floor and losing himself in these thoughts of failure or clinging onto Harry in a lung-crushing hug because that was the only way he was going to remain on his feet. He hid away his face in Harry’s shoulder, ashamed at being caught again weak and panicking but this time, grateful. He hadn't cried over her even at the funeral. He couldn't. And now it hurt, a thorny, guilt-ridden sob and he couldn't stop it.Harry didn’t shush him or speak again, he just held on.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
When Harry started to lower his hands from his back - and it had nothing to do with Draco’s now absence of tears or his calmed breathing after the fact - Draco panicked. He sulked and hugged tighter, still trying to work out if it was possible to apparate without bringing along the person physically attached. His head ached from the crying and his eyes were too warm and his face puffy. He refused to let go or return to a non-hugging state which might involve having the potential awkward post-hugging-crying moment. No, Draco was fine just here. Perfectly capable of never looking at Harry in the eyes again because once again - again, bloody well again - he’d been caught out. Caught being emotional and oh that wasn’t -- wasn’t cool or charming or whatever bloody thing Draco liked to think others thought of him. Really, he was fine here and was well prepared to goad sympathy for a few more seconds of time. If Potter wasn’t demystified by this behaviour he was completely in need to be shipped off to the madhouse. How could a grown man cry like this over jewellery? It was ridiculous, he could hear his father tutting, looking down at him already. Another disgrace, another thing for his parents to bicker over. Still after so many years he could still hear the sigh of disappointment. Harry’s grip increased as the seconds ticked by, scratching against his shirt and back until Draco could feel Harry’s imbalance. “I’m not gonna be able to stand for much longer, y’know?” He tried to play it off as a joke, like it wasn’t Draco’s fault he was exhausted. Changing topics was a relief, a boon. “You won’t fall.” Draco wasn’t some scrawny kid who couldn’t hold someone upright. Harry laughed then and it eased the tight coil of shame in his gut as the laughter rumbled against him.“I don’t think anyone would believe me if you tried to sweep me off my feet.”Wasn’t it weird how people could sound like they were smiling?“I never mentioned sweeping. I’m a Malfoy we don’t do sweeping,” Draco was aware of his petulant tone and continued it anyway because at least they weren’t talking about - about Before. He wasn’t sure he could discuss Astoria with Harry. Would that even be fair? He wanted to keep the two seperate.Harry didn’t take him up on the offer, maybe too proud and not wishing to fall flat on his face again. Or not trusting Draco enough - whichever it was, Harry’s posture went rigid and a vein showed at his neck as he struggled, stubbornly, to stand on his own. Urgh, awkward post-hug-and-crying moment? No. No, he couldn’t handle that. Draco awkwardly stood back to let Potter start this horrid affair of talking about feelings. “Think your shirt’s ruined.” Harry put a finger through it and prodded him. The smile didn’t reach his eyes and Draco couldn’t feel any warmth from those hands. It was a hole in his chest and Draco laughed a bitter and petty laugh because how poetically shit this whole thing was?“We’re even, I’ve ruined yours.” When Harry finally saw and assessed the damage of tears in a large blot of darker blue, Draco fled to the bathroom to wash his face. The only positive was Harry was sitting down now going by the thrum of magic from the Manor. Nothing pretty or handsome, nothing elegant or graceful Draco would bet on his lacking qualities right now and wouldn’t even need the mirror. Draco didn’t consider himself an emotional sort (both Pansy and Blaise had oddly laughed at that admission back in the day). Even if the soggy patches on Harry’s shirt said otherwise, Draco would still say it. He didn’t do crying. Complaining, ranting certainly but in this moment? How he was supposed to argue he was fine when his sentences would be punctuated with sniffling and blinking bloodshot eyes. Draco could sleep for several summers right about now. Overcoming grief wasn’t a task one could score off like weeding the garden. Months lacking in agency only to be replaced with a desire, fervent and furious to go do something worthy and in those times thoughts on Astoria didn’t pop into his head so much. But he didn’t not miss her. Some days were easier, reminiscing bringing a smile and no twinge of regret or pain. He hadn’t played his part as a dutiful husband because that would imply a fleeting effort, gone when Astoria left this plane of existence. Carrying on was simply easier than acknowledging the loss completely by stopping. Well, he’d spent as long as he could in the bathroom. Trying to calm the redness of his face and the croak of his throat finally, showing its injury by the shouting and crying earlier. The return to his bedroom wasn’t a much desired one. What would Harry say now? Clearing his throat, trying to test how raw and miserable his voice was he muttered a few words, to Harry who had perched on the bottom of Draco’s bed. He used to door to cover himself from whatever slew of could-be insults.“This was stupid--”“I get it.” Harry faltered then, and Draco frowned at that voice. The ‘I Know Everything’ one. The fucking teeth-grinding arrogant one. It must have shown on his face, must have as Harry looked away, confidence lost. “Maybe not exactly but you had something from someone you cared for and now they’re both gone. I get that.”Another wobbling start and Harry moved to the mess. He was on his knees, pulling with shaky hands. Picking at the metal fused into the carpet. The rush up the stairs, to have Draco hold onto him in a grip so tight probably hadn’t left him much energy for magic casting. “What are you doing?” Draco didn’t like how the carpet torn and frayed as the metal had ruined it too.“What do you want me to do with it?” Harry didn’t look up as he asked and Draco backed away and stayed at arms length just in case it flared in anger and melted in Potter’s hands.“Could you--” Draco steeled himself to speak, not enjoying the warbling lilt to his voice, “Put it in her jewellery box? It’s-- on the dressing table.” He paused as he worried Harry might - as ridiculous as the thought was - somehow damage the melted wedding band more than it was already. Harry wobbled on his feet but Draco didn’t dare move from his spot. The box was still open, the once simple but pure wedding ring jarring now against the cream velvet inside. “Can you close it? I don’t - I don’t want to see it - not like that.”It was shut with a click and Draco slouched against the wall, exhausted and confused. He was gone in his thoughts, the memories of demanding to wear that cursed ring and proclaiming to Mrs Greengrass it wouldn’t so much as nip him. She hadn’t believed him for a second he was marrying Astoria because he loved her. ‘Malfoys aren’t known for their affections.’ He crumbled against the wall until his knees might knock his chin and Harry was careful in approaching him and he hadn’t the time to consider it was anything more than Harry’s own fatigue catching up. Harry plonked himself down next to him and Draco didn’t really register if he was speaking. Not until Harry’s phone was shoved in front of his face, the picture being that of the crup earlier.“I thought you were sending them to someone?” The crup’s face, with its stupid grin was on the screen and Draco took it from Harry with no complaints. It didn't fix anything but it was nice to see, nicer than anything else in this room.Launching into how these phones worked in more detail was an interesting distraction. Absorbing not so much, between the moments of silence he wondered if he was going to suffer consequences for the destruction of a Greengrass family heirloom. Daphne would notice, without a doubt. Scorpius would notice. Blaise would too, he was an observant sort. Nott wouldn’t and not many others who really conversed with Draco under the guise of purebloods sticking together would either. In habit he tried to spin the now missing ring on his finger. Once, then twice, Draco tried to ignore the stare. If Harry wanted to say something then he could be a Gryffindor about it. “Sorry.”For once, Draco didn’t understand. Waiting on Harry to elaborate proved futile. A half-hearted shrug and Harry didn’t say anything else. “For what?” Draco prodded, now more than sure his display was giving Potter second thoughts. “I keep feeling like I’m pushing too much.”The laugh hurt his already raw throat but he couldn’t help it. Potter didn’t lack confidence, did he? “Oh, get over yourself, when have you ever managed to make me do anything I didn’t want to do? Look--” he huffed, “It’s not as simple as you think.”“Tell me,” Harry said and tried to grab at his wrist again. “I’ve acted the bleeding heart long enough for tonight.” He stood up and fixed at his collars and cuffs, pretending he was perfect now that the lint was gone. No, there was no point in trying to explain, no point in giving these emotions more weight by adding words to them. Another attempt to grab onto his wrist and Harry kept talking. “Maybe we could find someone to put it back--” Harry just thought there was a solution for everything, didn’t he?Pulling back his hand as if Harry had burned him this time, Draco scoffed. Why was he surprised? “I’m not sad it’s gone, I’m guilty. Leave the bloody thing where it is. I don’t want you here, thinking you can fix everything.” The bitter bile erupted in his throat and he ignored Harry to the point he wasn’t sure how he’d even taken the words. He was leaving and Draco was left as he wished it. The ring was kidding, to think he -- Harry might replace Astoria. When the door shut Draco started the staring contest with the jewellery box and he didn’t know how to stop. Lotty arrived as Draco shifted, legs in pins and needles, the room had darkened and Draco’s stomach growled.“Get out,” he said and Lotty whimpered an apology and fled to Potter. He hadn’t left his room since leaving Draco on the floor. The childish thing was that he wasn’t even angry, not at them; this sickening weight that made it difficult to swallow and breathe. Like Katie Bell, the guilt was thick and slimy, sticking in his insides and making them squirm. To think of Harry rushing around showing everyone the pieces, the burnt and bubbled ooze that once was the Greengrass’ ring. How everyone would jeer and mock him. Of course, Mrs. Greengrass would finally after so many years of waiting for the day Draco failed, say, ‘I knew it. I was right.’ No, Draco couldn’t allow that. He couldn’t allow anyone to see the ring he loathed so much be so mangled and impure, it would say more about him as a person - that’s what people would say. That’s what they always said and no matter how sick Draco was of hearing about his own hidden depravity, it was enough to have his wife - his dead and gone wife be added as a footnote to his own life. So he stood on dead legs, opened the window and hopped out. A solid weight in his chest made Draco wonder if he'd simply fall out of the sky, too heavy even for his avian form. As nimble and agile as all the times before him, Draco swooped around the Manor, wailing in a language even Harry wouldn't know. Astoria was dead. She wasn’t going to rise from her grave as a ghost, tormented and hurt and seek vengeance. She hadn’t even wanted him to wear the bloody ring. Confusion was a great deal more difficult to remove than guilt or dread: how could he say anything but good things about Astoria (and yet hate his wedding ring so much)? Because as much as he loved her, as much as he wanted to prove to everyone that sole fact; he hated it. The constant stream of judgement, having to care for a ring which sat on his finger and judged him just like everyone else who didn’t know him. He was glad it was gone and in its absence didn’t know how to show others he was capable of more, more than the scarred skin on his arm. Was he allowed to move on? Would he be hailed as a terrible husband to move on after her death or was he supposed to be alone now, forever until his own death because some people assumed ‘true love’ meant he couldn’t love again.Draco shrieked at the world and its dull sky.Hypocrites, the purebloods all of them. Even him. He wanted desperately for Astoria’s happiness and was mocked or begrudged it by another - because purebloods didn’t do love. Business and family lineage and the ad nauseum of pretending the War never happened. She was gone and he still had refused the pettiness of the circles of the twenty-eight. If one more person dared joke how Daphne was still available he would curse them. He wouldn’t marry anyone who considered the War over and done with, a hiccup now gone.He shrieked at the peahens, enough for even the peacocks to begin to flare their tails and charge.Emotions weren’t Draco’s strong suit, while some might find relief in talking out problems or others who Silenced a room and yelled their frustrations free in the knowledge that no one would know, Draco found none. He didn’t like the sound of him crying, far too often as a child it led to his father scolding him, his mother defending him and the two bickering. He’d rather just avoid the upset. Although a scream and shriek as an owl sounded different, more in control than some sobbing old man. Perching on a post, watching the territorial birds fan their feathers he tried to make sense of it. Anger his slip up had cost him the ring; sadness at the loss of another piece of Astoria; glee at finally having a reason not to wear the blasted thing; guilt at the glee, at the possibility that he was doing wrong. Wood slid together and the noise made Draco turn back to the Manor. Standing by the window, opened wide and with a cracking voice as if he were straining himself Harry yelled, “Fornax! Draco needs you to come inside!”Did Harry want to talk? An apology wasn’t yet made up in his head and so Draco hooted and swooped away. He still didn’t know what to do and that was unforgivable. A plan, a solution something to scoop out these emotions that bled into his mind and cursed him all over again. What would Daphne say when she saw the ring gone? Would she report back to her parents? In response the heavens rumbled and groaned. Draco flinched at the disorientating noise as if someone had put a metal bucket on his head and walloped it hard. He screeched back. Sound was not the problem, the ensuing downpour was. At first he could ignore it, simply an extra weight onto his wings. Heavy and constant, the rain soaked into his feathers and dragged him down in minutes. No matter how fast or hard he flapped, it was tiring and he waned in the air. He screamed again, made to land onto the grating of his home.The night was cold, in typical British fashion accompanied by a wind that made it so much worse. Even the closest and smallest of feathers on him were dripping and Draco shivered in the rain. Owl feathers were not waterproof and Draco could see now how it was such an issue; he didn’t think he could fly much less hear prey. All but Harry’s voice was clear through the haze of rainfall. He extended his hand out, the sleeve being bombarded with rain already and he waved him over. “You’re soaked, you can’t fly like that, come inside.” Draco didn’t try to move, didn’t so much as look in Harry’s direction, twisting his head all the way round to prove his point.“Don’t be stupid. Do you seriously think I won’t come out there?” Draco called him a series of names, none which came out as anything but a long drawn out cry. Potter would absolutely jump out of a bloody window to save an ordinary owl, never mind Draco as an animagus. He hopped down to the windowsill, not so gracefully now his feathers were muddled and weighing him down like a thousand tiny chains. Harry scooped him up in his arms and Draco didn’t mind so much in returning to the house. Warmth from the Manor enveloped him and he cooed involuntary. “Bloody hell, you’re freezing.” Harry set him on the armoire covering him with a towel, not so fluffy and not warm like before. Unlike the rest of the wizarding houses, the Malfoy Manor was old - plumbing might be installed but electricity was not - a shame really. As Harry manhandled his feathers, the Muggle instrument that blew warm air seemed like a luxury.Perhaps that was when Harry remembered he was a wizard capable of magic. “Accio towel,” he called out. For a moment Draco wondered if he was too tired to even command a single item. A hoot of an apology and Harry too sighed at the varying power he held. If this was morning, if he hadn’t been urged to rush up the stairs and stand around with someone else’s body weight then maybe he—The Manor might have opened the door - maybe Harry had - but it startled them both and in the distance the sound of doors opening enmass. Magic houses were fickle only if their owners were. Worrying wards and cautious Head of House garnered all the same and Harry at this moment in time was the only ward the Manor recognised. Malfoy Manor was used to arrogant and petulant intents, cruel and petty ideas and worrying was certainly not encouraged to be obvious. A house copied the intent of the ward highest. So it was Harry’s fault all of the linen cupboards of the Manor opened and their contents flew at his face. Draco was smart enough to wriggle away from the impending avalanche of off white, ivory, cream and white towels but he was not fast enough. Harry made a noise, possibly of a man dying of embarrassment as the towels continued to pile up. When Harry popped his head out of the mountain of feverishly found towels, Draco laughed in his own linen-made avalanche. Laughed so hard he knew his human part would return because he couldn’t keep up with trying to breathe and laugh and try to focus on staying an owl. He turned back, soaked to the bone and teeth chattering and a trembling laughter, giddy and the only thing which was warming him. The very sight Harry Potter was buried under his own outlandish worries tickled. “Find any, Potter?” He staggered out of them, wheezing at the ridiculous magic. This was the guy that defeated Voldemort. His laughter was louder after that, so loud and shaking he’d grasped onto the very armoire he’d once sat on to keep him from doubling over. “Just one or two.” Harry threw one over his head and rubbed at his hair, and Draco kept his head as low as he could. Was it him being too cold or Harry’s worry which forced its magic to respond? He didn’t know, but another ran down his back and he could barely keep his wand in his hands as he cast a warming charm. It might make him feel better but it didn’t dry out his damp and cold skin. The Manor sent him another, anxious and too concerned over the Head of House being cold. Too cold, Draco heard it say, a vision of himself shivering in his head. Patting around his neck and collar he considered this a useless but nonetheless nice gesture. What would be best would be Draco going off to bathe and warm up and dry himself. What did drying his hair really provide? He saw it then, peeking up at Harry’s face, the focus - the intense way he went on with tasks, as if the world would fall all around them if he didn’t do whatever it was. And as it was, was drying Draco’s hair. Usually, normally, if Draco was fine and well and not guilty he’d stop this little show of care. ”My Aunt and Uncle used to say I was a waste of space.” Draco stilled upon hearing it. For once he had no doubt Harry could push him away and it wouldn’t make Draco think any lesser of him for it. And still those hands rubbed at his hair, didn’t shove Draco away because that’s not what it was about. This wasn’t their scoreboard of wins and losses. It wasn’t their usual bickering with one ending up leaving furious and the other gleeful and cackling. It was a line Draco crossed unknowing, not thinking about how his words might hurt. Sorry didn’t make up for it. Wouldn’t uncross that line or fix whatever nonsense Harry had thought for the last hour or so on his own as Draco flew around ignoring everything and everyone else. Playing with the end of the towel in his hands he set his forehead against the same shoulder he’d made a sopping mess of earlier and forced himself to offer some restitution to him and spoke the truth, “I lied.” With a sigh, long and drawn out Harry relaxed and in turn so did Draco. It felt like forgiveness. “Of course you did.” Harry resumed the hair-drying, this time not so rough and Draco peeked up to see Harry wasn’t, had never been angry. Oh. He was - he was being looked after. Taken care of. When was the last time he’d experienced that? Scorpius shouldering his weight and putting him to bed after a bad week left him drunk and morose in his study. It really shouldn’t make him feel so flustered, not when he was so mad, so mixed up before. But it blossomed again, that same way affection always did which started deep in his chest and fluttered and warmed - and Harry didn’t even realise. He was focused again on drying him off. “Probably best for you to have a quick shower,” Harry advised like Draco was in any danger of being ill. It took all of Draco’s control not to smile as he closed his eyes and let Harry dry the stray droplets running down his face. The giddiness morphed like an owl to a dragon and Draco couldn’t stop it. He really wanted to kiss Harry, pull him closer - soaking clothes and numb fingers be damned. And Harry hadn’t a clue he just continued on. (Harry was terribly sweet and) Draco had to say he’d only just really taken notice. Every interaction for so long always held some currency, a tacked on favour, a promise to return it or else. This selfless little show was enough for Draco to acknowledge it; those feelings of Harry’s that weren’t quite so misguided. People didn’t take care of Draco Malfoy because they wanted something from him. They were secretive and select, not willing to give a second more to Draco in order for their goals to be achieved.Maybe something did show on his face because Harry paused. “What is it?”“It’s nothing,” Draco smiled and received one, somewhat bewildered and curious, in return. A tilt of the head which reminded Draco of a crup.“While you go and warm up I’ll--” Harry looked to the ignored linen mountain. “I’ll take care of those.”“Sounds like a fine idea.” His eyes flicked down, Draco might’ve teased him more if Harry hadn’t froze, unable to look away but not wanting to push again, not yet. That was fine. So, Draco did it this time, leaning forward and hearing Harry sigh. Only when Harry’s thumb sat at the curve of his jaw, and mouth against his own did Draco realise how cold he really was. How the heat from Harry was terribly addicting against his own skin.Harry forced the inhale that followed and he said, “You’re really cold, so you better hurry up.” As if those words would ever hide the way Harry’s eyes were darkening or how he'd nearly pried his hands away. His focus was certainly different now and Draco licked his lips and saw Harry followed it without so much as a blink.It wasn’t exactly what Draco wanted but he’d take it. A rest was necessary for the sheer amount of emotional turmoil he’d laboured under today. “Goodnight.”“Night,” Harry whispered back and Draco left Harry there not knowing if he was rejected or not.The bath was divine, in the only way chilled skin in warm water was. He’d stayed until his fingers pruned and his plan of action was made. Sleep first and apologise later, he supposed. A nights rest for everyone involved might ease the tension. He moved sluggish and slow and not because of his cramping muscles or his reluctance of going anywhere near the dressing table. Problem was, the jewellery box’s stare was heavy and Draco turned in his bed throughout the night. Then he would turn back and stare back. And for the hundredth time he’d turn to look away. No, he wouldn’t manage sleep tonight. It was still in his head, the sight of it crumbling in his hands. Nothing would make this room comfortable. Sitting up he wondered if Harry was awake, Maybe. He might as well check. The Manor was helpful in keeping tabs on those on the wards and he was sure Harry was in bed. He made it halfway down the hall before stopping. What if he was asleep, a rarity for him, and Draco woke him up - for what? Draco lingered for a moment. He didn’t really know what he wanted Harry to do or say, what he wanted to do or say to Harry. What could Harry hope to do that Draco couldn’t do himself? Nothing. He returned to his bedroom, got into bed and stared back at the jewellery box.It tormented him, the pretty lock gleaming in the dark and Draco stared back.Lasting another hour, tossing and turning Draco left his room again, not able to stop the feeling he was doing something wrong. He’d failed and he needed something. Something. He didn’t know what but staying in that room -- This time he made it to Harry’s door before he faltered again. Harry was clear in his affections, would this be fair? Sneaking into his room or asking to - whatever Draco was going to ask - all he knew he couldn’t stay in that room, or any room on his own. Not with the sound of hissing, melting metal in his head. He needed someone else, something real and not a phantom that conjurered his memories. It wouldn’t be fair, would it? To have him slip in at night, that would be raising expectations. Ones Draco couldn’t even begin to fathom right now, not in this headspace. Not with all these other emotions unravelling. Draco returned to his room keeping his footsteps as quiet as possible. He paced around, couldn’t slip back into bed, no chance he’d sleep like this. He was too hyped up on this anxious energy. He sat on the bed, he paced the room, he sat on the bed, he paced the room. For hours. It watched him from Astoria’s dressing table. And Draco could feel it, a horrid lurking cloud waiting. So, Draco kept his cool and ignored it. Ignored the questions it posed, what he thought himself but would never admit to -- he was a terrible -- and Draco held his breath as Harry’s presence moved and he froze on the spot.So he was up? Where was he going? Awake and moving out of his room. The Manor flared how Harry was heading towards him. Oh. Oh, Harry must have felt him move around and Harry paused outside his door. Then there was a knock and Draco wasn’t sure he could answer it. Time ticked by and Draco watched it half expecting Harry to leave. He waited, silent and in a terrible lie to himself thought he could convince Harry he was sleeping by not moving, not an inch.He didn’t. One minute then two and Draco could say Harry probably could tell exactly where he was in the room being so close by. Still, Harry didn’t move and Draco didn’t either. He didn’t know what he would say. He didn’t have a plan, no idea or reason why he was urged away from this room and wanted into - and Draco couldn’t say he even wanted into Harry’s room specifically. Maybe he was here to say this was his last night here; returning to the hovel was better than this place with an over-emotional and petty Draco Malfoy. Wringing his hands together, his fingers going to wipe at the no longer present metal he opened the door. And Harry stood there in the doorway and Draco couldn’t speak. Couldn’t ask or say what he wanted or needed to do to feel better about anything. He was tired, He was exhausted and his brain was stuffed with cotton and his head ached from the crying and the overthinking. Harry was still under the effects of the potion, going by how clouded his eyes, how he leaned against the doorframe and seemed to want to sleep standing up.Harry for once didn’t say a word and neither did Draco. He waved him over, like he was going to tell him a secret. Cautious, Draco waited for him to say something. If Harry was angry he’d know how to respond, he’d know how to express himself if only Harry hurried up and set the tone. Harry motioned his head down the hall, to his own room, and in another tug of his hand returned, Draco in tow and hearing the thudding of his heartbeat in his ears. What could he say to say he wasn’t comfortable anymore, not in his own house, not in his own bedroom. Apologises weren’t common from Draco - he’d never been taught how to say sorry, to admit fault until Astoria and he failed her again because he couldn’t say it now, when he needed to. One solid squeeze of his hand and then Harry let go and Draco didn’t know until now what the word floundering meant as Harry crawled back under the covers. Had Harry meant to leave the door wide open? Oh.Wringing his hands again, Draco hadn’t a clue what to do or say. Harry seemed ready to return to sleep. Close the door, he commanded the Manor and it did so, gently. How long had it been since he’d laid next to someone in bed? To have a heat radiating from the side that was normally cold and empty. If Harry was ever feeling awkward over having Draco in the bed with him, he never showed it, not as he yawned outloud and muttered a goodnight before Harry went limp, a deadweight that gave Draco pause. Now, he was here and unable to see so much as a flicker of metal in this room and he calmed. Well, he tried to. If Harry’s behaviour was an interlude of highs and hallucinations then tomorrow morning would be worse than the tears tonight. It wasn’t as if Draco wasn’t aware Harry wanted him in his bed. But he’d probably had grander ideas than walking Draco to the bed and promptly sleeping. Ha.And that brought the question: what on earth was Draco doing? He’d never slept with another man before so how was this even a thing? How could he be lying here in bed, with Harry Potter, once a brat who’d rejected and almost killed him and saved him and given him mercy when the world didn’t want to. Was it even possible for him to give Harry what he wanted? One thing was bothering him about this. Potter had made several claims to being “pushy”. Why did he assume Draco would just go along with anything? Was he so used to the special treatment even as an adult? If Wilks had tried what Harry did at the party, his unidentifiable body would be washing up in the Clyde right about now. And then there was the hilarious fact Harry had assumed he’d fallen for a Muggles manipulation for a kiss.His revelation came in the form of Harry trying to keep to his side of the bed - he flinched away when his foot dared to tap at Draco’s shin. If Draco hadn’t seen the pattern before, he’d have been offended. The mattress shifted under him as he turned over and Draco tried to make out some details of the room. Only the black blob of Harry’s hair, the greys and whites of the covers and-- Harry turned around too, too close - too close - his hair tickling at Draco's neck and chin.“Are you awake?” he whispered. Nothing and somehow it made Draco fret more. Gulping a breath, he didn’t understand the simmering nerves. Every since Harry had appeared at his bedroom door, this unbalanced, unfettered energy kept him on edge. Everything about Harry right now should remind Draco this was a favour. To escape the waking nightmares and guilt-ridden thoughts but now Harry was curling up to him like a cat.“Harry?” He tried again.Frozen. Unsure. Draco Malfoy was never either of those, not these days. Maybe back in the earliest years of Hogwarts when Dark Magic wasn’t so prominent. When he was a child, he’d heard his father talk about Harry Potter, a Great Dark Wizard, who’d have a scar upon his brow and how Draco would know instantly who he was and how lucky and good it would be to befriend him. Out of all the times they’d spent slagging each other off, Draco had to say he’d never saw the scar in much detail. Even when his face was mangled and bloated from the hex fired directly at him or during their many duels. “Are you really asleep?” He asked out of caution and combed his hand over the ridiculous hair of one Harry Potter. Thumbed over the infamous scar, and stilled. He really wanted to--A small and dim orb of light, much like a Lumos charm, fluttered down from the ceiling illuminating and casting darker shadows around the room. It wasn’t enough to blind or burn his eyes. The Manor really was a peculiar magic. He saw the movement behind Harry’s eyelids, the twitch of his jaw and the faded scar. Line more or less the same as the scars on Draco’s arm. White tailing off into skin and its shape distorted after years of growing and healing. Another ghost of a touch over the mark. Funny really, how everyone fawned over Harry and his scars until the War. Until it wasn’t just a bedtime story about a baby defeating evil. Remnants of wars were always scars, one way or another. Draco had a hypothesis of sorts about Harry. For a long time, Draco considered himself alone but whether everyone or only some found, his loneliness never clung deep. A notion but never an ache. As an only child, a teenager alone against the world and then a widow to a terribly sad child he was used to entertaining himself after the fact. Harry blushed when Draco brought up anything affectionate, anything which hinted Draco was aware of Harry’s feelings or desires as if they were the embarrassing part. Nothing told Draco Harry was prudish, quite the opposite. Yet Harry still went out of his way to do the memorable. Who would ever dare to take Draco to the Muggle world? Who would ever try and push their way into allowing a Malfoy to meet unimprinted crups? Or how he was unbelievably resolute the poor reputation didn’t bother him to the point of almost everyone finding out on the night of his confession because of his staring.Even though Harry wasn’t the type to expect anything to come from helping someone, here he was. Curled up and Draco being the one taking an advantage. But if Potter was asleep-- really asleep--There was something Draco wanted to do, always had after being unshackled and freed. Draco Malfoy was a coward, not brave enough even to write the words. Saying it now would place unnecessary thoughts into Harry’s head. If Harry considered him pushy or somehow twisting Draco’s hurt to his own advantage then bringing up the time Draco and his mother was saved by his word alone might be too much. Harry’s breathing never hiked or slowed, sped or deepened. Pushing the ever ridiculous mess of hair out of the way again. “Thank you.” He planted a kiss on Harry’s forehead and the light died. His last conscious thought was how Harry seemed to nuzzle between his neck and the bed.When Draco opened his eyes he was surprised at how difficult it was to breathe. To discover Harry wasn’t actually human but some breed of octopus that was trying to smother him with all his limbs, and made a rumbling noise akin to something escaping the foulest pits of hell. He pushed Harry, his arm flurrying with pins and needles. “There are pillows,” he grunted, pretending to be more interested in his arm than the resonating thought he was - had - slept in Harry’s bed for the night.“Too soft,” Harry slurred and fell back into a slumber Draco wasn’t going to wake him from. That was a little bit of a relief and allowed Draco some time to sort out his own thoughts before Harry interrogated him. Yesterday wasn’t so clear cut for Harry as his questions illuminated his insecurities. Draco needed to talk about those too. If Harry was surprised when he woke up, eyes more alert, he didn’t say anything. And the he stared. And stared. And now he was awake - Harry was still staring - Draco couldn’t talk. Couldn’t mention anything without it sounding off or much like he’d spent too long thinking over Harry than his wife.Slowly, Harry moved. Covered Draco’s eyes with a warm hand. No. No, no, Draco froze again, his heart thudding out his ears -- Harry pushed back some errand hair and kissed him on the forehead.Well that was mortifying. That’s it. He was moving to France. Ready to deflect, defend his ego and dismiss whatever Harry was going to say, Draco glared as he shifted. He waited to hear something smarmy, something snarky which would make Draco’s blood boil and show them both this couldn’t work. Never work. Harry didn’t say a word and Draco’s ready to ignite anger fizzled out. Already, Harry had settled down using Draco as a makeshift pillow. How long Harry stared back, Draco couldn’t hope to say.“We should talk,” Harry said and shut up. Fine. They should. It took some time, a self-conscious nightmare as Harry seemed to watch whatever tiny movement Draco made. “I’ve only been with Astoria,” he mentioned in hopes to move passed however many people - forget it, men - Harry had actually slept with as quickly as possible. If Draco was in a long, long list he wasn’t sure how he would take it. Harry propped himself up on an elbow and Draco sneered at the lack of pyjamas - not that Harry was naked. No Harry Potter was one of those people, people who went to sleep in clothing fit for outside and didn’t seem to have any inkling as to why that was weird.“No Pansy?” Draco didn’t know whether to laugh at the ignorance or the implications.“Pansy? She was an only child from a pureblood family. At which point was she supposed to let anyone close? Sorry I don’t sleep with Muggles to inflate my numbers.” His expression soured and Draco prepared himself to hear about some ‘small’ number that would overshadow his own. “Neither do I?” Harry lied, must have lied. Until his eyes light up in a way that was similar to when they were trading barbs and insults. “Oh. He’s a friend of a friend - squib. Never shagged him. No, that’s never gonna happen.” That grin said too much of how much Harry’s ego was bloating under Draco’s wrong assumption. Great. Moving on swiftly.“Copping a feel and getting off with each other is one thing. I’m not sure on the ‘sleeping with another guy’ part. This might not work out.” Draco tried to explain it all away as fast as possible. The rules in Slytherin were quite strict with eyes and ears everywhere. Matching up wasn’t some teenager fling, it was potentially overseen by parents and plans set for decades. His mother had wanted him to return to Pansy and marry her before her sham marriage to Nott. So, hooking up after marriage was a traitorous idea.Unlike the bluster he expected, Harry didn’t bother to move an inch. “Does it make you uncomfortable?”What a stupid question: was Harry uncomfortable? (Was that it?)“That’s not the first time you’ve asked or claimed you’re being pushy or some other such nonsense. Why?” He spied the way Harry seemed to look at him only to glance away as if scolded. “I don’t want to push you into anything.” He might have pouted, Draco couldn’t be sure. “It’s not a bad thing.” Silence wasn’t always awkward or provocative but letting it linger after a question added pressure for it to be answered. If Harry caved or if he was simply feeling generous, there was no way to know.“Ginny was miserable for two years and whenever she wanted to talk, I’d just push and say everything was fine or we could fix it.” When Harry sighed, Draco could tell where it was coming from: a deep regret. So, their marriage was on the rocks before Harry’s magic and anger issues?Understanding the toil and toll a marriage took made Draco think before he next spoke. It explained why Harry turned from assertive to passive in such a short time. Worried he’d trailblaze in his usual way and ignore Draco’s wishes. “Do you think if I was uncomfortable or had issue, you wouldn’t know about it?” Draco might be a mess by someone’s standards (and he held greater standards than most people) he wasn’t someone who ever took discomfort quietly and without a passing word. Harry hid his face and laughed and Draco felt it more in his warm breath and shaking form than hearing it. What was most interesting, Draco wasn’t even slightly uncomfortable - here he was laying in bed and being used like some comforter and nothing. Not even a smidgen of awkward atmosphere. Was it because he knew Harry for so long? Or because Potter was at least candid in his affections? He was too brutish to manipulate, too forward to hide much of anything. “Could I kiss you?”“You’re not going to ask everytime are you?” Draco found that more annoying than Wilks seduction attempts. “Because if that’s a habit, throw yourself out of this bed now before I do.” The threat fell itself and Harry seemed to contemplate, a little too chirpy for this early in the morning. No. Just no. It showed so clear on Harry’s face Draco scowled. “I will throw you out, don’t even--” “Could I--” Harry didn’t get to finish that question.“Don’t.”“But can I--” No. “That’s it. Consider this the worst--” Draco huffed, pulling at pillow his head rested on. His words were filled with such smug amusement. “May I—” Harry wasn’t able to finish that sentence, said pillow slammed in his face.“No, I’ll just go find a Muggle to take advantage of me. Terribly conniving bunch.” Shoving him away, Draco sat up. What time was it? He wasn’t eager to see Hermione. He wasn’t eager to go to the Ministry. First off, running his hand through his already dishevelled hair he needed a shower and breakfast. And Lotty… he needed to apologise. He got out of bed.“Lotty,” Draco called out and the house elf appeared. Her head downcast and no longer humming her usual tune. Rummaged through his Harry's robes until he found what he needed. He handed her a Sickle, her annual payment. Of course Draco Malfoy could never apologise to Lotty - Lotty wouldn’t hear of it. And Merlin strike him where he stands if he ever offered someone a Knut in apology. She perked up immediately as she flipped the coin over and saw its face.“Lotty will make breakfast now?” She sounded too hopeful for an elf being asked to do her daily duty. “Yes, please do.” Draco ignored how Harry was watching them both. He didn’t need to explain this.Breakfast was large in its portions and filling like usual. Still, Harry lacked any refinement at the table but this time, Lotty and Draco said nothing. So long as he didn’t stain or try to wear his breakfast on his Auror Department robes, Draco wasn’t going to mention it.“Do you want to come to the Leaky with me? Luna and Neville will be there later. Hermione and Ron for a bit. Ginny and Seamus too. I haven’t been in a while," he said between mouthfuls and Draco paused as he checked the time. “Ginny.” He wasn’t letting Harry try and breeze passed that one. “You want me to go drinking with Ginny? Your still current and very much married and legally binding wife?”“Separated, okay? Except only the people at the table know,” Harry said, as if he didn’t understand the problem.Bringing his separated wife, her brother and his what -- current infatuation? -- to the same bar to drink? Merlin, no wonder Harry’s life was filled with such drama and adventure. “My, you’re just full of terrible ideas, aren’t you?” All but grinning at the appearance of red dusting on Harry’s ears was more than enough to convince Draco his hypothesis was correct. His teasing would have to wait, as he checked his pocket watch again. “Another time, I’ve somewhere to be today.” Harry didn’t believe him the way he sulked and twiddled about with his phone.“Hermione. And I’m going to be late,” Draco informed him only to make his way to the Floo with Harry at his heels. “Once you’re done, Fornax could keep me company. Doubt I’ll do much more than sign off cases all day.” Good, Draco nodded. About time Harry returned to doing what he was paid to do. He couldn’t linger any longer and set about Flooing to the Ministry. “Let’s not make it a habit people will question.” Draco stepped into the Floo and the powder in his hands nearly messed up his shoes. Harry seemed out of sorts over the implication. Figures. Fine. If they were… trying this, then Draco wouldn’t push too much himself. “Well? Move. I swear If I’m late, Hermione will know it’s entirely your fault.” Harry seemed far too eager to stand beside him and be whisked away to the dull Ministry.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Meeting with Hermione again and having no real answers was less frustrating and more embarrassing. The conniving purebloods hadn’t shown their fangs and Nott had gone silent. From what Draco could gather, him hosting Hermione’s little party had given them pause. Either they didn’t consider Hermione to show her loyalty in return or Malfoy was still influential enough to cause some inner conflict. Nott was loyal enough not to implicate whoever was at the head of it all but not enough for him to ruin his reputation. Pansy could be the deliberating factor, most marriages weren’t able to divorce - imagine the proceedings of divvying up centuries of land claims and filled vaults. It might be Nott was being blackmailed with the same knowledge Draco held from someone else to move after Hermione. Affairs were dull, until it came to the reasons why. Pansy and Blaise was one thing - he was still unmarried and wasn’t seen in much scandal. Nott on the other hand was sleeping with someone in a wholly different league if rumours were correct.Hermione was too sharp for her own good as she settled on asking, for the third time, “Are you okay?”“Hm? Yes, nothing out of the ordinary,” he answered too quickly. A tiny voice in his head wondered just how Hermione would react to hearing the truth. Self-preservation shut it up fast. Rubbing at his forehead, he tried to obliterate the sensation of Harry’s kiss, tried to stop the urge to smile. “Definitely the worst lie you’ve tried on me as of yet. You sound awful by the way.” Hermione sighed as she scratched out another few lines on her parchment and started again. Another speech and going by the amount of ink and scored out lines it wasn’t going well. “Have you heard anything? The vote isn’t far now.” “Nott will vote in his best interest, I’ve no doubt.” Draco would send another letter to reinforce such an ideal. “And Blaise? Still a wildcard?”Blaise was… Well, he wondered about Blaise and what way his vote would fall. Abstaining was always a possibility. “He’s acting a little off, though did claim by having the party at the Manor I’ve placed myself in harm’s way. Blaise never tells the whole truth even if he knows it. I’d imagine he was holding onto that information since the venue was announced.”Such as, Blaise knew about the soon-to-be attempt to floor this bill and destroy Hermione’s credibility (not only another reason why Potter was kept hidden away and protected). And still, Blaise hadn’t given up a name, not so much as a Goyle or Nott who Draco was well aware were part of this little stunt. No one, just a vague threat by someone unknown was given. What was Draco supposed to do with nothing?Crossing his arms he was underwhelmed with his own performance. He should have more information but everything else kept popping up and distracting him. Harry, too, was partly at fault. Hermione set the quill away, and with a bright smile - not one she’d ever given because of Draco - asked, “How is Harry?”For a split second, Draco believed his mind read and secrets revealed.“I’m sure he could try a waltz, I couldn’t say how true to the steps he’d be but he’d manage something close for a song or two. Magic wise, well he did try and unload all of my linen into a room after a miscast Accio.”“Sounds like he’s doing well. So, he’ll be home soon.” Hermione nodded to herself and Draco was calm despite the lurch at the thought. Yes, Harry would leave and then the Manor would return to its quiet, quiet days. It didn’t sound as relieving than it once had. “I’ll ask around, see if the reappearance of the Golden Couple didn’t halt their plans.” It might simply be it. Harry was still listed as one of the most powerful wizards living lists. Even Moran would pause. He set off to send a few more letters but didn’t manage to get to the door before Hermione’s Minister voice made him freeze.“Draco?” He turned to see her scratch another line away, innocent enough but he waited to hear whatever curse she was waiting to fling his way. “I heard Harry had an owl helping deliver caseloads to the Aurors.” Her eyes twinkled in a manner Draco ignored entirely. She was terribly too amused by this news. “I’d like to see him keep up the work ethic he’s been lacking as of late, if it’s not too much trouble.”“I’ve to be a carrier pigeon now?” Draco sniffed, he refused to go from being on equal measure of the most powerful families in Britain to parcel duty. “Overseeing the lethargic departments who can’t cross their Ts and dot their Is? Hardly the kind of work I’m used to.” How degrading, how pathetic, how Hermione ever thought he’d agree to this sort of treatment he’d never know.“Normally an owl would provide Harry a distraction. This one I’ve also heard, was a great boost of morale.”Wait, what? Okay, that might have flustered Draco a bit. He tried to save himself with a cough and a sneer. Though those ever vigilant eyes were far too filled with nonsense to say he’d managed to recover in time.“Apparently, the owl ‘reanimated’ Harry. Everyone was chatting how he was… upbeat. How happy he was. As if he was back to his old self again.”“Well, if the Ministry needs a morale boost I suppose I could offer--”“Thank you, Draco.” She waved him away and Draco wanted to call her every horrid name under the sun because the woman was a manipulative shrew and he hated it. Hated how she thought she knew everything (she did not, and she most certainly did not know about Harry’s too sweet and not so sweet feelings) and still she’d managed to wrangle him back into the Auror Department. It, Draco supposed, was not too bad. He was going there today anyway. So, really, in the grand scheme of things he’d won.Returning home to transmorph into an owl, to take the official route back to the Ministry was a bore. The buildings and routes twisted and turned and numerous Ministry owls screamed at him in a manner Draco found less territorial and more in surprise. Did they know he wasn’t really an owl? Either way he made it back to the Ministry in record time and he decided to land on Collins’ desk to announce himself. Harry could wait for a second or two. The man did not disappoint and threw himself back and yelled in horror as if Draco was no owl but a Boggart. Perhaps, Collins’ Boggart was an owl? Draco wasn’t keen on snakes and both of them swallowed their prey up with no chewing. “It’s back! It’s back again! Bloody hell! Sandra! Sandie! Whatever your name is--” he waved over a witch who must have gone through her Auror training immediately after schooling. Her arms were twigs upon a body much the same eerie thinness. Not the most intimidating of Aurors but Draco was familiar with those lacking in physical stature usually had the most vicious of spells. “Hey there, you’re so lovely. Did this grumpy old man not give you a treat yet?” She grinned at him, and he hooted back. He liked this one, for now. A lack of respect for Collins was a surefire way to have Draco’s.“It didn’t bloody well deliver anything, it’s here to torment me, I’m telling you - it knows.”Damn right. Sandra, Sandie whatever her name was rolled her eyes and blew a blonde wisp of hair from the front of her face. “Sure. I’m guessing this is the one he was talking about? Come on you,” she held her arm out and Draco was impressed at her ease at being near an unknown owl. Must have some experience then. Maybe spent days in the Owlery a Hogwarts? He hopped onto her arm and she made a meandre to Harry’s office taking her time in order to give heartfelt compliments. Little weird, but Draco assumed she was sane enough and she knocked before opening it herself. “Sir, your owl’s here.”His owl? What had he been saying to people? The office wasn’t tidy but the numerous stacks were half the size than last time. Progress was a slow path.“Thanks,” Harry smiled and Draco wondered who it was directed towards. His Auror robes were off, hanging up over his chair and revealing more Muggle clothing. Outrageous, really but the Auror-trainee, whatever she was, didn’t so much as blink at the sight. Harry left his own pile of parchment and Draco wasn’t sure why. Fornax could fly, he didn’t need this escort.“He hasn’t nipped anyone has he?” Harry asked, quiet and Draco was going to bite him for such a question.“Oh no, he’s been very gentle. Isn’t even gripping onto me all that much. My mum had one of these, nice to look at yeah? Nasty temper and one hella bite.”“Sounds spot on. Wouldn’t you say so?” Harry’s joke endeared the trainee but Draco squawked, refused to be transferred over to Harry’s arm like an errand and flew over to the desk. Already there was a bundle sitting waiting, labelled E. COLLINS. Strings were wrapped around a dozen or so parchments and folders in neat piles. What should he feel when his presence was assumed like this?The young woman left, never giving Harry the now usual wary and disgruntled scowls. As if Harry had heard his indignation he scratched at the back of his head. “If you could? I can get through this a lot faster if I don’t have to stop and deliver each set.” Draco stared without making a sound indicating any kind of agreement. Harry continued, “You know, my magic isn’t that great yet.”Lies, such weak and easily seen through lies. What should he slip on the Auror robes and bark orders to the lot too? Draco ignored him. Was this help or was this adding onto Harry’s assumption this was all okay? An ill habit forming wasn’t going to help Harry in the long run. Obviously, he had some pride and some inkling his months of doing nothing was embarrassing. Really embarrassing for the Boy Who Lived. How many Aurors were disapppointed in the fable, the larger than life tale of Harry Potter being such a let down? A man who hadn’t done paperwork and hid in his office if he ever turned up wasn’t worth much. Ron and Hermione were not aware of this problem, ignorant to the potions and the panic. Could he blame them for not knowing? Not really, not when Harry was keeping all these secrets. Fine. Draco would help, only in the hopes the towers of paper would dwindle until only that file remained. The one that made Harry Potter scared and struggle. And Draco would demand to see it. See what Harry Potter was fearing and try and deal with it too. He chirped, but nipped at the air as Hary returned to sit down. His agreement wasn’t an absolute forever. Just today, since Hermione had said so. Some Aurors had more than one stack brought to them, not because of the sheer amount but the weight. One file in particular was a slew of pictures and parchment and Draco couldn’t possibly hope to fly carrying such a thick file. His feathers were made for stealth not speed and the uplift even from these larger than average wings wasn’t enough to carry much more than his own bodyweight.Harry’s office door was left open, allowing Draco to fly back and forth without pause. Some Aurors did try to pet him but the majority were immediate focused on only what he brought. Breaking out in the parchment from their string confines and reading, scanning the pages fast and flicking through everything as efficiently as possible. Others left in pairs, heading off to the Floos or the Unspeakables or a witness. Whatever busy atmosphere was perpetuated about the Auror Department was changed fast, now that they did have work to do. Ironically, the busier the Auror were, the quieter and emptier the floor became. If he was human, he wouldn’t have seen it. A shadow crossed the worn carpet. Wouldn’t have heard the scratching of tiny legs on a wooden desk. He turned to pinpoint the noise to see a bug.“Hey, buddy what’s up?” The young wizard tried to coo him back to a relaxed state - and Draco had to say, he could feel it take over, that hunting urge, to find and catch. Fury too, because the little creature wasn’t unknown to him. It was a bug, a very familiar and shitty bug. He skidded over to another table, waiting to see it appear again. “Sir! Sir! Your owl’s gone barmy!” Collins yelled in the distance and Draco followed not the sound of that too gruff voice but the scraping of a beetle panicking. He fluttered over another desk, another chair, landed on the corner to see the bulbous back disappear under a hole in another desk. No you don’t, Draco flew higher, not much but enough to give more force in his eventual stomp.“Bloody hell, do we have mice?”If this was Rita, he wasn’t going to say he wouldn’t just use his owl legs to stomp the living crap out of her. What was she doing here? What was she thinking of writing? Was it anything about Harry? Had it finally leaked? At the worst time possible (not only on the vote but him staying at Malfoy Manor might be revealed in the aftermath). He launched himself down, in a manner he wasn’t used to but had tried in the beginning of his transformations and now the same instinct like breathing took place. Battering his legs and talons against the wood, it splintered with ease - he screamed at her to come out. Not that she’d understand.“Fornax, what’s wrong?” Harry’s hand soothed over his back. Wait. Harry would know if he saw her. So, Draco shrieked, clawed into the hole he was trying to carve out of the desk. Only when he heard the scratching it was from the other side. Oh no, she wasn’t getting away, not in this lifetime. He returned to the desk, now unmanned and scooted across to the next. He could hear her so clearly. Where was she hiding? Piles of parchment fell, but he ignored the shuttering sound of them falling.“When was the last time you fed him, Sir? Maybe he’s just hungry?”He nipped whoever tried to crowd him. Get out of the way! Rita Skeeter was the vilest human being to live and Draco would rather be friendly with Collins. Another person tried to calm him and he hissed and nipped those fingers too. While she was stuck in the bullpen of Aurors and their paperwork, the chances she’d transform back were nill. She would flee first and Draco could only hope to find her now. “He’s a fussy eater, he wouldn’t be doing this if it’s just mice. It’s something else. Leave him be.” Someone else tried to distract him with a cut of jerky. Harry’s voice was enough to stop all that. “That’s an order. Get out of his way.” It made it easier to track, that the humans that were doing their writing stopped and moved out of his way, the others that tried to grab onto him, began to back away.Where was she? He hopped over another, sat on a chair and listened. Where was she? She was panicking, it was a fast noise he was searching for, something scurrying for their lives. There. She’d made a terrible error in trying to move from one row to the next row of tables and chairs. Owls were perfectly adapted at making no noise, Skeeter probably didn’t even know Draco was in the air above her. ‘Got you,’ he lunged down, caught her between the talons in one foot. If he wanted to, he could have crushed her into paste if his foot connected even the slightest. Trapping was the best, only, method Draco had right now.“I think it caught something.” An errant thought he could kill her now and no one would be the wiser - he could swallow the evidence and Rita Skeeter, the woman who’d posted all the cruelest and worst things about his son - all those awful bullshit stories about his only son - and his wife would be gone. Finally. He pushed his foot against her, saw the beetle squirm more and screamed at her. He wished sometimes, he was capable of murder.He picked her up, careful despite her flailing little limbs and returned to Harry. Who recognised the beastie immediately. “All that for a bug?” Another Auror said. “It’s not just any bug,” Collins griped. Those who knew scowled at the wriggling beetle in Harry’s palm. “That’s enough Rita. Unless you want me to hand you back to the owl, turn back,” Harry commanded and the entire department seemed to wait. Some wore confused faces, looking to their seniors to see if Harry Potter had really lost it. The beetle jumped from Harry’s hand and morphed and twisted as it fell. Rita was older, her hair grey and her glasses thicker. Though, her lipstick still was a vibrant red and Draco spied the notepad and auto-quill. Those, he’d need to rid her of those. Thankfully, the department couldn’t be held responsible for an owl’s actions.“Harry Potter, your bird almost killed me.” She pulled out a compact mirror and took a look at the damage. Draco was a little peeved how she didn’t care how she’d been caught so redhanded. “Shame that,” Collins added and Draco hooted back. He didn’t want to agree with him but he was the lesser of two idiots. She retouched her lipstick without a care as if the Aurors weren’t all glaring as if Harry wasn’t capable of squashing her with the very ceiling. Enough, the only reason Skeeter was being polite (or as polite as the woman could be) was because she still had her notes. Draco flew high up to perch on the lights - another Muggle technology to make its way into the Ministry - and waited. “Collins, mind if you escort Skeeter to the Minister? I imagine she’d like to hear why the press was trespassing.”“Just seeking the truth, dear.” She smiled and walked behind Collins and that was when Draco left his station. He grabbed her notes and was gone with them before she could defend against the theft. “That’s my property! I demand you to return it this instant.”Draco flew away, notepad and all and the entire Auror Department allowed him to leave. He hid away, not sure if he should tear and rip the notes apart or keep them and see just what Rita was trying to accomplish. Harry found him hiding in the rafters of one of the opened interrogation rooms. He relented the notepad first then stepped over to be carried back to Harry's Office. He shut the door, grumbling about Rita and how much of a pain she was. Draco could only hoot in agreement. Almost as soon as Harry had sat down and pushed the near empty notepad off to a drawer so no one could see it, a knock at the door had Draco unsettled. Who was it now?“Sir, I was told to ask you to sign off on this.” This Auror, with broad shoulders and a crooked nose stayed outside the office. Peeking in like some of the other Aurors before him. It was interesting: cliques of personnel and respect for Harry differing between them. Such might make earning back his famous name of a Dark Wizard Vanquisher more difficult. What was the curious point was this Auror didn’t lack awareness of how dismissive he’d said those words. “Do we know who she is?” Harry didn’t retaliate towards the disrespect, didn't so much as look up. Draco was happy to glare in his stead. “Elise Middleton. No employment records, no relatives, no friends. But has a swanky place. As it turns out, she has a letter from our resident Deatheater discussing services rendered.” He seemed proud of his assessment and wanted nothing more than Harry to sign the parchment that floated to his desk. “Which one?” Harry was starting another batch and if Draco knew any better he’d say Hermione sent him a nudge to be getting on too. Or maybe this was a Good Day. “Malfoy,” the Auror said as if Harry was an idiot. He sat up and Draco cocked his head to the side, was he really surprised Aurors wanted him in prison? No, but now? So close to a vote? “Red hair? Does she have red hair?” “No? Brunette.” Harry finally set on reading the file an action which resulted in the Auror clicking his tongue. “Sir, I can handle an uppity pureblood.” An uppity pureblood? Had his reputation dwindled so much he now didn’t strike even a hint of dread? The next time he was pulled in for an interview; witness or otherwise he would make it easier to pull blood from a dragon. “You can handle what I say you can handle and Draco Malfoy would eat you alive. Give me everything you have on Elise.” For what seemed like too long, the Auror deflated, a scoff in the air. Relented the file with no grace and left, a billowing Auror robe behind him. He returned and all but threw the file down on the desk and sulked away. Heavens these young Aurors had an attitude, Draco hopped around trying to place himself in a position he could read the file without it being obvious. The picture caught his eye. It was her. Siobhan, the Healer they knew as Siobhan, dead. He chirped and hopped around, trying to show his outrage. The photographs of the crime scene weren’t gruesome like some, wasn’t a horror which would haunt Draco’s nighttime. What he didn’t want to remember, was the hollowness of her face. She’d left less than a week ago and she was bones, skin tight over them. Harry unfolded a letter within the file itself and set it down as he frowned at the ‘evidence’.“Did you send her this?” Draco twisted his head upside down and read the letter. It was his handwriting, yes, though Draco would never have sent a letter with blots of ink marring the bottom. The tone of his letter was what most considered him to be, brash and demanding with little leeway for the recipient to say no. Hiring Siobhan was under the table as was her payments. She wouldn’t have kept this letter even if Draco had sent it to her.A fairly decent plant but not so convincing. Draco shook his head. “Damn it.” Harry sat back on his chair and he seemed tired. Too tired. “It says she died yesterday, a type of Starving Curse. That-- That can’t be coincidence, can it?” Whether it was supposed to be comforting or a reminder, Harry touched Draco’s wings and double checked where the runes and blood once were. “This was torture. Who, why would anyone torture a Healer?” She wasn’t really a Healer, Draco wanted to remind him. Who knew what kind of credentials died with her? A mix of Elise (the one they’d known as Siobhan) and Siobhian (the real one) might have had more than the basics of healing in her head.“Let’s say, Elise killed Siobhan, the real one, for whatever reason. And assumed her identity, became a Healer to those who want a discrete service.” Draco wasn’t sure who was capable of murder: he had always assumed he was capable, he would feel no remorse and no hesitation. “You hired her to look after me. No one else knew that, right? You didn’t tell anyone.” Another shake of the head and Draco tried to follow the logic. Moran and his father might have assumed he’d taken up a Healer, when instead he’d asked Blaise for help. Had Siobhan died because of him? Because Moran assumed the Healer in his house - and she had left a few times - was for him. “Let’s talk back at the Manor, later.” Harry didn’t speak much or offer him any pets. Such a change Draco had to consider Harry considered him guilty. That didn’t hurt - it annoyed. Weasley sat at his desk after lunch and Draco fluttered to watch him work for a time. No one would need Auror training to see he hated it here. He doodled on parchment, scoffed and shook his head reading file after file. A change from the usual cheery Ron from the Weasley’s joke shop. How much resentment could build in a few years? Draco left to sit on Collins’ desk and stare as he scratched and bled ink everywhere. What didn’t happen was the other Aurors no longer entered Harry’s office and Draco couldn’t see why. Another strange rule, one Draco wasn’t yet privy to. The younger lot were all gone by the days end and the older, doing paperwork and tying up loose ends were bent over desk and grateful at the clocks whistle. They left immediately. Harry wouldn't stay much longer and Draco flew home to wait. Draco fretted just a bit. Siobhan was dead. Somehow, someone considered her a big enough threat. Maybe it had nothing to do with Malfoy or voting. But Draco didn’t trust coincidences.Harry was barely through the Floo before Draco started to speak, his innocence was clear here. But guilt was a sticky emotion happy to cling to everyone for anything. “This is my fault. Moran must have seen her leave on her supply trips. He thought she cured me.” Would she still be alive if he’d demanded she not leave the Manor? Would she be alive if Draco had braved the world and obtained the ingredients she required. “It was Blaise wasn’t it?” Harry said not unloading his Auror demeanor. “Let’s not get into that right now.” Draco wasn’t going to say Blaise was working without a license and paid none of the taxes. “How, why would he bother killing her? She said she was leaving. She was out of here.” Death, murder specifically was a hunted crime and not one easily ignored or escaped. Why kill a threat if all the threat needed was another threat in its stead? No reason. Unless Siobhan knew more than she let on. Unless she was planted here. Why? Her presence hadn’t interfered with anything. Nor did she seem interested in the Dark Artefacts. It didn’t make any sense. If she was planted, why did her presence make whoever did this kill her. If she wasn’t one why not simply offer her more Galleons than Draco. “Unless he’s going to attack again and wants to make sure you don’t end up cured the next time round.” Draco flinched, Harry was a tad intimidating with his Auror reds. And if Moran was going to come here and try to kill him - probably after the Rings of Celius did their job and Draco was then disposable - then Harry couldn’t be here. Not anymore, not while he was ill and weaker than normal. Damage control, minimising casualties tasks he was more than capable. He moved then towards the lab, Harry following. “You can’t stay here, you aren’t well enough. I’ll make a batch for you--” Right, Harry still required potions and going by the shelf life of some of the ingredients he might have to make them in batches of twelve. Draco was pulled, physically, out his thoughts as Harry grabbed his elbow and looked at with such a strange mixture of emotion Draco would need months to study it to figure them all out. “You can’t stay here, Moran’s coming to kill you.” A hint of anger, worry, and such an anxious fidget coupled with the juxtaposed squared shoulders ready for a fight. Draco didn’t know what to make of it. He sighed. Today after the orders from Hermione he wanted to write a few letters and test his hypothesis about Harry. Now Potter was in his Save Everyone mode and Draco wasn’t sure if a quick drink would help remind Harry he wasn’t at work anymore. Moran wouldn’t attack, not until he had the rings. Draco had time, as little a time as it was.If this was for the vote, even an hour or so beforehand, if Draco’s hand was taken by the ring then all his work was dead in the water. He’d vote whatever way he was told. And he’d tell whoever whatever, whatever Moran wanted.“Why don’t we go for that drink?” His distraction was obvious and Harry was unimpressed. Draco decided to up the ante. “I rather need one right about now. Who do you think would be stupid enough to attack the Minister’s table?” Harry hesitated and it meant his defeat as Draco continued, “I haven’t been to the Leaky in a while. Do they still sell that awful vintage?”“We are talking about this when we get back.” His nostrils flared but he was far from sulking, if anything Draco was sure if Potter was adamant in his protection they wouldn’t be leaving, just reinforcing and doubling wards and protections. “Certainly,” Draco lied. “I’ll be in the lab till then.” Making sleeping potions for Harry soon to be departure and writing an accusing letter to Nott about his lack of opinion on the voting world. How bad could a drink or two with Harry's little entourage go? By then, Draco hoped to return to several cauldrons bubbling and an answer to how Harry’s mind worked. He paused over adding his signature. Someone had done a fantastic job copying it. Someone who had a signed letter to practise repeatedly. Draco didn’t sign off and sent the letter to Nott. He really needed a drink the longer he thought about it. The cherub hadn’t been Siobhan Goven or Elise (and he was sure he would always think of the woman as Siobhan rather than Elise). Now, he wasn’t sure. Nott could always be trying to distract him. After the drink (or two, or five, or the whole night) Draco would revisit the memory of the scrawl Nott had sent him. It calmed him, though. He had time and he would need to wait till Nott’s reply. With two sets of fakes in the house, Draco wasn’t so sure Moran would pick even a correct pair never mind the real ones. Something was missing, something crucial. He pushed the niggling and nagging thought aside and went to see if Harry had dressed down from his uniform. Tonight he’d have an answer to at least one of his hypotheses. If Harry’s friends didn’t murder him first.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Two conditions.” Harry stood at the Floo, arms crossed and refusing to move already making Draco want to comment on how short in stature he was really. Still, what a thing to say. Draco made sure to look down his nose. What could possibly warrant conditions? Or were these Harry’s true feelings showing through? Did he expect Draco to sit and insult everyone? Bully and blackmail his way into conversation because Draco felt out of place?“You think you can give me conditions?” Harry didn’t move.Foresight told Draco if he didn’t allow Harry this, they’d do more than bicker. No, Potter would argue and Draco would too and it was entirely in the realm of possibility Draco would uninvite himself in a last grab to win said argument. Leaky Cauldron outing abandoned and both sulking at their own losses. Sighing at the determination on Harry’s face, Draco twirled a Galleon between his fingers. He wasn’t thrilled at the idea of spending time with most of them but it did give him an excuse to leave here. A much needed distraction was in order. Tutting, Draco conceded. “Let’s hear it.” Hearing them didn’t mean accepting them in any capacity and Harry did seem to perk up at the very idea Draco was going to listen to these supposed conditions.“Just if we’re coming back here drunk it’d make us sitting ducks, so let’s not drink too much.”Draco had no idea what that turn of phrase meant (why ducks, why sitting, why was a duck sitting bad?). An explanation never came and Draco wished Muggles didn’t have so many sayings involving animals. “And?” He pretended to agree minus the duck part, all he had to do was not get off his face with FireWhiskey and it wouldn’t be an issue. As if Draco would hand people he hadn’t seen in months ammunition against him. Playing peacemaker didn’t feel right. It went against everything Draco was brought up and taught. People played peacemaker to him, not the other way around. But he didn’t want to stay here, alone, thoughts of a murderer on his mind for the rest of the night. He’d win one over Harry later. His hand went to rub his neck and Harry scuffled his shoes again. “I mean- It’s – Are we going to say anything?”Allowing such an idea to sink in was dangerous. And very, very stupid. “So the whole night can be questions? From your wife and brother-in-law? From my boss? I don’t think so.” The horror, he could imagine Hermione and her slew of questions. Not over how or why but in an effort to make sure he wasn’t trying to hurt Potter or take advantage. Sometimes he wondered if Hermione remembered they were all adults capable of their own decisions. “Yeah, okay.” He was disappointed. Which was a curious and frankly crazy reaction. Had he forgotten about keeping this as far away from the newspapers as possible? What if Rita was sniffing around? What if someone overheard? Draco would never be pleased at being a secret – he liked attention especially from those he liked. Really, was there a better feeling than walking into a place and the one person who everyone clamoured for attention only wanted to talk to him? But the idea of revealing to Harry’s friends - and Draco still wasn’t sure this was sane even going to the Leaky - and telling them all about it was madness. He could hear them accuse Draco already of tricking or manipulating. A drink, that’s all Draco wanted. Nothing dramatic or newsworthy was to happen tonight. Fixing his collar for the third time, Draco told himself how he was perfect and shouldn’t be too worried. Luna would be there. “And about Siobhan, I mean Elise--” Draco stamped out that line of chatter. He didn’t want to waste another second considering who he’d allowed in his home. “We didn’t know her. It doesn’t matter.”Harry did this little intake of breath and Draco knew then he had said the wrong thing. “It doesn’t matter? She saved my life--” The annoyance was ramping up already. “Still a fraud.” “That’s it?” Harry accused him and it settled under Draco’s skin. “You were the one who suggested she killed the other woman. Fraud and potential murderer.” His reminder seemed to calm Harry if only for a moment.“I don’t think she was a bad person--”“She was a Healer, paid to take care of Harry Potter. Do you think she’d be anything but reasonable?” Harry could present whatever insightful, evidence to how nice Siobhan was but when Draco was paying her. When she was obviously such a fan of Harry Potter, it wasn’t a stretch to say she was on her best behaviour. She could’ve murdered crups in her free time.“It doesn’t mean she deserves...”Ah. That was it. Surely Potter should know Draco wasn’t the type to sob over every little bad event in his life? Or had he decided since he’d seen him cry a couple of times then Siobhan deserved some tears too. Harry’s opinion was not a fact, no matter how much he felt it fact – Siobhan could have been here to swindle or kill and neither would have been any the wiser. Being the head of a department had only made Harry more dogmatic in spreading around his morality. He wasn’t upset but it didn’t mean he hadn’t felt anything, and the weight of guilt amplified and made him sneer. “Don’t take my lack of tears to mean I’m pleased with her death. She shouldn’t be dead but she is. Let’s just get to the Leaky.”Harry didn’t say another word. Maybe he’d realised how crap it was to be accused of not caring simply because Draco wasn’t beside himself. It was times like this, Draco doubted not Harry’s affections but how it would ever be possible to trust him if he was so quick to condemn. Really, Draco was awaiting an argument which would force Harry far away and have him claiming his feelings were no longer there.Arriving at the Leaky Cauldron with Harry Potter afforded Draco a few glances his way. A few others greeted Harry before he made it to the table. If Draco was smug to sit at the table with Harry, he made sure to show it. Only two people had arrived before them, Ron and Luna who sat across from each other. Weasley was already drinking a FireWhiskey by the time they reached the more secluded seating in the dingiest corner. Draco smiled warmly as Luna patted the chair next to her. Sadly, the wooden stool was startled and fled – a few yells of surprise coming from those it knocked out of the way. Well, he didn’t have to sit next to her, he supposed. He glanced over to the other tables, curious to see if anyone was going to comment or control the furniture. They didn’t mind it, even as the barstool dived under a witch's feet. “Luna,” Harry greeted and sat next to her. “Ron.” Draco sat between Ron and Harry, if only to try and ease how everyone seemed to tense at the fact Ron only nodded in return, unhappy the nicest way to put how his face tripped him. And the way both Ron and Harry didn’t want to look at each was one thing, having to put up with an awkward atmosphere (and Draco and Harry hadn’t even said a word about being a ‘thing’, whatever this ‘thing’ was) was another. Spying the gaudy orange, Draco decided to prod Weasley with a very easy and safe bet of conversation.“Tell me you aren’t still a Cannons fan Weasley?”To ever state the Cannons were a good team was laughable - as Draco tried to reason with the fanatic Ron, possibly the only fan of them still paying for tickets. Arguing they were good, in the 19th century, did not lend any credit to Ron’s loyalty. Quidditch was a safe topic, leaving Luna and Harry to chat between themselves. Whoever had purchased the first round - and Ron was looking mighty likely right about now - had poured two butterbeers, the rest being unopened FireWhiskeys in the centre of the table. Neville and Seamus arrived, with Neville seeming harassed by a boisterous Seamus who was announcing bets. If Neville could drink a dozen FireWhiskeys Draco would find a unicorn to befriend because this couldn’t be reality. The surprise on their faces at seeing Draco sitting here between Harry Trying to Be Civil and Ron Who Didn’t Want to Talk was off putting. He wasn't a recluse, he went places. Neville was the one who sat next to Draco - Ron happy to budge up and give Seamus some room too. Thankfully the extra people allowed Harry and Ron to talk without having to Talk. Seamus joined in on the Quidditch patter, laughing about how shite Puddlemere did last week and Draco trying to defend it was all because the Keeper was new and young and foolish and shouldn’t have been in the team in the first place and— The person Draco least wanted to see came in loud and chatty and Draco could feel all his muscles tense and cramp. How bad of an idea was this? Harry bumped shoulders with him as he leaned over and grabbed two FireWhiskeys from the centre of the table. He placed one in front of him and Draco was glad to have a distraction.“Harry! Seems you drag someone new along every time you get here.” Ginny smiled, exchanged a kiss on the cheek and squeezed in next to Harry. He wanted to say the tension which flared was just his imagination. But Luna cleared her throat and sipped at her own FireWhiskey and Neville might as well as drowned himself in his glass of butterbeer. “Saving the best till last, clearly,” Draco said and the atmosphere froze for a second (he shouldn’t have said it, he shouldn’t be here) as Ginny blinked. All until Ron laughed as did Seamus and Ginny seemed to smile at him for the first time.“Ye walked into that one Gin.” Seamus grabbed his drink and drank deep.And Draco didn’t know what to say or do. Wasn’t she scared of him? Was this a Gryffindor move? Draco made a point to look away, not to interfere. Was this for the adoring public? Was this all an act? If so, this was the more uncomfortable experience out of the two. Harry and Ginny had spent a day together, when looking to buy for the party. They talked, then. Really talked. Draco shifted in his seat. (They were married). So it stands to reason they would sit (a little close) next to each other. The public eye wouldn’t allow Harry to flirt with anyone else. If Harry did flirt with Ginny, and the very thought, the image burning in his head was unsettling in many aspects. He couldn’t be mad, not really. He’d planned this at one point! He’d leave, if they did, an excuse, he would need an excuse.Fighting the urge to look over, Draco rotated the bottle in his hands and tried not to listen in on what Ginny was saying. Ginny and Seamus chatted, their tones a tad higher than normal and gave off the impression they’d had a few drinks before arriving. Luna and Neville whispered to one another and Draco was entirely sure with how Neville stared at him - it was definitely about him being here. The chairs were awkward and old, the smell of the Leaky never improved, regardless of the cleaning charms used and whatever was in the air stuck to the back of Draco’s throat from the moment he sat down. What did improve the experience was Draco did have people now around him, chatting and being content to sit by him. Not once had Draco received a glare. Yet. He was curious if that would change. Especially when Harry started trying to pull his attention back, away from Luna and Draco ignored him more. Draco was both impressed at how Harry could multitask if he set his mind to it. Chatting to his wife, dealing with the odd comment from Seamus, who seemed to have taken more than just a pre-drink before arriving here and very sneakily squeezing Draco’s knee under the table. The first time, he might have choked on his FireWhiskey as a jolt run up his thigh but he recovered faster than anyone else could spy an issue. And really, it was the start of a terrible competition between the two, Harry just didn’t know it yet.Ron nursed his FireWhiskey until his wife appeared, hair still a frizzled mess. Harry bumped his shoulder against his and Draco decided to take it more as a mini pep talk and not a flirtatious gesture. Comforting but Draco still felt like an outsider. “The meeting overran and the minutes weren’t even the slightest bit accurate.” Hermione didn’t seem at all phased by his presence and took the last butterbeer from the centre of the table. She seemed to have some power of presence as the chairs were eager to move. One tried to flee to the bar itself and was stunned by the mean looking bartender back into place. Draco and Luna chatted, an occasional point noted by Neville - and somehow, Draco wasn’t sure how - they were talking about plants. Plants. How dull had Draco grown to be discussing this topic? Luna about creatures favourites, Draco about potion application and Neville, well the actual herbology. Drinking his second FireWhiskey, Draco made a very strict point not too look over to Harry and Ginny. He could hear them whispering to each other now too.He glared at the bottle and its label. He wanted— He half wanted to—No, he really wanted— Nudging Potter under the table didn’t so much as get him a twitch. “So, how’d the Slytherins do it? Any drinking games or are you all dull like the Ravenclaws?” Seamus asked, and it garnered more attention back at Draco. The Golden Couple stopped chatting. Good.“The favoured one was the Revealing Whisper.” Maybe he should supply it wasn’t really a game? More of a way to goad and blackmail those into submission. Draco was always quite good - the best - at it in being able to rouse a reaction from most people effortlessly. Pansy was pretty poor overall, a player who liked to think she was good at it. Blaise had his moments. Nott was a fiend. “How do you play?” Hermione was naive to think Draco was the type to dictate rules (for a game that was the dullest way possible to show it off). Imagine trying to explain what Quidditch was without a broom, without a Snitch? No fun, whatsoever.“I’ll demonstrate. I'll make Neville blush.” The table did not believe him, Neville included. Draco made a point not to look at Harry because he was sure if he had he’d be using him as a prop in this demonstration - just to erase some of this petty jealousy. He whispered in Neville’s ear how grateful he was he hadn’t shunned Scorpius and was undoubtedly the best Herbology teacher to set foot in Hogwarts. It took longer for Draco to speak than the colour did to rise. Laughing at his handiwork, Draco was more relaxed now. Nothing he couldn’t handle, no one he couldn’t handle. Harry had a — well one of those stares Draco was used to in Hogwarts. Whatever had upset him, he couldn’t be sure if it was his fault or not. What was making Neville embarrassed such a terrible thing? Did he consider this bullying? “Bloody hell, your face is beetroot.” Ron laughed again, this time more in surprise than humour. Neville himself was turning a grand colour and Draco wondered how many compliments he’d received in his lifetime (whereby nothing was related to herbology homework). Draco was complimented everyday as a child, as an adult? Too few and far in between. He wondered, glancing back at Harry—Still. Staring.—How many compliments did he get? That didn’t involve the War? That didn’t involve Harry killing Voldemort, or surviving him like a bad cold. How many people complimented him on what he did out of necessity? What exactly did Harry want to hear? The man loathed the papers, was uncomfortable with fans gushing over him, any praise was usually dismissed or pushed away. What did Harry want? Draco glanced away, not keen to follow that train of thought with so many eyes watching. “So now, Neville buy a round to keep what I said secret or announce what made you blush and I buy the round.” Draco smirked, he knew how this was going to turn out. But he had to keep that to himself. Gryffindors had such an ego they’d do silly revenge like putting themselves in more trouble if it meant someone else fell too. The Weasley Twins were legendary in that regard and even Scorpius had heard of their exploits, decades later. Vindictive was a Gryffindor trait because they believed they were owed everything because the were the Brave House. Slytherins were ambitions believing they deserved it once everything was in place to succeed. Slytherin’s would rather have a grudge than act on it and be caught out. “Come on mate, what’d he say?” Ron and Seamus were spilling onto the table as they tried to close in on Neville. Who was still red but trying hard to turn invisible or sink into the chair and disappear.“Yeah, don’t let Malfoy win,” Seamus added.Neville faltered. The problem with Revealing Whisper was, embarrass someone enough and they’d utter not a word of it - even if it was in their favour. Right now Neville could say it word for word: but the point was, Draco could deny it. He supposed he should have mentioned that aspect. Lying and goading were the key points to this game. Knowing how someone would react versus how they thought of loss. Neville was not egotistical, he’d let this slide. “I’ll buy a round. I really can’t have too much, school tomorrow.” Neville sipped at his butterbeer and all round the table was the sound of disappointment. After the demonstration, Hermione in her usual fashion started to ask a series of questions. Posed probably to remove all fun from the game. “Does it have to be blushing? What happens if they don’t do what you say? Can you really say anything? What if it’s hurtful?” Draco was glad it was Ron who hushed her, claiming to play the game was the best way to test it out. She was never very confident in practical tests or any good at getting others to do work that didn’t involve a chain of command. Ron and Ginny were thwarted by their spouses, each having to give the table a round of drinks. Seamus attempted to make Harry laugh but failed and begrudgingly handed over the next round.“Miserable bastard!” He’d yelled so loud it went over the chatter of the Leaky and a few other drunks from across the way booed alongside him. It was then Draco realised how full the Leaky was, not a chair in sight unaccompanied and the noise had steadily risen to a constant chatter from all around. Luna was a terror, not choosing emotions but simple expressions. “I’ll make him scrunch his nose!” Whether it was as unconventional as her or not, it netted the table another two rounds of drinks. Draco by this point was no longer concerned over Harry’s closeness with his wife. Too warm, too fuzzy to really be mad at anything, Draco ended up following Seamus and resting on the table too. Harry wasn’t paying him any attention now. That made winning a bit more difficult.Back around the table and again, it was Neville’s turn. He had nursed the same glass of beer for the whole night. He’d refused the other turns, any attempt to get involved and Draco wondered if he’d burned another bridge. Another sip of FireWhiskey and Neville forced out a sigh, he seemed to be arguing with himself going by the frown. Once this one was done, Draco could make a start on the next one - a round bought by Ginny.“I’ll make Draco blush.”Draco blinked. How drunk was he right now, had he heard that right? He didn’t think he drank so much but the hallucination said otherwise. “Payback!” Seamus yelled, a victory pint thrust into the air, only to slouch back into his seat. “I forgot you were a Gryffindor, Longbottom.” Draco rolled his eyes and leaned closer. What could Neville possibly know - think he knew - which would make Draco Malfoy blush? The idiot, this was the easiest Whisper he’d ever had. Go on then. Neville whispered in his ear, after a slight hesitation sounded far too confident.“At the party, Luna and I both know what you and Harry sneaked away for and it wasn’t to talk about politics.”Draco cringed so hard he might have pulled a muscle. “Fuck.” Scowling he shoved the unopened FireWhiskey in front of Neville. “Oh, just take the bloody thing.” Neville practically preened at the trophy FireWhiskey and the whole table erupted.“Holy shit!” Ron’s roaring laughter made it all too obvious the heat on his face was noticeable. “Neville, you have to tell us. Forget it, tell me.”Luna was eye-wide and grinning. “Draco, you’re very red.”Why thank you Luna, for pointing it out for the rest of the table, Draco wanted to snap and sneer but her giggling away was enough to ease the sting of his ego. “Beaten by a Gryffindor, this is ridiculous. Fine. I’ll buy you all a round.” He was so glad no Slytherin was close by. Losing to a Gryffindor had some connotations: ones which said very little on Draco’s ability and intellect. Slinking and pushing passed the crowd, Draco wanted to just keep walking and leave. He ordered the drinks and waited. Waited and hoped the tingle on his face would leave. “You alright there?” Harry said close in his ear, the Leaky now jumping - the furniture occasionally trying to make a leg for it out the door. Too many conversations made the Leaky sound like a droning Ministry office. They could talk and Draco doubted anyone would be able to make out the conversation. No wonder they’d met so early, else they’d never have found a place big enough for all of them to sit and drink. “Apparently—” Draco would have said, told Harry the truth if only it wouldn’t make things awkward. Ron and Harry were already difficult to talk around. Knowing Neville and Luna knew would make it worse. After the drinking, once they were alone, Draco would tell him then. “Neville thinks compliments are worthy of revenge.”It was a shift. From the curiosity, mixed with amusement and a buzz at finding out to — well, Draco watched as the words seemed to have taken Harry not by surprise but—“You complimented Neville?”Oh. It wasn’t jealousy, Draco could recognise it well, nothing quite so hateful. No, Harry was hurt. Was he right back at the crups? Harry did want a compliment, in the same manner Draco wanted attention. What Harry wanted was affection then. Wasn’t it? Glancing back at the table he saw Ginny laugh at whatever Hermione said, her hands animated and moving fast. A thud not unlike panic made Draco focus, he couldn’t let this opportunity slip by. He stepped into Harry’s space, not an uncommon situation with people pushing to and fro. He made damned sure no one but Harry would hear this. Unlike all the hushed and low voices at the table, trying to elicit any reaction Draco was going to bet Harry didn’t react. For now. He’d try in his usual way to keep his emotions under control, and he’d fail. “We could be having more fun just the two of us.” He said in Harry’s ear. It was pleasing to see how Harry’s posture straightened and froze. Pulling back and watching how Potter had to close his eyes for a second and breathe in was enough to soothe Draco’s pride completely. “Now take your drink and go sit down.” Draco said more in keeping with how he spoke to everyone else. He handed off a FireWhiskey.Harry had taken to grabbing Draco’s wrist again, the same hand which held his own drink. The rest were levitating in the air waiting to follow. And there it was, the failure to keep his emotions contained.“We could?”If Draco was an idiotic Gryffindor, the type that flung themselves into action while also not thinking of consequences, Draco would have snogged Harry right there near the bar with pushy witches and wizards wanting another refill. Harry was definitely weighing up something in his head, a slight air of frustration in how he kept a hold of Draco’s wrist. Could he feel the thrum in his veins, could Potter tell how much it wasn’t just a bluff?“Go sit down.” It was entirely possible Harry had the same idea and Draco reminded him of where they were. What barmy ideas Harry had and still, Draco wasn’t sure it was the worst. He glanced back at the table, they were oblivious. “Your wife is probably missing you.”Harry left him at the bar and returned to the table and Draco was the one to heave a sigh, try as he might rid himself of this energy. When Draco sat back down, it wasn’t in his seat. Everyone had shifted around and Ginny, Hermione and Neville were off to one side. Sitting next to Harry without having someone to speak immediately to his right was unbalancing. Mainly because now Draco was the one in the corner with Harry too close. Harry might as well have cast a spell to scold his skin through his clothing as they sat thigh to hip together. (He was doing this on purpose, Draco decided). But with everyone, Seamus leaning on Ginny, Ron on Hermione and Luna swaying from side to side and bumping between Ginny and Neville this wasn’t noteworthy. “I’ll be heading in a bit, First Years tomorrow with Mandrakes,” Neville said, picking up his prized FireWhiskey and Draco made a point to look away.He was overheating now, from the warmth of the Leaky Cauldron and so many people crammed into the tiny place. He’d only said it to rile Potter. But honestly, a tiny voice, a picture played in his head. What would everyone do if Harry did just snog him right here? Because that ridiculous little voice in his head was also wanting to leave and take Harry with him. Because they probably could have more fun away from this place.What Draco really wanted was—The game had continued on. And Harry didn’t so much as glance in his direction. No, he chatted with Ginny and Draco scowled. Another few rounds, some opting out if they hadn’t finished their drinks. Draco refused to join in at any point now. Luna was just making things up as she went but Draco couldn’t remember her losing any Whispers. “Seriously, Gin aren’t you supposed to know all Harry’s dirty little secrets? How can you not know?” Seamus groaned as yet again Harry turned out to be the victor. Everyone gave commiserations to Seamus, he hadn’t won once. Perhaps he’d had a little too much to drink. “He’s just not the blushing sort.” Ginny shrugged, didn’t seem to think what she was saying was a lie. It was a lie. Such a terrible lie. Maybe, if Hermione had said it, Draco wouldn’t have objected. Because Harry liked to lie to Hermione and Ron. “Potter’s easy to turn red,” he sneered, refusing to accept any more FireWhiskey in case his self-control went with it.“Don’t you start--” Harry panicked, clear as day and everyone including Draco gauged this with interest, no doubt for entirely different reasons. Ha. This was going to be easier than Neville. “Go on then, he’s not bought a round yet the cheap bastard,” Seamus slurred and Ginny had a smile that perhaps should count as a warning. As someone straining to see what Draco was up to and as someone Draco had been far too wary of all evening. Harry was grimacing as he tilted his head and moved closer to listen and Draco decided then, he wanted out of here. Away from the Manor, away from all the bullshit that’d been following him for these long months. He wanted Harry to leave. But knowing him, he wouldn’t just abandoned his friends. And it was doubtful Draco could say sweet nothings and have Harry believe he meant them. Trying to sound seductive but not looking it was near impossible, not with FireWhiskey making him less able to compartmentalize. What Draco needed was something Harry couldn’t argue as a lie, only said to win this game. If they were alone here, Harry’s attention would be so simple. So easy to win and return.Draco told him, “So, when are we leaving?” An innocent enough question one which didn’t so much as make Potter blink. Which was fine, he was just testing how loud his not-quite-sober, not-drunk voice was under the too interested ears of the entire table. Fine, he supposed, but to make sure, Draco strained to whisper in Harry's ear, hand shielding his lips even from view. Granger could probably lip-read. “We could make up for lost time if we leave now.”Seamus grumbled, complained Malfoy was lying and Ron offered his sympathy at not managing it. However, Draco sat back and watched, a satisfied smirk on his face. He was waiting for it. Harry didn’t turn like Neville, it took time, it took Harry a few imaginary scenarios to finally cover his face in defeat. Potter did like to think he was in charge of his emotions. “Damn it.” Really, Draco couldn’t say it was all down to the question or its implications, the FireWhiskey helped turn most people’s faces ruddy. And while Draco basked in his victory and the rest of the table chatted, trying to figure out the what’s and the how’s Ginny snorted so loud it made Hermione worried she’d choked on air.“What did he say? Harry?” Ginny was in hysterics, laughter louder than anyone else. Most were laughing, minus Luna and... Wait. Where was Neville? He caught the man’s back only to see him leave. Bugger. He hadn’t been focussed to hear him say goodbye.Damn it. He had to-- “I’ll give you five minutes to control yourself,” Draco gave a pat on Harry’s back as he turned redder, moved to go after Neville because for once, Draco had to make sure the Gryffindor wasn’t going to hold their old feuds against him even at the expense of Harry. “Where’re you going?” Harry sounded odd again and Draco wasn’t near drunk enough to consider it unrelated to hunting down Neville before he returned to Hogwarts. Draco waved the question away, he didn’t have time to explain. As soon as he stepped outside he regretted it, the crisp air making him dizzier and nauseated. Neville was wrapped up in such a long, hideous scarf, Draco was sure it could strangle his entire classroom of children. Thankfully it made it easier to catch him and he whirled around, surprise evident on his face. He’d carried the trophy whiskey unopened with him and Draco blinked at seeing it. “You won’t say anything, will you?” The words all sort of just vomited out, with no eloquence or mask for his worry.“Would anyone believe me?” Neville was far too humoured by all this. He knew too much. Chances were no. Not many would consider that possible. Not when there were rooms in the Ministry hexed and scarred by impromptu duels where both Harry and Draco just couldn’t deal with each other any more. Neville’s smile fell and Draco wondered if people could read his mind. His aunt had taught him to keep the walls up, no matter what. “You were a bully - an awful person in school and I thought Harry was barmy letting you off.” Neville sighed and conceded and Draco was not so soft as to think it was because he might have looked hurt over the truth. “And then Luna said I should give you a chance because you were different now.”Luna was darling. He’d buy her a new cloak too. “Am I?” Different. Was he different to how naive he was in Hogwarts? Thinking back, he didn’t consider his comments as hurtful as some made them out to be but - but Hermione was tortured and Harry almost died and Draco realised he was being young and dumb and petty. He wasn’t cruel, he didn’t have that in him necessarily; he was a bully but not one who’d run around casting Dark Magic and gleefully taking those Carrow Classes. Without a thought to what domination and rule meant: he’d only ever been taught he would be at the top and all others below. Neville was stronger than Draco ever thought possible and it was embarrassing because even back then when he was more cowardly than brave he’d still knew more about the world than Draco did. “Not so different, but different where it counts, I suppose. Scorpius is a good kid so you did something right.” That brightened him up from his anxious idea of having to blackmail Neville to keep quiet or return and convince Harry to somehow shut his friend up. What Draco had found was many people were eager to listen to Potter until he tried to mention forgiveness - and not for Draco - but for those like Blaise who’d fled and returned, branded ‘coward’ to the world for not fighting the ‘good fight’ and Draco wasn’t sure where the animosity started or ended. Just Blaise didn’t return to take his N.E.W.T.s either.“Well, I have to get to it. I’ve got to do my rounds and water the plants. The Greenhouses are prohibited to all students and I’m the only one who has access right now.” Neville made an awkward smile, lifted the FireWhiskey as if to use as a prop. Whatever he said after that Draco missed. He stared at Neville for so long, he started to shift and make excuses to leave. “Access?” Draco repeated and Neville paled in the cold, only his nose reddening. And like a clock striking the hour, a question leapt into his head Draco had never considered. Access. Siobhan’s access. Not over the Artefacts or over Potter, no her access in being in the Manor whenever Harry and Draco had left. She’d had her rest after taking care of Potter through a rough night or she’d make some more potions or she’d jot down every little job she did so Draco paid her just right for her services. But she was in the Manor whenever Draco left for a quick jaunt outside, a meeting elsewhere. What if Harry was right, somewhat? Siobhan was only a Healer doing her job but — what if it wasn’t who knew of her presence which killed her. Quite the opposite. What if she knew of the culprit’s identity? What if while Harry and Draco were out someone tried to sneak into the Manor, tried to see if Draco was around to attack and take prisoner. What if Siobhan's reluctance in saying anything was because she knew the person - or their capabilities? “What?”Because she was scared. She knew death was closing in on her if she stayed. Was she warned to leave? And if she was, was it simply a fail-safe to make sure Draco didn’t hear back about who was sneaking around his house. The Cherub, Nott warned was a liar. Could they also be a killer? Was this vote truly so necessary to fail and never be uttered again? Why the desperation? Was it possible, no, probable Siobhan had seen the intruder before her abrupt departure? Sometime after the party she’d been threatened, Draco couldn’t think of any other time when he was unaware where she’d gone. Ginny and Harry might have seen something, when they were off shopping. He’d need to ask. “Thanks, you just gave me an idea.” He clapped Neville’s shoulder and made his way back to Harry.Hopefully he’d want to leave soon.Slipping back into the Leaky Cauldron he didn’t return immediately to his seat. He hovered near the bar, unsure how to process so much while his most prominent thought was to pull off his robes and cool down – returning into this oven hadn’t helped matters. Hopefully Harry wanted to leave now.Harry was slipping out of his seat and, if anyone else saw how Harry was far too eager upon seeing him they might be in trouble. “I’ll need to apparate Draco home--” and there were better lies to sneak away, more obvious lies. Less lies that made Draco seem like a lightweight. Ginny was pulling on his arm to sit down and have another round. “You most certainly do not.” Draco grabbed the scruff of Harry’s clothing and yanked him far away for Ginny to lose her husband and apparated. Least this way, Draco was only making a point. No one would think it was all to steal Harry Potter from Co. to get off with each other like they were teenagers who couldn’t control themselves. Moving while apparating was never a smart idea. Because all actions had some follow-through, a continuation and Draco’s grab ended up with his knuckles hitting against the wall. Harry stumbled back and Draco kept hold of him. “I said not to drink--” Harry must have seen the non-Manor-ness of this house, of his secret hidden away house. Harry’s words had a nervous edge to them. Whether it was because they were closer again or because Draco was making it very obvious he didn’t appreciate the lie, Harry stumbled over his words. “Oh, you remembered this place? I have to see somewhere a couple of times before I can--” he didn’t, wasn’t allowed to finish such a dull anecdote. First, Draco had a hypothesis to test so he kissed him quiet. So slow and tender, Harry sighed against him as he tugged at Potter’s already wild hair. If they’d done this in the Leaky, Draco wondered how many people would gawk at the Saviour of the Wizarding World was so lost in a kiss (by a Deatheater). And he forgot momentarily, too taken by how keen Harry pawed at his back he had any plan. A pleasant noise vibrated between them and Draco couldn’t say if it was from him or Potter or both. Still not close enough, the little voice said and – no - Draco pulled back, determined to have some answers. It was difficult to get the words out when he had to air in his lungs and he was far too interested in Harry’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. “I thought you were jealous, but you weren’t were you?” Draco tried not to goad him but his arrogant lilt wasn't so easy to avoid. Some habits were more difficult to break. “Not even when you heard I complimented Neville. Isn’t that interesting?”“I wasn’t jealous.” Harry bit it out like Draco had insulted him. (My, my, how defensive). But it told a great deal more than a few heated stares could ever tell. “Do you want to hear what I think? What I really think about you?” He didn’t have to drop his voice, but he did. Harry swallowed and his jaw twitched and Draco knew then, he’d won. Taking a deep breath like he was needing a second to confirm he was a Gryffindor eager to dive into the unknown he said, “Tell me.”As much as Draco was happy to divulge affection – he was kind to those he considered worthy of his time and attention – he wasn’t sure he could bare to speak his thoughts with those eyes baring into him. So, he hid, in plain sight and started to whisper into Harry’s ear. “I think you’re the sort that keeps temptation near so you can feel good whenever you deny yourself. How good of you to sit by my side and ignore me when you wanted to do anything but.” Never stopping, never checking on how Harry was taking these little revelations, Draco kept talking. Telling the truth was much easier when Draco couldn’t see the consequences of it, couldn’t see Harry’s face morph into how he was feeling about said truths. No, it was easier to admit secrets away from those ridiculous green eyes of his. Draco told him everything. Well as much as he could put into words and somehow compliment him because – he was sure – that was what Potter had secretly wanted. Acknowledgement and affection without the gushing selfish manner of a fanatic that knew nothing but factoids from a paper. How when Harry was focussed on something, anything, someone it was extraordinary and to a man who’d thought the world would fawn over him; it made Draco feel like the centre of attention whenever turned his way. And it was the same focus, which for the most part was never put into anything Harry found uninteresting or unimportant - and it made whatever he put effort into seem wholly, worldly important. The only reaction he could make from Harry was he’d went very, very still. So, Draco continued on.Draco assumed that trait to lead was why the Aurors hadn’t shunned him completely, no leaks making their way to the papers. Because Potter did always seem to inspire loyalty (a bizarre trait to be sure because there was no real test, no real way to know who would crack under the pressure). And then, especially Harry had to consider Draco would trust his judgement (there was a reason why he allowed the Albus-Scorpius separation fiasco as much as he’d pleaded for Harry to reconsider) and not go against it in the end. Draco did admittedly trust Potter more than anyone else, really.Harry might be very mad, or not, Draco couldn’t tell, only he seemed to be so tense, hands clenched into Draco’s robes so tight he could feel the tremble. But now, Draco rambled unable to think of how to backtrack if Harry was somehow offended or thought to find no truth in these words. So, Draco kept going.How that bloody Hippogriff in Hogwarts was the very proof Potter was far too good - and he didn’t mean it in a Saintly Potter way either. The beast was awful and clearly crazy and too proud to be around students and somehow, somehow the beast escaped its fate to die. When he’d heard it alive and Hermione had hinted towards why, back when he held the last timeturner around his neck. Most people would have given up. Most people wouldn’t dare mess with a bloody timeturner. And Harry had done that because he always did seem to try and do ‘the right thing’, whatever that bloody meant and went out of his way to save a creature that he didn’t actually need to save. Because Draco didn’t, was never raised to think of another person's needs, to show them mercy and ‘do the right thing’. And it was Potter’s ‘doing the right thing’, which went against most people’s ideals of a War quickly swept away and forgotten (‘he helped release a Deatheater early!’) and he’d done it anyway, spoke at his trial. And he was mad, really. Couldn’t possibly know Draco would leave and try and do - be - better. He couldn’t.“The ridiculous thing is,” Draco explained, “I didn’t owe you anything before or after that trial and I was relieved. I thought I was just going to go home and everything would return to normal. And it didn’t.” He tried not to sound bitter or at all not endeared to the idea. But he failed because if he had been able to move on like everyone else then, who knows where he’d have ended up?“Whenever I heard my father say mudblood or blood-traitor I’d cringe because I thought if you somehow overheard it you’d regret the decision to defend me.” Draco scoffed. “If anything, I’ve been too conscious of what your opinion was, one way or the other a—”Draco wasn’t allowed to finish his sentence. He would have teased Harry if he could, called him greedy or spoiled but it wouldn’t be fair. Not when he could feel Harry shudder, not when he kissed him with such intensity that Draco struggled to keep up; to even breathe. Draco could only follow Harry’s lead and it was a relief to stop thinking. Pushing and pulling, Harry and Draco’s backs met with multiple walls of the house, pausing only to indulge and undress further. If Harry ever mentioned Draco yelped at the sudden teeth and tongue at his throat, he’d deny it ever happened. To know how Harry’s hands felt on his skin, to remember how great it was to have this – a long time spent alone and ignored – and Harry licked into his mouth and Draco groaned. It was an impossible ask not to compare the only woman he’d ever been with what Harry did now. For one – he wasn’t gentle – it threw him a little – to have him scratch at his back when his late wife’s nails were much longer and never scraped his skin once. He’d tried his best to treasure her.“Slow down,” he hissed against Harry’s skin, an unsettling anxiety starting to make him second guess. Harry relented, if only enough to catch his breath and Draco considered it enough. This was enough, he was fine. Everything was fine.When Harry finally seemed settled on opening a door, Draco’s gut fell then upon spying the bed. He wasn’t sure if-- He wasn’t sure what to think about the way Harry’s weight was so much more than what he was familiar, not when it was pushing him down on the bed and Harry started tugging at his trousers and-- a vicious bolt of panic stole his breath and he froze. “Stop- stop. Wait.” Draco just held Harry’s hands in place, not wanting him to move any closer. He couldn’t stop the uneven breathing, couldn’t stop the awful truth. (What was he doing?) Harry kept saying his name and Draco couldn’t bluff his way out of this any more. Trying to settle him, Harry tried to pull away but Draco didn’t want that either. “I’ve stopped.” Harry said, worried broken up with his uneven gulps of air. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”He wanted desperately to have someone else to appreciate and have as his, as an equal and on his side without having to second guess all the time. He wanted to wake up without an empty bed. But was this – did this count, could it?“What did my marriage mean? If I sleep with--” With another man, and Draco couldn’t even say it, “--with you.” Harry flinched, Draco felt the hurt and he couldn’t take it back because it was true. He just kept Harry as close as he could manage, gripping so tight he was sure his nails were digging into Harry’s arm and wrist. Siobhan had once said Draco Malfoy was lonely and would eventually succumb to someone’s advances. “What if she was right?” He hissed, unable to look higher than the battered edges of the carpet, “What if I’m just lapping up any attention given to me? What if this is just-- What if I’m just--” Was Wilks closer to a done deal than either had realised? He wanted to be sick. He wasn’t this pathetic. He wasn’t desperate. “I’m not like that. I’m not.” Flinching away he tried to calm down but it didn’t do anything but make him realise the heat from earlier was gone. “Draco, do you hate this?” Harry’s kiss was chaste and nothing like the previous. Shaking his head was nearly too much – it sounded like admitting defeat – and Harry seemed to understand what he meant. He kept going, pausing and asking as he held his hand, repeated it over and over and Draco found it more calming. He could answer a yes or no question. That was easy. Watching, feeling Harry splay his hands over his chest and he moved down and Draco was awaiting the same horrid anxiety to take over. “No.” Draco looked away, couldn’t speak while having Harry look over him worried and anxious too. “I don’t know.” He grabbed at Harry’s wrists again, stopping them at his hips. “Then, do you hate doing this with me?”Draco laughed, self-deprecating and short. He pulled into himself, hiding behind his knees and wanting to disappear. “No.”It was embarrassing. But neither of them said anything more. Harry was, by far, keen to test and check on him every few seconds. As if somehow Draco would phase him out and decide this was all his fault. But the accusation never came and Draco was well aware his hang-ups were his own. In an effort to say he was fine – but not say it because Draco was not fine – he entwined their fingers and held onto Harry’s hand as if he required it. Not quite sure how to move passed this they both sat in the dark and waited for the other to try and find where they should start. Pinching the bedsheets with his other hand, Harry didn’t look at him either as he spoke, “Being with me doesn’t diminish the love you had - have - for Astoria. Some people might see it that way. I don’t, and anyone who ever knew you and Astoria wouldn’t.”To hear it was nice, but it didn’t mean much because it wasn’t just how everyone else would react. It was just too easy, people liked to dismiss other people’s emotions when they didn’t like the person in question. “I don’t care what those idiots who read the Prophet think,” he snapped, unfairly but it took too much out of him to talk about this. Really, when High Society heard of two men or women going off and sleeping together it was a novelty, something to entertain after – and only always, after – the children were grown and away. It was a joke, like buying a new pedigree peacock to show off and once its fashion was over, never speak of it again. It was a half-hearted joke at best. The Twenty-Eight was all about family, children and what a horrendous idea adoption was.The very reason Nott's rendezvous hadn't made it into such a scandal as Pansy and Blaise's was simply because it was more than likely he was shagging another man. And who would dare talk about that in mixed company? Harry didn't say the name and Draco was grateful. If he'd heard even half of what Draco had at his age, he'd suspect Scorpius was feeling the pressure on having children and being married too. Even if Draco didn't care if the Malfoy name died with him but the Twenty-Eight weren't just a bunch of families who greeted each other at parties. All intertwined and having favours upon favours from generations ago to still pay off made them more assets to be used for each other than anything else. “I can’t have him hate me. Not even for you.” Harry stroked his thumb over the back of Draco’s hand. It calmed the muddling thoughts as Draco watched the movement, focussed on it and tried to anchor himself to it. At least Harry wasn’t horrified, disgusted. He was taking this phenomenally well, much better than Draco could say he was managing this. (He was supposed to be the cool one, the logical one).“Nobody knows I have this place. And even if someone did find it, we could just--”“Your suggestion is to hide away from the world? Until someone finds us?” A naive idea. But a nice one to imagine, to be hidden away from everyone and everything, from his past and all it brought to him. Even back when he and Astoria left the limelight, there were still people snooping. And if Harry was just going to disappear, Hermione and Ron would eventually ask and then pry if those answers weren’t enough. Someone would notice. No one could leave Potter be for long. “Why not, I have an Invisibility Cloak.”Maybe it was the FireWhiskey, maybe it was the disappointment and the trepidation mixed up with the adrenaline, maybe it was how ridiculous such a response was but Draco laughed till his face and stomach cramped.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
He should have left, fled in embarrassment and taken this all as some cosmic sign him and Potter weren’t supposed to bother. He should have left and pretended nothing happened from that day forth. Instead he stayed, the silence verging on awkward but never quite stopping Harry from asking a question or Draco from answering. What he couldn’t quite stop thinking about was how Harry was too accommodating. A little too well-equipped in what questions to ask or how to answer.“How do you know?” Draco didn’t have the courage to look at Harry this time, he wasn’t sure why. Had Harry had similar reservations before? When? With him or just with whoever had been with Harry before? In response Harry hummed, “What’d you say?”Did it matter? Draco couldn’t say. But the entire night had gone from good to great to disaster, less to do with FireWhiskey and more to do with Draco’s insecurities. He’d always thought he’d die only having been with Astoria, only having loved and been with Astoria. Where did Harry Potter, another man ever enter the picture? “I’m going to sleep before I make more stupid decisions,” Draco huffed as he bounced back on the bed as he threw himself down. One day he’d like everything to go to plan. “Would it be okay if I head back to the Manor and grab--”Right, Potter wasn’t the type to sleep without assistance. Having Potter go back to the Manor on his own wasn’t ideal, what if Moran was lying in wait? Would he be dumb enough to try and attack Harry Potter? Maybe, he’d waltzed into a shop with him inside it after all. Covering his face with the crook of his elbow, Draco sighed. “--do what you want. Just be careful.”“Just remember you said that.”He heard Harry apparate, he’d regret what was said and done tomorrow. He didn’t wait to hear Harry’s return, he immediately wrapped the majority of the covers around him and tried his best to have no more thoughts. He’d like to sleep and taking a deep breath, he wondered if it was ever going to be possible to give Harry what he wanted.Really, it would be nice, to have someone… someone else to share the time left now Scorpius was out of sight. Draco Malfoy had a lot of time and potions weren’t engaging conversationalists. He sighed. No more thinking, damn it. This Once Was A Safe house didn’t buzz or badger him and he was lulled into a peaceful sleep. One where he dreamed of flying across the sky and harassing those who walked outside in the dark only to be scolded by Harry, he avoided him but wherever he flew, Potter was there telling him off. Draco awoke not long after, confused at first on where he was, why he’d even roused when the room was still dark. Movement was heard as someone bumbling around the room. No one else should know where he was, right? This wasn't anyone else. But he was still hesitant to speak, just in case. Where was his wand again? “...Harry?” “Sorry.” Draco sighed, search for the wand forgotten “What're you doing?”If Harry paused to think of a lie, it was a convincing one. “The potions aren't really working as fast any more.” Anyone who has so much as an Average on their Potions N.E.W.T.s would know such a fast resistance meant Potter's magic was returning, hindering the potion obsolete. A boon in terms of him healing from the leech but it didn't help the issue of the insomnia. “I'll fix it.” Of course Harry stumbling into the room in the dark said it wasn't just a potion not doing its job. “Are you okay?” Draco sat up, trying to see if Harry swayed. “Feel a little out of it.” If Harry was buzzed earlier, he sounded dazed now. Draco couldn't argue if Harry had went off and continued drinking, since he seemed accustomed doing that on his own. Right, it was possible he'd had one FireWhiskey too many during the time Draco slept.It wasn't really difficult to fall into the routine of caretaker – Draco would've howled at that back when he was a child – but he did so easily as he checked Harry's temperature with his hand. “You are a little warm.” Concerned, Draco was tempted to whisk him away to the hospital and have someone with medical training look over him. Knowledge on what could happen if and when certain potions and vials were taken was one thing, how to counteract those, Draco wasn't certain he could do anything.“Your hands are cold.”Dismissing the mumble, Draco set on keeping the peace for now. Whisking Harry away after being seen out in public with him – only for Harry to fall ill? And no doubt people would wonder where he was before. Best keep this Home Away From Home secret and Harry away from any snooping journalists. “Just get in the bed, Potter. If you start seeing pixies let me know.”Harry was slow to move, and while Draco was cautious over the new health issues he wasn't too worried. No, this was quite normal – these flushes and flares of heat and magic, his potion hadn't just become obsolete, Potter's body was practically considering it poison. Why did nothing ever go to plan? The night continued and somewhere in it, Draco dozed off again a vague acceptance that Harry had taken to stealing some of the covers leaving his back cold. It was the light of morning that stirred him awake, not the person tugging him out of his cocoon of blankets. A lethargic, lazy stretch like that of a cat and Draco murmured not even sure if he had the energy to talk for long. “Potter, are you awake?”“No.” How long had it been? He really should go back to sleep and leave the talking for later. So he waited, keen to lay with the comfort of another person. He did miss this, as Harry nuzzled and hugged into his space. While Harry was content to return to sleep, Draco stayed up. Mind whirling. This was fine, nice even. So, why was he panicking earlier? “Harry,” he whispered, half wanting him to pretend he was asleep again. “Leading you on wasn’t my intention.” Bracing himself for some cutting remark and waiting to hear the longest sigh to go along with it Draco waited. The sigh came first. “You over think something awful.”What? Draco wasn’t sure he was following. “...You’re not upset? Not even a little that I refused you?”“You’re talking to someone who's still married and is in this bed. I’ve done the whole self-doubt thing.”“Oh.”And Harry just seemed quite happy to leave it at that. At least he hadn't ruined anything last night. Not like letting Siobhan leave without a word. It bugged him though, how fast Siobhan saw danger and how quickly it came and killed her. Just one question then, to sate this paranoia. “When you and Ginny... and Siobhan were out, did you meet anyone?”“Didn’t really notice.” Harry shifted and Draco was glad to have blood supplied to his hand again. “She wasn’t nervous or scared or anything. Impatient with people, that’s about it.” Draco hummed an affirmation. Harry tended to speak to more people in passing than most, add in Ginny, anyone a fan of the Harpies, and they’d have had a hard time being left alone. Harry hadn’t helped shed any light on who or when Siobhan had been threatened. At the party was looking mighty probable.“Not freaking out?” As Harry said it, a little too carefully, Draco regarded Harry’s hand which ran over his ribs a test. To see if he was going to flinch away and lie. The callouses on Harry’s fingertips left a tickle in their wake, which if Draco was being honest were far too distracting and pleasant for him to carry a conversation.For now, he stayed still trying not to overthink. Letting Harry touch his skin in short, repetitive strokes. Maybe he was worried over how easy this was. The light from the not-so-covered windows blinded him and Draco twisted to hide his face amongst the pillows.“Not freaking out.” “We could try again. To make sure you’re sure.”Draco snorted, he could barely hear the proposition over how witty Potter thought his words. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He stretched again, arching away from that ghastly morning light, only noticing the red mess across his skin. Well, he wasn’t going to any French beaches any time soon. “I woke you up.” Draco didn’t deny it. Only because Harry hadn’t finished yet. “I’ve used all those potions.”Really, Draco needed a larger cauldron, the largest made twelve at most and Draco couldn’t tell how fast Harry was taking them right now. How long would it take to make a stronger dose? The somewhat guilty expression wasn’t what Draco was expecting. Potter really didn’t like asking for anything it seemed. “I’m going to start charging you.” If Draco knew how giddy Harry was after a kiss, he’d do it more often. “And maybe another batch just in case.” Draco rolled his eyes, let Harry have another kiss before he asked another question."So, what did you do in my house?”As if Harry had been waiting on the question he squirmed, not out of discomfort but settling himself into a snug position to speak. “Just a few traps to catch anyone who thinks themselves smart. It’s well, been bugging me. How Moran just charged into the shop to kill you. Why not wait till later? Out of all the days to attack, he picks the exact timing two Aurors are inside?”“There’s a lot that doesn’t make sense. His father has no political allies, not any more at least. And yet he was one of several people in my house. It’s not so difficult to hire a few from Knockturn Alley, but he’s not the type to have money. He spends it on potions, his father on himself.” “What about Zabini?”“I don’t think he faired well after the war, financially. He’s not what you’d call poor but he lost a fair amount of business on his return. Socially he's nearly untouchable, I imagine it's because he's the only one out of the twenty-eight that actually has any publication saying how he didn't side with Deatheaters.” Wait. “Why are you talking about Blaise?” Draco pulled away, looked at Harry awkwardly with a strain in his neck. “No. He’s had ample opportunity to kill me, Harry – many times and quite a few that’d leave Moran as the prime suspect. He’s not trying to kill me, okay? He’s my friend.”“He doesn’t like me.”“He doesn’t like not knowing what’s going on and I doubt he’d ever figure this out.” Harry laughed and it did strange fleeting things to Draco that he tried to ignore.Oh, right."Neville and Luna--" A jarring and sickening spike ran through his stomach and the mental image shoved its way through his head. Scorpius was hurt. He moved out of bed, trying as he might not to panic. He’d told him to stay away from the Manor. He told him! What if this was Moran, what if Scorpius had the ring forced on his hand? “What?” Harry grumbled into the pillows, he reminded Draco of an animal waking from hibernation, passive and not recognising danger. He’d accio’d over his shoes, trying desperately not to panic. He wouldn’t panic, it wouldn’t help. “Scorpius is hurt.” Finally, Harry pushed himself up from the bed and started doing the same. “I’ll come with you.”“Hurry up,” Draco snapped, too concerned to wait. “I’m sure he’ll be okay,” Harry said offhandedly and sounded less than convincing. They apparated never bothering to pull on their cloaks or outer-robes. The Malfoy Manor was quiet upon entry. Both Harry and Draco glanced at each other because they could hear the silence die at the yelling. And they both knew those voices. Draco marched to the foyer, panicked and furious at seeing his son losing and wounded. “Scorpius!” Draco saw Scorpius on the floor, flailing and fighting like a Muggle. The same mess of hair eased the panic into confused annoyance. “Separate, the two of you.” Albus and Scorpius were flung away to the opposite sides of the room. A dull thunk as they both were dropped back onto the floor.Draco took a breath to calm down. Scorpius wasn’t dead, he wasn’t targeted by Moran. This boy would be the death of him. “What’s wrong with you two?” Harry started to wander over to Albus no longer too fussed or alarmed at the sight. Scorpius’ lip and knuckles were bleeding, and Albus had the beginnings of a nosebleed. Before Draco could agree with Harry and ask what was going on, Scorpius yelled, bitter and more upset than Draco had seen him in years. “I hate you!” Scorpius spat, not bothering to pick himself up. Albus had stumbled to his feet, seemingly not even noticing Draco or his own father in the room. Not even as Harry grabbed onto him to try and steady him. Scorpius’ rage didn’t dwindle. “Malfoy Manor,” he called out and Draco frowned at the order. “Albus Severus Potter is no longer under your protection.” Albus must have been aware of what was coming. And why. Draco didn’t try to override that command. Whatever reason Albus had to cause such fury in Scorpius was enough for Draco to agree with his decision. His son lauded Albus as a brother, for this to happen? What had they been up to? “Wait--” Finally Albus looked to his father, then at Draco as if to plead for them to stop it. Draco made sure not to allow an ounce of sympathy to leak through. His son came first, not Potters. “Get out, and don’t come back.” It was the glare, the Malfoy Glare, not the sneer or the overconfident banter, Draco saw the contempt and for Scorpius to show it to Albus? Well, he wasn’t sure what was going on but Scorpius, as the Manor still told him, was hurt and Draco was still keyed in to halt that.The Manor did whatever its wards wished and the doors opened and closed, synchronised as Albus was cast out of the house. Harry might have given him a look, one to ask why he didn’t stop Albus from being flung away like rubbish.“Go see to your son and I’ll see to mine.” Draco was cold, he knew he was, as he turned his back on Harry and squatted down to see his son. His hands were swatted away as Scorpius’ rage wasn’t sated just yet.Scorpius didn’t speak until Harry had left. “I hate him. I never want to see Albus bloody Potter again.” He rubbed at his mouth. “You’ve made that quite clear.” It wasn’t as if Draco was going to appeal to have Albus return. History said how Harry would most certainly not do the same either. Maybe Harry would be happy at this?“I mean it. I hate him. I--” Angry tears might have fallen but Scorpius rubbed at his face, his sore mouth and picked himself up from the floor. “Come on, let’s get Lotty to make you something.” Perhaps a hex or two had been thrown before their appearance in the Manor, as Scorpius' jaw had started to swell. “Something cold, I suspect would be best.” He called upon Lotty, who upon seeing Master Scorpius cried herself hoarse but being asked to make ice-cream to calm him down also calmed her. She once again, made too much for any sensible person to eat and Draco ended up with a bowl too.Scorpius ate his slow, the rising red on his jaw and in his eyes told Draco enough. Anger was always secondary, not many seemed to realise it. Anger was a response towards a threat or harm potential or already done. Albus had fucked up, to put it lightly. Draco remembered how utterly (and mildly disturbing at the time) he talked about being brothers with one Albus Potter. The boy was his only friend for years, isolated and ever grateful for the chance to show he wasn’t like all the papers said. Albus hadn’t just hurt Scorpius, he’d betrayed him. Somehow. Draco wondered what Albus would say to Harry, what kind of advice he was expecting back. Harry would probably want them to patch things up, ignore whatever made Scorpius cry. That wasn’t something Draco could do, ever. “Aren’t you going to ask why?” Scorpius mashed his ice-cream into a slop. Lotty was happy enough to refill the topping and chopped chocolate additions as Scorpius poured more and more in.“Who started it?” Draco wasn’t sure Scorpius and Albus had ever escalated fights to this point. They weren’t under his supervision all the time but leaving the two alone even as children garnered no arguments, petty or otherwise. They were delightful to look after since neither were the type to dare the other to jump out a window and spell themselves to safety (something Goyle and Crabbe did frequently at Draco's behest). “James.” The spoon made a deafening noise at he dropped it into the pool of was-ice-cream. “It’s always bloody James.” The contempt was back. “Ever since--” But he held back and Draco could only think of a few reasons as to why. Pushing Scorpius when he didn’t want to talk was a sure-fire way of never knowing.It took another few mouthfuls of freshly made dessert for him to reconsider. “Ever since they’ve shared that flat, Albus hasn’t been Albus. He’s like some hybrid James-Albus who--” Scorpius cast his glare down as if he was embarrassed. “Who calls you a Deatheater and thinks you should have went to Azkaban.”Even if Albus was another person’s kid, he was still one of the very few people Draco was more than cordial with - the boy had ended up in his house for entire summers, chatted at length over a topic no one else seemed interested in. And even to Albus he still didn’t deserve a second chance.“Albus said that?” It wasn’t fair to say Albus betrayed him - he held no loyalty - but it hurt, leaving Draco cold and hollow.“James kept saying it and then, instead of doing what friends do and tell him to shut up - Albus started agreeing with him. Every time he’d say sorry, that he was just letting James say whatever because it was easier that way.” Scorpius’ anger was back, full blown and hand clenched around the spoon it might as well have cut him. “I told him, then if he was so disgusted with Malfoys I’d make it easy for him. James laughed, said ‘good about time’ and you know what Albus did?” Whatever it was, was too unbelievable for Scorpius to say immediately after he played with his food, biting his lip and looking miserable, he continued, “Said, ‘ok’, like everything, everything we’ve had to deal with in Hogwarts meant nothing.”Scorpius and Draco were like most Malfoys, an only child with no reason to believe brothers or sisters were necessary. Now, Scorpius was no doubt realising what the phrase family first meant: blood only. “I never understood why you didn’t just go find a place with him yourself.”“Because then you’d be here alone.”“Scorpius,” Draco sighed, pushed away his own untouched bowl. He never wanted to be the obstacle in whatever his son wished to do. “Dad,” the fury was gone and it had left a small, scared child in its wake. Draco had never once heard Scorpius so worried. “Did you ever hate me -- because I killed mum--” He didn’t need to finish that sentence for Draco to rage in his stead. “If James or Albus put that thought into your head I’ll hex it out of theirs myself. You did nothing of the sort.” How dare they say a cruel senseless thing. James was the first-born of Harry Potter and in turn, Draco could take a guess at how he assumed he could say whatever he pleased. Not this, not to Scorpius. Draco stewed in his own righteous fatherly anger for too long and Scorpius ate his food in bursts. Harry Potter returned and Scorpius flinched in his seat. Right, he probably hadn’t noticed him on the wards beforehand being too distracted. Scorpius needed somewhere to lick his wounds, without a Potter appearing to rip them open again. “Come on, we should go rest at the Château. Grab a case, I’ll see to Potter.” Scorpius for once didn’t have anything to say and slinked away, Lotty following after.“Can I bring in Albus to talk?” Harry asked, seemed to scan around for Scorpius only to stare at a wall for a moment. He must realise how Scorpius was moving away. Draco wanted to laugh at the suggestion. “No, but you can bring James here so I can hex a few things into his thick skull.”It wasn’t a smart move to threatened Harry’s other child but Draco wasn’t thinking smart right now. “This has nothing to do with James. What did Scorpius tell you?”Draco scoffed, folded his arms and said, “What Albus apparently didn’t tell you.” “Albus just wants to talk to Scorpius. Let’s not make this bigger than what it is.”Bigger than what it was? Bigger than telling Scorpius his parents hated him? Hated him because he’d killed his mother? Bigger than that? No. Draco was in no mood to take Harry’s advice when his children were the ones in the wrong. “You want Scorpius to speak with Albus again, you bring James to speak with both of us.”“He’s got nothing to do with this.” Harry settled a little, forcing himself calm but he added, “Scorpius threw the first punch.” And Draco laughed, cold and sneering because of course his kids told them Scorpius hit first. Not they’d tormented him with the most distressing thought to ever give a child.“I would have hexed him if I was in the room and heard him say what he said, what he implied.” Harry’s confusion didn’t help matters, didn’t calm the rage it only stoked it more. “Take your potions, Potter. Scorpius and I will be out for a few days and we certainly don’t need to see any more of your family for the time being.” Maybe he’d realised then he didn't have all the facts. How he’d been tricked and manipulated by his own children to argue their innocence. “Wait--” “Take your things before I throw them at you.” Draco snapped, shrugged away from Harry trying to grab at him again. “And tell James, if he dares, once more to try and undermine me or tell Scorpius I would ever hate him or he - even imply he killed Astoria - I will duel him. And he will lose.” Harry hadn’t been told a thing, confusion evident on his face and Draco left him in the foyer. Figures James was as spoiled as Draco was - if not more - he’d probably been left off with every little issue because of his father. Figures Albus wouldn’t say anything to implicate his big brother. Merlin knows what kind of treatment James and Albus received were night and day from Scorpius. They’d talk again, once Harry did have all the facts from his own kid’s mouths. Knowing Scorpius, he had left a few details out, a few Albus would eventually fill in. Even if Albus did reveal the more bitter truth, Draco wanted nothing more than to hunt down James and implant every memory of the war just so James would understand it wasn’t as if Draco could waltz over to the ‘Right’ side and be trusted. He was going to die, him and his parents if he didn’t take the mark and do what he needed.Draco paced by the Floo. Lotty returned humming her tune and Scorpius twisted and pulled at the ends of his sleeves following her and a levitated case. “Dad. Can we talk? About the rings.”“Don’t worry, I already know.” He could do without the threat of Moran for more than a few days and he doubted the idiot would be able to find him in France. “Okay.” Scorpius was too miserable, stewing in his own head. So, as Draco and Scorpius stood in the fireplace, Draco asked a question hoping to pull him out of whatever repeating memory he was stuck in.“Who did you come in the Floo with? Before.”“Blaise.”“Is that so.” Did it make sense for Blaise to return to the Manor after he’d left with Scorpius? Unless he did see someone and ushered an oblivious Scorpius away before returning, forcing himself into the Manor in search of what he’d seen. His mother was surprised even though her face didn’t so much as twitch. “Draco! Scorpius! We didn’t get your owl. Your father’s in the garden.” They all knew there was no owl, no reason to announce themselves beforehand. It must have told her everything, that Draco needed to leave at a moments notice and for that to involve Scorpius? Well, Draco wasn’t sure he could ever hide much from her.She beamed at Scorpius cooed over how big he’d gotten and awkwardly Scorpius pulled away, checked in with Draco.“I’m going to say hi to mum,” he said before leaving.“Be with you in a bit,” Draco called back turned to see the smile was faded now and she was watching him like she was about to read his mind, “Mother.”“What’s scared both my darling son and grandson back here?” She smoothed down his hair, no doubt a mess after such a long Floo journey.“The Potters.”She scowled. “I don’t know if we’ve been blessed or cursed with that family.” “I’d like to spend sometime with Scorpius without interference.” Draco curled his fingers away, desperate she wouldn’t say anything about the missing ring. Whether she saw it but decided not to comment, Draco couldn’t be sure.“No foot or scrawl of theirs will you see here. I’ll make sure of it. And consider your father too busy.” He sighed in relief, not so sure he should say why exactly they were here. He didn’t really want any of them dead - as much as James needed many, many things said to him - unleashing his mother on them seemed too much. “Thank you.” She was still staring and Draco excused himself without looking at her in the eye. “Scorpius and I will be in the inner sanctum, I have to try and undo some of the damage James may have done.”The Château used to be Draco’s until his mother and father decided Britain was not as kind as the French and they’d moved and Draco had been somewhat forced to trade. His son was there, why would he stay in a different country? Astoria was still here. A grand display in the garden which surrounded and made a spectacle of Astoria, not the other way around. Several hedges helped protect the stone from the weather and archways and flowerbeds surrounded them. “Hello, again.” He spoke to the grave, adorned and decorated with several smiling and laughing pictures of Astoria, her favourite flower in purple sat fresh against the stone too. Draco was happy to see the Château still looked after the grave even after all the years of his parents being here, not caring for it. (‘Malfoys belong in the Mausoleum, not out back,’; ‘She was hardly a Malfoy’). It was her favourite place in the world and Draco had buried her there and couldn’t care less about his parents complaints to it. Scorpius was sitting on the bench, now moved over to chat with the stone. Scorpius and Draco had spent many, many hours here. Most of the time, not together. “I promised you I’d answer any question you had. So, I’ll answer the one you gave.”He made a makeshift pensive out of the birdbath and Scorpius watched, eager but too upset to speak. Then came the memories, popping and pulling them out of his head and letting them swim like tadpoles. Instead of speed, Draco tried to focus on each memory, make it brighter, make it less of a blurring mess. The first was when Scorpius was born, Astoria and her son exhausted and Draco’s worry had dwindled at seeing the two well. He’d sat next to her on their bed, a newborn in a bundle of the finest linen while Astoria was under the covers.“He’s so small.” Draco’s pinky was stolen away by Scorpius’ whole hand and he held on as tight as a newborn could.“He’s perfect.” Astoria stroked the newborn's nose and he grumbled in her arms. She was tired, he could hear it in her voice and feel how lethargic she moved. “Obviously; he’s ours.” As if anything put perfection was possible there. “Are you okay?” He watched as she grimaced, trying to shift her weight. “Just tired. Hold him for me for a bit.” She smiled, though didn’t seem too keen on the idea of handing him over so soon. So, Draco held his son for the first time, couldn’t really understand how someone could be so small and tiny - and he then also didn’t understand how his own Father could sell his own son a false dream and shove him under the ire of Voldemort.Draco was not a brave man. But he’d fight anyone who thought to hurt this little bundle. Astoria curled up and rested on his legs, and he kept Scorpius within her sight as she seemed content just to watch him try and move his arms. “I’m so relieved he has your hair,” she said, smiled and Draco nodded knowing the rumours hadn’t been so kind to either of them. It should put a stop to them.The next memory wasn’t one Draco wanted to share but he was certain Astoria would have, so he did. This memory was a frightful insight into how unprepared Draco was for the trials of parenthood. “I’m the worst father in the world!” Draco wasn’t sure if the noise he made was worse or if it was the distressed crying of his son, who lay in his crib and seemed to want the very walls to come down. His face a tear-stained red and his scream made Draco want to curl into himself and proclaim he hadn’t a clue what he was doing - he shouldn’t be allowed to be near Scorpius after this. “Shh, he’s fine.” Astoria was holding him in place, not with any reasonable force, Draco was just too guilt-ridden to do much else but cry and complain. “He’s screaming the house down! I should just put myself into Azkaban. Throw away the keystone!” His dramatics this time didn’t make Astoria giggle but she sighed took his face in her hands and said, “Draco, you aren’t the first parent to nip a child when trying to cut their nails. Okay? Please calm down. He’s not even bleeding.” “Are you sure? Did you check? What if he is bleeding?” Astoria sighing ended the memory as Draco went over to double check his son’s tiny fingers. The next memory morphed into Draco lying down on the sitting room couch.Scorpius was a toddler, sleeping on Draco in the dead weight only children seemed capable. He glared, annoyed at the clanks of high heels his wife always seemed to wear. “Don’t wake him up, I don’t want to read ‘Where Is the Changeling Hiding?’ one more time, I’ll go mad.” Scorpius’ obsession was this one book, he’d have it read to him every second of the day if he could.“You said that yesterday.” Astoria smiled, kissed Draco’s forehead and went to stroke Scorpius’ hair. He grumbled in his sleep but didn’t wake. “He can have whatever he wants; I don’t want to hear ‘boo-hoo where’s the seafoam?’ one more time.” Astoria tried her best not to laugh and Draco was well aware he wasn’t the only one who wanted to launch this book out of the window and tell Scorpius it must have disappeared because a pixie took it. Neither of them did, they kept reading the adventure of Charmy, the Changeling and hated every second of it. “He’s so adorable.” She cooed over him, and stood arms out. “Come on, hand him over. I’ll take him to his bed.” Without answering, without waiting for that answer, Astoria tried to slip her hands underneath the sleeping toddler, but Draco shooed her away.“He’s fine where he is.” Draco argued, refused to move - much because he was frightened he’d wake the little guy. “I want a cuddle too you know!” She’d tutted. And the memory faded, of Astoria rolling her eyes but perching on the nearby armchair to keep an eye on Scorpius - and to pick him up if he were to wake. And as she tutted the next followed, where Draco and Astoria were chatting, the memory fuzzy on what or why. But Scorpius, not much older than the previous came running, in that waddling excited way small children do, and hugged onto his mothers dress. Draco spied the raw redness of his hands. What had he been up to? “Mum, Mum, Mum!”“Scorpius what’s got you so excited?”“I made it! I made it all by myself!” His young voice crackled and squeaked high. He let go, now he had his mother’s attention. Going by how he’d puffed up and was grinning, he was expecting a compliment or two his way once he’d revealed.“And what did you make?”“Your birthday cake!” Astoria smile dwindled, it was well known to Lotty to never let Scorpius wander into the kitchen. So what had he made? With what ingredients? Draco laughed, he had to see this. Scorpius took his mother’s hand and marched off to the garden in the inner sanctum. The mud-cake, decorated with dying leaves and small stones was presented with so much gusto and enthusiasm, Draco ended up sitting down on the bench to laugh while Astoria tried desperately to compliment it (and also give an excuse to not have a bite). “I can’t eat cake before my dinner, you know that.” She tried her best excuse and for a moment, just a moment, Scorpius nodded as if he understood the rules applied to everyone. “I won’t tell Dad,” Scorpius shouted-whispered, and turned. “Daddy! Mum’s gonna have some cake BEFORE dinner!”Draco was in tears by that admission and Astoria floundered again at what to say. The memories swam separate and Draco called Scorpius over, “You want to see what your mother and I thought of you, didn’t you? Have a look.” Scorpius was hesitating and it was at that Draco had to wonder how long the lies and how deep James’ words had really managed to dig. Had Scorpius always thought this? Had he always wondered? Or was James just very good at needling out someone’s weakness. Scorpius dunked his head into the pensive and Draco saw his grip on the rim twitch as time went on.Scorpius didn’t stay standing, he’d ended up squatting down on the ground, hands over his face, hair stuck plastered darker against his temples. He was crying or at the very least trying hard not to. “Dad,” he hiccuped. Spelling away the water was easy enough, the hug which followed felt a little awkward but necessary.“What questions do you have about your mother?”Scorpius had many questions. From how they met to hypotheticals. Some were better explained with another memory, some best shared with a careful selection of words. He didn’t kill his mother, for all they knew she’d fought to hang around longer to see him make some friends in Hogwarts. She didn’t regret a day. And the morning turned to night, the sky starless. Draco’s parents didn’t interrupt, more likely his mother had made sure his father had given them space before jumping to conclusions. It was faster than Draco thought, the first attempt by the Potters to get past Mrs. Malfoy. It happened the following morning and he did not envy them. Harry arrived with Albus, showing off by apparating to the gate. Or perhaps they’d Floo’ed closer beforehand. Either way the Château warned every Malfoy inside, someone - Potter - was here. James appeared next to them, looking furious. “I’ll see to our guests,” his mother had said, as if she were sweetly going to check on friends. Draco saw how displeased his father was but to not hear anything of it just yet. He wasn’t sure what could be going on. When Scorpius and Draco stood from their seat ready to meet the Potters again, Mother spoke without directing it towards anyone. “Sit down.” And the three Malfoy men sat and waited. “Scorpius, a minute.” Draco was going to show him the second best place in the Château. Piquing Scorpius’ curiosity was such an easy, effortless thing. “Let’s go have a listen in,” he whispered even as they left the sitting room. Up the stairs, into one of the old room never used, not for anything but storage, and at the far side, a metal pipe cut onto the floor. This room used to contain experiments, dark and disgusting. Before Draco’s time but he didn’t need to acknowledge the rust-like stains which made the pipe stink during the rainy days. Whatever thrown down this pipe would cover those at the door, and Draco couldn’t fathom such hate at unwanted guests. He’d love if Moran used the front door. “What--?” Scorpius was shushed by Draco with a look. They ended up sitting on the floor either side of the pipe, cut and mangled copper and whatever was said at the door echoed back. “Mr. Potter I do hope you aren’t here to try and complete the trifecta of insulting our family.”“Please, I just want to talk to Scorpius.” It was Albus and Scorpius tried to act like he wasn’t interested. “I didn’t throw the first punch,” said James, sounding too pompous. Good. His mother could cut a man down to side with a stare. “And yet you're here to apologise.” Silence. Draco wasn’t sure Scorpius was breathing. “You are here to apologize aren’t you?”Someone huffed. “James, I swear to god if he doesn’t speak to me--”“--Like I care about your little friend.”“James,” Harry said his name in warning. “Enough.”“Can I please talk to Albus? Please--”“Do you know why my son and my grandson return here?”Draco hadn’t expected his mother to speak of that or an answer to the question but Albus spoke up again. “Astoria’s here, isn't she?” He sounded quiet, and Draco wondered when his son had shared it.“She’s dead, you idiot.”A long drawn out sigh, Harry, Draco could tell he was disappointed. “Her grave, James.”“You idiot,” Albus bickered.“Harry. It’s nice to see you understand how messy family drama can become.”“Draco’s here isn’t he? I’d like a word with him. James is here - to say he was wrong - and I’d like to clear the air.” Scorpius glanced over at him but Draco made no show of how relieved he was to hear it. No one would have to tell him Harry’s children were no doubt more important - in the same vein Scorpius was more important to Draco, had been for such a long time, it wasn’t difficult to side with them over each other.He’d half prepared to pretend the night hadn’t happened at all. He whispered, “Scorpius, if you write a letter, I can deliver it. But be quick, I’d prefer if I didn’t have to fly back to Britain.” Scorpius nodded, started pulling out a range of used parchments from his pockets till he found a long enough piece. And before Draco could spell over any ink or quill, Scorpius clicked the top of one of those Muggle writing instruments and started writing.“James, I’d like you to repeat what you’ve told my grandson.” There was no response, no doubt Mother was setting on her scolding sneer that always made Draco freeze. “Tell me, if all you said was truth it shouldn’t be so difficult to repeat it for me.”“James,” Albus near growled the name like a curse.“He’s a Deatheater's son, that’s a fact.” The bravado was still there, just not quite so confident now. “And his dad should be in Azkaban.”Scorpius started to write faster, the parchment near scratching through with the strange Muggle contraption.“You have my condolences Mr. Potter to have such a fool as your son. Perhaps you might inform him why my son and myself aren’t in that unbearable prison?”Harry unknowingly gave Scorpius more time as he sighed and Draco could picture how his sons would stare and wait till they got their answers. “I spoke on their behalf at trial.”The sheer horror in James’ voice made it clear to Draco he hadn’t a clue. Hadn’t a clue how Malfoy’s freedom was squarely rested on his father’s ridiculous moral compass. And if he didn’t know about the trials and he didn’t think about how Scorpius was different to the rest of those who’d shared his name, and James didn’t see either Scorpius or Draco as anything but cruelty left to fester in the world then.It was quite clear James was an avid reader, of the Prophet. Regurgitating opinions instead of making his own. “What? Why would you do that? They deserve to--”“I’d be dead twice over and Voldemort wouldn’t if they hadn’t lied for me.”‘How could you not know this?’ Was an easy accusation to make. Scorpius had flipped over the parchment, began writing smaller. James and Albus, Lily and Scorpius no doubt hadn’t been told the intricacies of the War. Shielded from every awful memory (the snake eating, the torturing of an innocent) those memories were theirs to carry. Not shared, not discussed over tea. Not tell their children and scar them too. James didn’t say another word. His stubbornness was overtaken by his knowledge that he was wrong - and everyone had heard about the first son of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley to have an Outstanding in all of his N.E.W.T.s Smart but not wise. Stubborn but not foolhardy.“Perhaps it would be helpful to explain the past before you try again.” Scorpius flinched as she slammed the door shut. “You won’t look?” Scorpius twirled the letter in his hands. “Promise?” He halved it again before he handed it over.“You have my word.” He changed as quickly as he could, hopped up onto the windowsill and took the letter in his beak before Scorpius opened the window a fraction and Draco squeezed out. He flew towards the meeting of Potters in front of his holiday home. Harry and his sons were arguing, still. Making sure they saw him, he landed on the wall and waited.“I can’t believe you act so high and mighty and you didn’t even know--” Harry was about to cut off Albus before he spied him.“Fornax. Hey, you. Do you have a letter for one of us?” Making sure Harry wasn’t upset with him either, Draco perched on his arm without a pinch. Harry took the letter, handed it off to an overeager Albus who unravelled it. James scoffed, crossed his arms but said nothing. “Did you have to send her out? I’ve not been glared at like that since-- ever. Terrifying as always.” Harry offered a scratch and Draco accepted, best not to do anything that might misconstrued Draco being annoyed at Harry. He wasn’t.James however best keep his fingers away. “So? What’s it say?” James seemed like he was tempted to snatch it from Albus’ hands.Albus wasn’t distraught over whatever was contained within the letter. Whatever Scorpius wrote had put a frown in place, one not removed even as he ignited the parchment to ash.It was a seriousness that made both James and Harry wait for him to finally talk. “We’re not friends until you apologise to Mr. Malfoy.”“I’m not going near that Deatheater,” James said loudly, directing it towards the house. Now, if only he could come closer so Draco could bite that spoiled brat. Harry’s patience must have worn out too as he lowered his arm and Draco fluttered atop the wall again, hooting about how stupid Harry’s son was.“James, if you don’t make this right you’re a self-righteous bully who doesn’t think he’s wrong. You know Scorpius well enough to know what to say to hurt and you did it anyway just to try and show off.” The Parent Voice, not loud but low toned anger that made both Albus and James lower their gaze. Draco tilted his head and hooted. Fine. He would show Albus some mercy. If Scorpius wanted him to. James. James though would be a test of his patience. It was easier to consider James an idiot - even though his education said the opposite.Draco managed to return to Scorpius and tell of Albus’ reaction before the door rang again. Right, Draco intercepted his mother’s warpath and calmed her enough to not blind-side Scorpius – James was on his own – and allow the Potters inside. James and Scorpius might as well have been Harry and Draco from First Year with how they scowled at each other. Harry whispered low, while their sons bickered and glared.“Don’t hurt him, but a loss would help.”What? Was he serious? Did Harry trust him that much?“Are you sure?” If he were to guess, Albus and Scorpius were going to shut off and refuse to speak with each other. Not until this James nonsense was dealt with and so Draco agreed. He'd use no hexes or jinx, for if he could – he might cause more damage than he wanted. Draco shooed the others away, Scorpius and Albus weren’t keen on the idea to leave them both together without anyone else to mitigate. Either because Draco wasn’t one to hold back where his son’s pain was considered or Albus’ from how stubborn James could be. Harry prodded Albus and then James was standing there, on his own looking as if he was still in the right. “James, I don’t believe we’ve ever spoken a word to each other.” James started grinding his teeth and seemingly acting his wand size and not his age. “No, guess I’ve been lucky.” Oh, how it was to be young and cocky. To believe every word out of one’s mouth was somehow ingenious or overflowing with wisdom or wit. “If you dare to even imply I – or my belate wife – so much as disliked a hair on Scorpius’ head ever again, I will duel you seriously – and you will lose.”“You--” He actually went for his wand then and Draco made sure to give the boy some mercy. “Don’t tempt me.” James didn’t manage to pull away from the iron grip on his wrist. Perhaps now he’d know Draco wasn’t some old man who was surrounded by money without any way to defend himself. “I couldn’t care less of your accusations, but don’t make my son the bearer of my mistakes. Understood?”“So, you forgive me.” James nodded to himself, like this was all going according to plan. The absolute fucking idiot. “You’ve grown too accustomed to having Harry as your father, so I will duel you. There will be no need for Seconds either.”“I accept.” How naïve, they way he puffed up – as if somehow, there was a chance he'd ever, ever be able to beat him. This kid, who'd done his homework and listened well in class and hadn't ever been in anything other than duels overseen by teachers and lecturers. Not rolling his eyes at the arrogance, Draco told him to follow. They'd need more space and Draco wasn't going to have the possibility a hex might lodge its way into the house or the furniture. This was going to be delightful. And yet, Draco needed to make sure his anger wasn't overriding his sense. Harry wanted him to lose, but not be hurt. He supposed, he could use a spell to nip at him, a very mild stinging hex if any. It took time, though. To inform his parents and for them to avoid everyone else. Harry had taken to hovering about James, seemingly trying to get him to back off. But he never once mentioned to Draco that Draco should too.All Draco knew was his son was sobbing and Albus was crying too and Draco decided not to open this door and to ask what was wrong. So, he returned to James told him his brother and Scorpius seemed to be making up fine and he could leave and prepare for the duel. James scoffed, was no doubt holding back a cheeky comment but he left without voicing it. Harry sighed and went after him but still not a word to putting a stop to this. Gryffindors were a strange bunch.The Potters were a very odd family, Draco decided then. James and Albus were night and day, in attitude and intelligence. While James was more outspoken, Albus held a quiet confidence and it was strange Harry could compel and convince them both to do what he asked. Even with him being ill enough to potentially hurt them.If Lucius ever hurt Scorpius, he’d sign the death certificate as soon as the ink was ready. He gave two usual troublemakers twenty minutes before Draco decided to knock at the door. The sound of crying was no longer clear and Draco sighed in relief. Good to know neither of them were firing hexes at one another. What he did find was Scorpius and Albus doing what they normally did, Albus surrounded by books and Scorpius ever eager to show off. The books in question were ones filled with photographs and Draco’s heart tugged then upon seeing how Scorpius closed it, as if he was embarrassed.“Hey, dad.”He stayed at the door, not wanting to interrupt for long. “Friends again?”“Y-yeah. Maybe.” Albus might as well have become moss on the carpet for how he slouched so low, “I’m really sorry. I just--”“A word of advice, Albus. One given to me by Astoria no less.” It wasn’t just Albus who froze, waiting for his judgement. “When you apologise don’t try and explain your side unless asked. Otherwise it sounds like an explanation how you weren’t in the wrong.” Albus sat a little straighter, but didn’t raise to meet his eye. “Yes, Mr. Malfoy. I’m really sorry.”“Good. Scorpius, all forgiven?”Scorpius bit his lip only to wince. “Can we talk later?”“Stay here for a few days, mind. I expect your grandmother will want to dote a while.”“Yeah, sure.” “And I will be duelling James, just to let you know.” Draco left. “Dad!” The door shut with a satisfying slam. “So, much for hating him forever.” Draco shook his head and left them to patch up whatever specifics they needed to. Scorpius could always evict Albus again. Though with how things were going, James was the one which seemed to be heading towards needing a new flatmate.James was well equipped with spells, counters and the knowledge to become a fierce dueller. However, unlike his father who had to fight from his very first year of Hogwarts, James had revelled in the fame, never breaking the rules. He lacked all experience, the urgency and instinct to duel because it was life and death.Watching the duel was Harry and the two boys – a more timid Scorpius who had chosen to crouch down and watch through the spaces in the half wall meanwhile Albus stood, scowling. Since Harry was allowing this, Draco had to admit he wasn’t sure if Harry was using this as a test or not, he decided to play nice.They'd used the ballroom here as it was the only room with ample space for each of them to take twelve paces away from each other. Harry seemed fine to referee this but Draco couldn't be certain he would find it similar. The very first time Draco shot a spell at James, it hit. “One.” The second he'd apparated (an unfair advantage as James could not) and he'd hexed him in the back. “Two.” The third, James was angry – more likely from embarrassment – and he'd fired off a string of easily told spells which were all deflected. “Stop bloody counting!” James snarled, looked less like Harry and Ginny all in one ghastly expression. So, for the first and last time, Draco hexed James off his feet, his back hitting the floor with an all too solid thud. “You’ve spent your whole life having the world baby you, protect you and you dare think you can say what you want about my son? You can say whatever you want to a Muggle, a half-blood little fanatic of your dad and not raise any ill attention but if your father wasn’t Harry, I’d have sent you to St. Mungos for what you said about him. Are we clear?”The problem with the Wizarding World and one main reason why magic was kept as far away from Muggles as possible is being able to say whatever, to whoever – when a person could conjure torture with a flick of the wrist was too dangerous. Not when half of the Twenty-Eight were adamant they should be able to cut down Muggles if they cross their paths. James scrambled to his feet, veins popping in his face. Unlike what Draco expected, his rage was directed at Harry.“So, you’ll just let him duel me? You won’t do anything about it?” James refused Harry's hand to help him up. “James. Enough.” Harry sighed and Draco was all too familiar with the look of a parent struggling to understand why his son was behaving like this. “No, why is it so wrong my brother decided to side with me and not that--?” He turned to give Scorpius a foul look and moniker but only he didn't managed it.“Stupefy.”“Albus...” Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and Draco was ever grateful he only ever had one child as James lay on the floor unconscious. Scorpius sat, looking very smug, a mollified Albus beside him.Family was always so simple and complicated, his mother had said once. Draco agreed and hadn't a clue if he should revel in Albus' actions or not (he wanted to).
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“I miss you,” Draco said to the smiling pictures of Astoria. Some regarded him forlorn and others worried. Having someone dead still able to react and yet never speak, never truly comprehend the pain or comfort their presence gave was too twisted for Draco to ever find anything more than sadomasochistic. Who decided this was the official way to mourn a loved one? When was he allowed to throw these phantoms of her away? Muggles were lucky they had failing memories and wounds that couldn’t be reopened. How the very smile they fell in love with would never reappear every time they returned to mourn. And mourn all over again.He’d kept them for Scorpius, really. So he had somewhere to see her, tell her the things he was too scared or embarrassed to tell Draco himself.Wringing his hands together he rubbed at the missing ring and couldn't say if the weight upon him was guilt or not. “Sorry.” Never, not once had she ever wanted him to burden himself with the blasted thing so he shouldn't mind the mangled mess. He spent his time talking in half-sentences, curious questions he didn't quite want to speak fully. Would it be possible for him to be with anyone else? Harry's name was never said but her pictures never seemed to scowl. As much as he liked to feel he was talking to her, he knew he'd never hear her voice again unless he replayed a memory. And the worrying part was as time marched and waited for no one, Astoria's voice wasn't so clear in his head any more.He stared off into space, thinking of nothing in particular – a nice reprieve for now. Scorpius wandered in and slouched on the bench and watched him for a time. Well, he supposed he ought to test the waters and all that. See how Scorpius would handle the idea.“Scorpius, would you--” and it was a little odd to word and Draco sighed. “Would you be upset if I started to date--” He wished he still had the ring to twirl in his fingers, to have something else to grasp and distract him.On the defensive immediately, Scorpius asked, “It’s not Rose’s mum is it?”Right, okay, that wasn’t the worst reaction.“It might not be woman.”Scorpius scrunched up his nose and Draco was nearly sick, wondered if he could backtrack. “It’s not Rose’s dad is it?”Laughing at how worried Scorpius looked at that was too much. “No, Scorpius it is not Ron bloody Weasley.”“Oh, okay.” Scorpius shrugged and Draco's worry slithered away as he snorted. “I just want you to be happy.”Lost. That’s what Draco was now. He’d prepared to have Harry’s affections be cheap, Scorpius to find the idea not only disgusting but hurt at the idea he was abandoning Astoria. His son wasn’t quite so young and immature these days. Now, he didn’t really have any excuses.“You know, I’m supposed to say that to you.”“I’m mature for my age.”Making sure Scorpius wasn't trying to make a joke, Draco sat a little straighter. Really? Had he just said that to him? Without so much as a hint of sarcasm? “You just skipped the country after a tiff with your friend – one which I might add, you claimed you never wanted to see again.”He shifted, Draco noticed the pictures of Astoria all seemed to be giggling. “Nobody’s perfect. So, will the Prophet tell me who you’re going to date or will you?”“We’ll see, timing isn’t the best right now.” Before the ever smug and curious son of his could dare try and tease him over this, Draco decided to remind Scorpius not to return to the Manor. He'd said it once, he'd said it twice – but he really had to listen. Him and Albus being in France would be good. “The Healer I hired for Harry is dead. I’m guessing it’s Moran; he was always more inclined for casting certain curses. Stay away from the Manor, Scorpius.”“What about you?”“I just need you to stay away, okay? Stay here, spend some time away from James, hmm?”If Scorpius agreed, Draco didn’t hear it. What he did hear was Albus awkwardly hovering at the doorway not wishing to intrude but doing so as he shuffled his shoes in a habit that Draco found reminiscent of his father.Deciding then, Draco would return without a word to his mother or father. Neither would be happy about that considering they now had Albus and Scorpius to deal with but ultimately Scorpius was more spoiled by the two than Draco could ever claim. They’d all be fine, though Scorpius had best make sure not to share too many meals with them.He didn’t manage to escape quick enough. His mother was by the Floo.“Mother, would you keep an eye on those two?” Distracting himself with fixing his cuffs, he tried not to wilt under his mother’s stare.“I most certainly will not.”Okay. Not what he was hoping to hear.“Someone’s after the rings,” Draco whispered.She didn’t flinch but she took a breath and Draco knew he needed to stop her from alerting the rest of the family. “Then we should all--”“--I’m handling it but I need to know Scorpius will be here. Safe.”“And is it too much for me to ask that you will be too?”“I’ll be fine, Mother.” He gave her a parting kiss on her cheek, she wasn’t pleased about any of this but Draco was well aware she wouldn’t dare usher Scorpius back to the Manor with such a danger there.Draco went back to the Manor and immediately left it when he arrived. There wasn’t anything here for him and ever since taking Scorpius away, the Manor lay quiet. He was curious on one aspect of Harry’s life. Was his Home Away From Home not warded at all?His arrival wasn’t greeted with hurtling hexes or traps being set off.“Draco?”Whirling around, Draco almost laughed at Harry’s reaction. “Is my arrival so shocking? Or perhaps you don’t want me here?” Not as if Draco would be offended, his ego might hurt a tad if told to leave but he was an unannounced guest.“Yeah, no, I just--” Harry stumbled and stuttered and it was endlessly amusing.“Want to try that sentence again?”“I thought you might be Aurors...” He was sheepish and seemed uncomfortable for a second before returning into the room he’d came from. Draco followed, he hadn’t been thrown out told to stay back or wait.To say Harry's office in the Ministry was a mess did nothing to touch on this. Files were open, laid out everywhere in what Draco could only guess were categories which only made sense to Potter. Stacks upon stacks were secured onto the table, but Draco was made to take careful steps to avoid whatever this chaos might bring. Harry must have been terribly bored or motivated for this to be the result of one days work.“Moran?” Draco took a guess, the boy wasn't very smart but he was a face most knew and so it wouldn't surprise him in the slightest if he had so many people who was familiar with the potion-addicted kid who thought himself owed the world.“All of his known associates. Father's included.”“Should I be seeing this?” He most certainly shouldn't be and if any other Auror arrived – maybe not quite Weasley – but anyone else, they'd have carted Draco away. “This is more than a slap on the wrists.”“I can’t account for where your eyes are a hundred-percent of the time. So, sit down and grab one. You can help if you talk.”Draco sighed, rubbed at his forehead and decided if they were doing this he didn't need to do anything else foolish. “At least, let me make sure the Floo's closed.”Why had Harry decided to not follow the rules now? He’d refused to give him access while he was an owl. Had something changed? Or was Harry struggling on seeing connections?“So, Mr. Quartz receives some money from--” Harry went searching through his stacks of chaos, and they won. “Some ministry subsidiary, his house is old. Anyway, it’s his son that has a trail of spending whenever the money comes in. People rarely change, not unless something happens to force it and the fact Moran is suddenly making quite a lot of purchases, says something is different.”“And?”“That pays the exact amount of his father’s subsidiary?”“Having it amount to such is a little more than coincidental. He could be covering up anything or nothing. Fraud, embezzlement – none of this matters, they aren’t after my money.” Harry wasn’t so tone-deaf these days but he still didn’t recognise political power at all. Maybe being best friends with the Minister herself clouded that avenue of influence somewhat. “It’s probably the vote, paying people off that kind of thing.”And Draco was allowed to read the files, the reports only Aurors should see and he glanced over to Harry, flicking through a few at the same time. This wasn’t by the rules at all and Draco should be fuming, like how Harry hadn’t signed off those earlier documents. But it was nice, really nice. To be a part of this investigation and be in the know and – and have someone actually work just as hard to try and find the people who wanted to harm him. It made him a tad too chirpy and he’d shoved down the feeling of smiling least Harry think he’d solved anything.Draco read about people he wasn’t sure he’d never met.And people he had.Draco laughed, apparently Wilks had a file.“Really? You pulled Wilks up?”“I thought money would motivate whoever is doing this and he’s motivated by money...” Harry glanced away as if embarrassed.“He’s a social whore at best, no one to worry over.” Draco pushed the file away not wanting to spend any more time over this idiot. Still the sheer amount of ‘contacts’ the Quartz had was worrying.“What did you think was stolen last time?” Freezing, he couldn’t ask why Harry was asking, they might be connected, they might not. “You panicked over it.” Harry prodded him and he didn’t know what to do, did he keep this secret? “And you're panicking over it again.”Keeping it a secret would be safe but ultimately what if Harry could figure another piece out. No, no one could know. Draco rubbed at his neck and he wasn’t sure what he could do now. Here he’d thought Harry had forgotten all about it. “If I were to be the least dramatic I’d say it’s worth more than any Malfoy Vault Key is.” His eyebrows shot up and Draco ignored it. “I’d give them it if it meant they didn’t get their hands on...”“That’s a lot for a kid and some of his lackey friends to try and take by force.”And said brat didn’t have the lineage for complicated plans; the Quartz were low even in the terms of blood purity. Idiots. Snivelling idiots that tried every quick-rich scheme ever to be invented. Not smart, not rich with little connections and they were killing folk trying to get Draco’s vote. Well, get Draco’s will and all that entailed. Malfoy Vaults and power was no doubt tempting.They were missing a piece. “My biggest concern is simply how did they become aware of its existence. It’s not in any books and most people who knew of them are dead.”“So, tell me who knows and we can check--”“Nott most definitely and Pansy, probably, by extension.” Were their couples who didn’t share every little detail? Maybe Nott and Pansy’s more forced coupling wasn’t the best to foster trust.“Do either of them know about Fornax?”“No. Nott knows my family secrets only because of my father and he doesn’t know a thing about that.”Circe, imagine. He’d either scoff an owl was in no way shape or form good enough for the Malfoy name or he’d crow over being taught it. But there wasn’t anyone who overlapped both who knew of his animal form and the Rings of Celius. Luna knew of one but not the other, her husband did too. Even Nott and Pansy would only know of one. And so, Draco was at a loss.“You didn’t hear it from me: Aurors are hunting Moran and his father down as we speak.” Hadn’t Moran just been scolded and told to leave the Emporium alone? Had Harry really managed to connect Siobhan’s death to Moran and his father? Promising. Maybe Draco wouldn’t need to disclose anything else.“You’ve been busy.” He smiled, he was so sure Moran was going to be his and his alone to deal with regardless of the threat he posed. “I hope your history lesson with James wasn’t too painful.”“He’s a good kid, just tends to go off on tangents for a while.”Well, he couldn’t say he didn’t snort at that one. “I wonder who he gets that from?”“Is Scorpius okay?”“Hmm, better,” Draco answered as he checked through yet another file. This person wasn’t someone who could possibly know about Draco at all. They were in different circles entirely and he doubted Nott would so much as mutter a rumour to this idiot.“Let me know if you recognise any of them.”“I will.” Draco ignored the way Harry seemed pleased at that. What did he expect?If Harry had managed to connect Moran to Siobhan then he was obviously still proficient at his job – whenever he decided to focus. One clue Draco had over Harry was the memory of the note and Draco wondered if an outside perspective would highlight the lying cherub’s identity.“I received a note from Nott warning me before all of this that there was someone willing to steal from me and I should run away because I wouldn’t...” What was it again? He couldn’t fight back? Or he wasn’t strong enough to fight back?Sitting up, Harry was more than curious, eyes twinkling like it would be the answer to all his questions. “Do you still have it?”“The memory of it, yes.” If Harry wanted to know what the rings were he’d be vague or not answer entirely. Maybe they could finish this tonight? Ha, unlikely. In his age he grunted at getting back to his feet and he left his robe and apparted to the Manor.Now, where did he put that memory?He was quick to locate it but he made a decision to spell the memories of Astoria to the inner Vaults, they didn’t need to be so need to be so close to him these days. As he pocketed the vial of the memory, he wandered back to the Floo to make sure Scorpius hadn’t decided to ignore his warnings and slipped away from his grandmother.However, the Manor was cold. Much much colder than he was accustomed. A breeze chilled his nose and Draco armed himself at the idea something was open, be it window or door and someone was here.Carefully he made sure to ask the Manor to close whatever was opened.The sound of several doors closing told him it was from the ballroom.Someone was lying on the floor close to the entrance from the garden. Draco couldn't tell who it was but he stilled, a final breeze carried an overly sweet decay in the air that Draco knew.The Manor wasn’t alarmed. Not even a twinge in his head to this invader. Only two reasons why wards wouldn’t alert Draco to this. And he most certainly wasn’t on the bloody wards as an invited guest. Draco apparated back to Harry, heartbeat hammering in his ears and a rising tremor in his hands.“Someone's dead.” Draco was entirely prepared to drag Harry to his feet. Harry’s face was confusion but he didn’t wait, he just returned to the Manor, panicked at the second sight of the body still there. Not an illusion, not a cruel trick. Harry wasn’t filled with questions for once, he went over to the body immediately and Draco was entirely glad he didn’t need to ask.Staying far away, not looking in the direction of it Draco couldn’t take it. Someone was dead. Draco heard and listened to death threats a lot, heard about the horrors the other Deatheaters did too. And every time Draco thought of death he remembered he had killed someone, tortured to death by his hand and he--He coughed, desperate to ignore the bile rising. “Who is it?” For too long, long enough for Draco to want to ask again. Had Harry heard him?“It's Moran.”Glancing over, Draco could only make out Harry checking Moran’s pockets.“Are you sure? Was it the traps you put up?”Harry hummed, started to pushed the body and Draco turned back to glaring at the wall. Just breathe. What did it mean for Moran to be here, dead? Who’d killed him? When?“He didn't die here. I only worked a few paralysis traps, it might be why he was put here – it might’ve surprised whoever was trying to sneak in and plant his body.”Well, it was a relief to know he wasn’t being framed efficiently. “How can you be so sure?”“No blood on the floor. His clothes are bloody, it’s not a leap. And bodies can’t move themselves.” Harry made a noise, said something like ‘ferni’ but Draco couldn’t make it out.“What if someone just spelled the ground clean?” What if, yet again, yet another person was killed in this house? Harry seemed to think this over, no longer having an instant reply. Or maybe he was more focused on the dead body. Draco didn’t check, he stared off into space and listened carefully to what Harry was doing.“He’s been dead a while, the blood is black and congealed under his skin and I think you or Lotty would’ve noticed before.”Lotty should have noticed. Oh no. No, no, no. “Lotty!” he called, waited to hear the familiar pop of the house elf appearing. “Lotty! Come here!” She did not apparate to his call and he couldn’t hear whatever Harry was saying.“Malfoy Manor, where’s Lotty?”A rising image of dark stone and bars. He gagged, almost sick right where he stood.“Where is she?” Harry came to his side, watched him with such worry it might as well have been laughable. If his Father ever heard them worried over a house elf, he’d be so ashamed.For a second, he wasn’t sure he could even say it. “In the dungeons.” He didn’t think he wanted to know if she was-- “Can you--”“I’ll check. Come on.”Draco followed till they reached the stairs and Harry descended them alone. He couldn’t believe this. How could the Manor not alert him to harm done to Lotty? (She wasn’t in the wards). Damn it. He bit his lip, he was used to the Manor and Lotty herself warning him of issues. Having Lotty being hurt by someone who might have killed Moran was--Lotty might be dead. It kept repeating in his head. He hadn’t been in the dungeons for decades. He avoided it, he wished it boarded up and ignored. Vanishing a room wasn’t possible. And he couldn’t be sure he could handle those walls again. Waiting was the worst, he called down.“Harry, can you hear me?”Harry didn’t reply and Draco paced, he didn’t want to go down there. He didn’t, he couldn’t. But-- what was taking Harry so long? Fuck. Why wasn’t Harry out of there yet? Was Lotty there or not?“Can you see her?”It took so long for a reply and one Draco wasn’t even sure he was pleased to hear.“She’s here!” Before Draco could ask the question which haunted him Harry continued, “She’s okay!”Draco slumped forward, his hands on his thighs as he sighed in such crushing relief. Definitely, undeniably, he was going to vomit. Not seeing to Lotty or Harry, Draco went to the nearest bathroom and wasn’t sure if he felt better. The tremble in his hands or burn in his throat didn’t say he did.Damn it.He freshened up, ignored the impulse to run and see to Lotty. A steady exhale and he left to see if Lotty could tell him what had happened. Harry was carrying her and she was sobbing in that way house elves do which sounded disgusting and too loud and Draco was utterly hurt at the sound of it.“You okay?” Harry’s concern was touching but Draco was too raw and he shook his head to dismiss the question than answer it.“Lotty is sorry! Lotty made a mistake!” She sobbed, jumped from Harry’s arms to the floor to appease him. Crouching down, Draco waited till the word salad of apologises lulled and he could speak.“Are you okay?”“Lotty was taken by surprise, Lotty didn’t see who did it. Lotty is sorry.” Tugging at her ears, Draco sighed as she hadn’t answered the question.“Are you hurt?” Draco repeated.“Lotty’s head hurts,” she mumbled, not wanting to look up. “Lotty isn’t feeling good.”“Where were you when you were hurt?” Harry leaned down to ask and Lotty gave another loud snort of tears and snot.“Lotty was in the garden--” she started to bubble again and Draco decided it would be best to have Lotty double checked.“Let’s have you checked out.”“You take her to Mungo’s and I’ll deal with Moran and the Auror part.”A nauseous wave that stole the air from his lungs made Draco want to run and hide. “Oh, of course. Yes.” Trying not to think about an entire squad of people in his house, judging him again wasn’t a comfortable thought but it was better than having a corpse left here. “Will there be many Aurors here?”There was a–another corpse in the Manor, how long until the journalists swooped in?“Head of the department, remember. Don’t worry about it I’ll be quick.” Harry pushed him towards the Floo, Lotty sulking behind them both.“Come on, Lotty.” Draco wasn’t sure how he managed to pull himself back together. Maybe the Floo helped, maybe having Lotty whimpering at his side was what scolded his own panic away however briefly.He made a bit of show he was Draco Malfoy – who had an entire wing of the hospital named after his family thanks, so he needed to see a Healer fast. Most people were not pleased as he was pulled away, some yelling abuse that he ignored in favour of making sure Lotty didn’t run off to hide.The Healers were awkward in their healing, constantly double checking if Draco really did mean to bring the house elf or if there was something else. If he had a reputation of being cold or clipped in his conversational skills, then he might as well have been arctic with one word answers. He loathed to repeat himself and ended up simply scowling when he was asked, yet again, if Lotty was disciplined too harshly.Lotty didn’t let that settle though, to the point she’d started throwing anything at hand.“It was just a stupefy, she’s fine. You may have a headache for a few hours.”“That’s all?” He scowled at the blonde Healer who seemed to sink lower. “Really? Is she fine?” Using the bed’s cover as a giant tissue, Lotty sneezed and blew her nose into it the Healer didn’t seem fussed. A cleaning spell out of her mouth before Draco could tell Lotty to stop.“I’ll give you a potion Lotty, it should help. Excuse me.” The Healer fled and Draco sighed and relaxed.“Did you hear anything before?”“Lotty was investigating! Lotty heard a noise outside so Lotty was trying to find it...” She slumped, started to cry again with apologises in the air.No, he couldn’t have this happen again. Lotty needed to be alerted and vice-versa if there was a problem with someone else. Not with two murders happening so close to each other. Whoever had killed Moran had left him in Draco’s house as a message.“You need to be on the wards too.”“What? Lotty is an elf--”“Hush, come along.” Lotty made noises on the way to the Floo as she tried to formulate she wasn’t worthy. Trying to make a point to calm her, explaining it would help with work since she would know exactly which of the Malfoys were in the house.How many people would be in his house now? Rushing around and whispering how Draco must have done it. No one but Harry. Even the body was gone but the space in the ballroom forever stained. Just like the dining room, like the sitting room, the library and everywhere else. Never would this house be what it once was when he was a kid. This place had been exquisite and a point to brag over and now. Now Draco wanted to spew, again. Again this bloody house attracted death.Now, he pushed back against the wall because he wasn’t sure he could stay standing on his own. Calm down. His slow breath went quicker or deeper and Draco couldn’t tell what was wrong just he was now hyper-aware of how wrong his breathing was.“Draco?” Harry touched his arm and Draco didn’t ask what expression he wore.“Talk, about anything.”He buried himself into the ever sturdy Harry, grateful he didn’t ever falter when it came to people. Harry hugged him as tightly as he could. The words he said weren’t important. What Draco listened to was the lull in words as Harry breathed and Draco tried to slow his own down. If left on his own, Draco was sure he’d smell that decay again, the rust on iron and have no way to stop his legs from giving out. He hated this house.He settled after a few minutes, when he concentrated on Harry being there, not on himself.“And I’m pretty sure Puddlemere has the worst Keeper I’ve ever seen in the league.”“He’s truly abysmal but how dare you?” Draco scoffed, let go and continued, “have you seen the Cannons?”Harry chuckled, didn’t argue. Oh, so it was a goading statement. Well, Draco wasn’t going to say it didn’t work.“Come on, let’s go back to mine. It’ll be safer for both of you.”“Let me take a cauldron, I doubt I’ll sleep much tonight.” Rubbing at his face, Draco decided he needed to concentrate on anything else but the stench that was still stuck in his throat.Lotty was glad to have an order to follow and Draco gave her the ‘super expensive and important’ ingredients to carry to Harry’s. The cauldron was too large for her and Draco wasn’t keen to have her use magic just yet.If she was upset with Harry showing her a room – a human sized room – she didn’t show it. But if Lotty ended up curled up in the corner with a few pillows he told Harry not to scold her, she wasn’t great at taking what she needed.Both of them returned to the mess of files and Draco set himself into laying on the couch. He needed a few minutes before he started making Harry’s potions. The fireplace roared and crackled and Draco stared at it. Out of everything, he wasn’t scared too badly at fire but he supposed – he’d been saved then.“I didn’t consider she could die,” he started only to pause not sure if Harry would interrupt with platitudes. “She’s been around forever, she’s older than some of the rooms at the Manor. She was stunned, what does that mean? Who delivers a dead body and only stuns the elf that might see them?”Harry didn’t reply and Draco was relieved and anxious all over again. At least Lotty was simply stunned and nothing more. Meanwhile, Harry seemed to be writing more than he was reading. When the room grew too warm, Draco left deciding to brew some potions and Harry left him to it.Tonight, Harry should have a new batch of stronger potions. And really, it was now a waiting game to see when the next would have to be purified more until eventually it wouldn’t be possible. Well, if Harry wasn’t dealing with his insomnia by then, another Healer might just be necessary.Leaning over the makeshift worktop, Draco flinched as he was jabbed in the rib. Oh, the vial. Right.Seemed a little late, now.He sat it by the cauldron trying to convince himself he should leave his post watching over the potion to hand it off. The potion didn’t need any more ingredients added, neither did he need to stir it – not for another half hour. Really, if he was going to do this it better be now. Before Harry ended up too busy working around the fact someone died in the Manor. How much could Harry really keep secret? He’d tell Hermione at least.Returning to Harry, still sitting on the floor with a quill scratching at parchment. He must be writing up Moran’s death. Not waiting for any acknowledgement, Draco put the vial in front of Harry’s face.“No one else knows what’s in this, understand?” Handling over the little bottle was more difficult than it should be: what if he was just doing this because he was in shock. What if this was a mistake? If only Harry just snatched it out of his hand and let him be done with this.Unlike with a pensive, Harry took the worm of a memory and it slithered into his head. The issue over this way to see memories was it would degenerate and blur faster as details were lost and overlooked. Perhaps, Harry would see what Draco had missed.Harry didn’t speak for a while and Draco, not feeling too patient today could only sit on the couch – half covered in files Harry had decided were useless – and wait. He didn’t do it silently, sighing and huffing about him taking his sweet time.“So, he’s warning you about someone who might steal these rings. But why not just say a name? He seems to know exactly who it is.”“Nott likes puzzles especially those that stump others.” Oddly enough, Draco wasn’t a fan of puzzles or riddles. What interested Nott usually conjured his arrogance more than not. Merlin, he remembered taking a week on one and Nott still liked to bring it up. Give Draco a difficult potion to brew or an artefact to research than brain-teasers made up simply to sound smart.“...Even if you don’t solve it and then you don’t know who’s trying to kill you?” Harry really didn’t seem to be understanding the idea of having someone warn him for fun. Really, Nott and Draco weren’t even close enough to be friends before or during the war but they ran within the same circle. Shame that.“He’s not a friend, Harry. He probably sent it to hedge his bets.” Most likely Nott knew exactly why and what was going on. Him letting Draco know was more likely to save his own skin – to claim he did know and tried to stop the attack.And yet it didn’t ring true either. Nott was foolish on politics, social gatherings and manipulation. So, if he was aware someone was going to try and use those horrendous artefacts to do whatever they wanted with Draco as the mouth piece… Why would he goad Draco in the first place about Hermione losing her place as minister? Why not keep it all secret and reap the rewards he wanted?They had almost succeeded too. Moran could have killed him as an owl and Nott’s note would have never reached him and Scorpius would have been used in his place. And to hand it off to a shopkeeper, what was he thinking? Why not have Pansy slip him it at another dull social gathering while she and Hermione disagreed on every topic? Circe he could have owled the blasted thing.He’d yet to send any word on if Crabbe or Goyle’s family – or their supporters – had contacted him again.“Who do you think the lying cherub is?”“Blaise.”Draco scoffed, offended. “I told you, he’s my friend. Stop accusing him.”“You asked me a question,” Harry didn’t so much as look up from his files and Draco could tell the panic from either was returning.“You were right, before Blaise healed me - so he couldn’t be involved in this.”“Unless it was a plan to get you to feel safe with him.”And like a balloon filling with too much air, Draco yelled too paranoid and close to popping to even consider Harry right. “Shut up! What, I can only have friends that resent the ground I walk on? That want to see me dead? I’m not allowed friends am I? Ones that I can expect to want me to live, is that it?”Bug-eyed and apologetic, Harry tired to calm him down but it was out there now. A horrifying idea Draco was entirely alone.“Stressful? I just found a dead body in my house. Someone who tried to kill me. Am I still in danger, am I safe? Am I in even greater danger? Should I be bloody grateful? What am I supposed to do?”“Sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out.”“You’re a moron, Potter.”Dramatically, he refused to leave the room but flourished onto the couch, a quick wand movement for the files to shift. Now, he tried to rest though he made it a point to glare whenever Harry tried to speak and ended up turning his back on him. Idiot, as if Draco wasn’t paranoid enough. If Draco happened to levitate over a cushion to settle on, he did it purely to announce he was still awake and ignoring Harry not that he was planning on napping.He napped closer to an hour, awaking only to the gentle shake of Harry’s hand on his side.“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”“Worst apology I’ve ever heard.” Not even close but he wanted Potter to grovel for a bit.“Would you be more likely to accept it if I give you food?” Yes. Definitely. However, Draco didn’t let his secrets go and stayed, sulking.“Lotty cooks,” he reminded him.“You’ve never cooked?”“No. Lotty cooks.” Did he have to repeat everything?“Well, I got some fast food.”What was he saying, this was the worst apology. “The Muggle place? I‘d rather starve.”“Not quite. Pizza.”All day he’d avoided food, namely because Lotty was out of bounds to ask for anything. His plan wasn’t to starve all day today but his stomach cramped more out of worry and stress than hunger. There were two pizzas though nothing Draco could see which said either had different toppings. Just lots of melted cheese, billows of heat coming off the two of them.He sat up as Harry shoved the – another bloody box! – to him. “I suppose this is acceptable,” he mumbled, not eager to let Harry know his mouth watered at the very smell. Unlike a conversation which lingered regardless of what he was doing, Draco and Harry were quiet as they ate. Draco wasn’t sure he could go any quicker without losing some of his engraved eating habits.“I may have exaggerated my distress,” he said picking up a slice and stopping from asking for a knife and fork. Harry settled back into his makeshift seat upon the floor, file around him and FireWhiskey within reach. For once, Harry’s disagreement was more calming than anything else.“I don’t think you did, I was just thinking about stuff from the Auror perspective.” Harry shrugged a shoulder and continued, “It’s not the first time I’ve...”“You’ve what?” Checking to see if Harry’s eyes were directed at a file – maybe he’d seen a clue, worked out who or why – but he’d froze, uncomfortable and looking sick. Abruptly, he stood, wiped his hands on his trousers.“I’ll check to see if we have any FireWhiskey.”Draco tilted his head as he watched Harry flee then back to the FireWhiskey bottle on the table. Really? Had he forgotten again he could just wave his wand and forgo the hunting of whiskey?“Harry?” Draco put down his food and followed. “Did you forget you could just Accio--” He grabbed at his arm, wanting to tease him over how it was possible he forgot yet again, he was a wizard capable of magic. As soon as Draco touched his skin, he let go. Harry’s magic was wild, like it had been before Draco could feel it pulse in his bones and painful as it washed over his skin.Harry nearly cowered into his shadow.“Sorry, I’ll be back in a minute.” Draco could recognise when someone wanted to be left alone, to see the walls rise up and for them to pray no one noticed. So, Draco pretended he didn’t see what he did, feel the revolting way his magic slithered and stopped trying to keep up.“Right, well hurry up, I might finish yours too.” He returned back to sit on the couch and wonder what had caused Harry upset. For once, Draco hadn’t said anything to set him off this time. Was he thinking back to six years ago? What did he do?Eating the pizza didn’t taste so nice then and Draco stared at the FireWhiskey on the coffee-table. Right. He drank the thing empty, Harry really needed to get better at lying. How long were these potions going to last until Harry’s insomnia made him unable to control anything again? His best guess: not long now.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Harry said nothing as Draco collectively spelled over cushion after cushion, making himself as comfortable as possible in this torture device Harry liked to call a sofa. The silence would be distorted into Harry’s occasion huff at an owl or a patronus arriving with a message. All the while Draco curled up and tried not to fall asleep just yet – potions were still brewing and he didn’t trust Harry to take any form of direction when dealing with them.Almost nodding off, Draco jerked awake, “Harry?”Standing and stretching his hands over his head, Draco wasn’t sure if the most noise came from his bones creaking or his throat. “We need to wait for some reports to come back, should tell us what exactly killed Moran.”Humming back Draco wasn’t sure what he should expect. Lotty had by all accounts told him how she’d been attacked and taken back into the house to be hidden away in the dungeons. Yet the body had been left there, out in the open, easily seen.Every now and then, Draco would stare at Harry and watch him work for a little while; most of the time he was reading, only writing to reply or to note down a name. It was a thoughtless and automatic kind of stare, regardless on if Harry had been within it, Draco would have found his gaze there – comfortable and never blinking.“Are the potions still helping?” Draco couldn’t stop the pull of sleep and he lulled his head against the near prison of pillows around him.“Yeah, everything’s back to the way it was.”What a lie. What a terrible lie.“I should tell you it won’t last forever. Your resistance will get higher the more your magic returns.”“Maybe.”He sighed, shutting his eyes completely as he rested for a moment. It would just be for a moment. “No maybe about it, Potter.”“The couch isn’t comfy. I’ll stay up for the report, you take the bed.”“It’s your house.”“And you’re the guest so go. You’re falling asleep and you need it.” Instead of just using his words, Harry tugged at Draco’s clothing and Draco didn’t want to move. He was warm here, he was fine here, just listening to the scratching of quill on parchment.“Draco, come on.” Another tug, almost as if it had pulled it out of him Draco yawned, loud and eye-watering. He really couldn’t say anything to that.He detoured to the potions, debated on leaving them on a much lower heat but ended up spelling a stasis spell and leaving them.Harry didn’t join him. While being able to stretch and move wherever he wished, take all of the covers and all of the space, Draco wasn’t sure what he should make of this. Slipping into his bed seemed like something Harry would have done, if only to end up hugging into him till morning.Perhaps the silence before wasn’t as comfortable as Draco had thought.“Did they find out what killed him?” He announced himself with the question before looking down and seeing Harry using the floor as a desk and the couch as a backrest.Harry still didn’t meet his eye. “Potions apparently, here you could probably make more sense of it than I can.” Handing over the file, Draco took a quick look at the list of key ingredients left in Moran’s stomach and the report of what potion still ran through his now no longer pumping veins.The only positive it seemed was it was an overdose, one which shut down every organ so fast Moran probably hadn’t even felt himself die. A small mercy if any.“Cheap, common ingredients, anyone could brew this. Well, maybe not you.” This was probably a quickly brewed potion going by the clumps still in Moran’s stomach, so it was possible the killer didn’t even know Moran would need to die no less than two hours beforehand.Really, it wouldn’t have been difficult to entice Moran to have a taste. Really, whatever buzz he searched for at the ends of the vials was what killed him. Had he even considered how easy it was to taint a potion?“Thanks.”Harry did seem distant, distracted. Understandable considering he’d worked into the night to try and find a killer. But even now as they sat in the same room, even chatting Harry didn’t look at him, not once. Not even when Draco sat on the very couch Harry was using improperly. If Draco wanted to, he’d be able to pat him on the head.“Thank you, for yesterday.”“You looked like you were going to faint.” So laden with guilt, Draco didn’t think he was taking about the same thing at all.Draco went to ruffle Harry's hair, torment him a little over how he would never faint. Harry scrambled up, tried his best to make it look like he had purpose as he started stacking folder and parchment together.“Where are you going?” Why was he being avoided? Was this over the magic that’d spilled out of him?Crinkling the stacks Harry spelled them smaller and smaller until they dropped into a bag no longer taking up the entire floor. “Nott and then to the office to return what we don’t need.”“Don’t take too long.” Whirling round, finally Harry looked at him. “What?” Why did that garner such a strong reaction?“I thought you’d want to come with me.”“Not in the mood for just anyone at the moment, let me know how it goes.” Harry didn’t just get to ignore him all morning and snap his fingers and have Draco follow him around like a crup. No, Draco was fine here. Let whatever was going on in Harry’s head sort itself out while he was out. Maybe his mood would be better afterwards.Harry left looking like he’d been kicked and Draco hadn’t a clue what was going on.He wandered the house, though didn’t prey into too many rooms, those that seemed used or had locks he ignored. He found Lotty pacing in her assigned room and she nearly blinked out of existence when Draco entered.“I’m relieved you’re okay, Lotty.” She hid behind her ears, pulling them while making a high-pitched whine. “I don’t want you to think what you did was bad. You did what anyone would have. In fact I’m pretty sure the only reason you heard anything was so whoever did this could have access to the Manor without it alerting me. You were tricked and hurt and I don’t blame you, understand?”“Lotty understands.” Unlike her typical reaction of rejected praise and hating being the centre of attention, she didn’t argue.The company was comforting and he asked Lotty to follow him. She did huff and puff and ended up like Harry, on the floor sitting nearby when Draco scolded her when she tried to clean with magic.When Harry returned he didn’t so much as wait for Draco to acknowledge him he just started talking. “I think Nott nearly vomited when I told him Moran was found dead. Apparently he doesn’t know anything. Which is a line I think they teach every pureblood by the age of twelve.”So, now they were talking? Draco wasn’t sure what Harry was standing there waiting for – a congratulations he’d went and interrogated Nott? Another thank you? Potter was too confusing but carefully, Draco asked a question seeing if he would keep talking or if this was just Harry letting him know what was necessary.“Did he say anything else?”“He seemed… jumpy.”“Like he didn’t want to talk jumpy or fearing for his life jumpy or I’m being interrogated by Harry Potter jumpy?”“I don’t think I’m that intimidating.” Harry was a special kind of idiot. “It was weird, though. It was as if I wasn’t the biggest worry in the room. No one else was around, not even Pansy but he was paranoid.”And just like that, he stopped talking to him again and Draco wasn’t sure what he could do without making it both obvious Harry was ignoring him or that Draco was very much bothered by it.Harry did his Auror Things, disappearing back and forwards to the Ministry or answering more owls, and otter patronuses. To say it made Draco miffed beyond all comprehension wasn’t entirely wrong. But the reason Draco wanted Harry to stay put was simply because being left on his own left him to panic on his own too.He’d really thought he could contain these people who’d came to curse him. How wrong he’d been and if he was wrong then, what else could he be wrong about?The potions were done. Draco rubbing some dust from the vial as he sat them in rows.“Draco.” Turning around to see Harry might have had the greeting returned if Harry wasn’t glaring at him like he’d just robbed Gringotts. “Did you ever say to Mary I told you to interrogate her?”Oh. Well, in a manner of speaking. But as the seconds ticked on, Harry’s grimace grew. This was what he was stewing over then, this was why he’d pushed him away. For a moment, Draco considered lying but what good would that do him?“Sorry.” Harry was still looking at him as if he was shit on his shoe. “If it helps any, people hate me much more than love you. Mary and her boss weren’t convinced at all.” And Harry stomped away and Draco twiddled with his cuffs and didn’t know what to say, really. This was before – before a lot of other events even happened. So, Draco went to explain just that.“When I did it, I was panicking because I knew someone had just tried to kill me. I used your name because it had no consequences because we weren’t close. Circe, I considered saying something to you but decided you’d just try to lock me up. I was alone and I used you for whatever information I could get in that moment.”“That doesn’t help you any.”“I’m telling you everything regardless of if it helps me,” Draco explained. If Harry wasn’t going to trust his word, then where did that really leave them? Harry had to believe him for this to work.“Only because I pulled you up.” It was so defensive, so frustrated and snippy Draco wasn’t even sure he could try and reason these emotions away.“I’ve only used your name one other time and you know about that bloody woman who wasn’t going to give me a Chasing Tree seed. I don’t want to use your name.”“Are you finished?” Harry turned to leave, no less angrier than when he’d first spoke. Right. Not good.“I am sorry. It won’t happen again, I promise.” Harry stilled at that. And, really, that should have been it, finished. A boundary set so clear and a promise never to go over it and yet, Harry’s tone only grew more harsh.“How do I know you aren’t just throwing my name around? How do I even trust you after this?”Well, this was an escalation Draco hadn’t considered. His own came now after an entire day of confusion and, truthfully hurt from all the blunt and clipped replies. Why couldn’t Harry have brought this up before?“Do you really think I’d name drop you for – what? Am I someone who looks like they want to use any other name than my own? The only reason I did it was because no one ever tells me anything and I was hoping mentioning you would mean Mary would at least tell me when I was almost killed with that curse, I wasn’t missing key information to keep myself safe. Blame me all you want but you blanking me like I’ve done something absolutely evil is bullshit.”It was tense few seconds, Harry looking as if he’d start firing hexes and Draco was tempted to cut his losses right now. Leave and find somewhere else to hole up and hide.Harry’s shoulders sagged and he sighed. “I..” He clawed at his hair. “Overreacted. I thought you were doing what he did too,” he mumbled it and Draco wasn’t sure he understood so he let Harry talk more. “Luca, I was with before. I told him we had to keep it secret since I wasn’t sure and Albus was just finishing off his studies. He agreed.”“And I gather he used your name?”“Everywhere. Bloody hell, I got charged for some exotic animal I’ve never even heard of. When we were out with others he’d drop hints and it was--” Whatever memory rose to those words had Harry scowl so fierce Draco was certain he’d managed to fuck up majorly and he hadn’t even been in any form of relationship with Potter then. “I hated him doing it and every single time I told him to stop it he’d apologise and do it again. When I heard, I just thought, it’s the same thing all over again.”No one said Harry didn’t have baggage and Draco couldn’t complain much because his might as well have been a warehouse of emotional hung-ups. Really, he could understand in a sense, copying over behaviour from an old relationship to another. It wasn’t fair. Bloody hell this wasn’t fair at all. To be accused like he’d ran around dropping Potters name at every chance. He done it once before even Potter had started his flirting nonsense.Draco shook his head, explained really if he were to mention Harry anywhere he’d end up with more attention and while outside, alone and in need of only a few items it was never a good idea to gain more of it. Because Draco Malfoy wasn’t a very likeable man and many people would rather deal with him quickly for him to leave his shop than hear him complain.“Well, I’m glad to tell you your taste in men has increased exponentially and I won’t be name dropping you even if you ask me to,” Draco sniffed, a bit miffed at how this might have been what had set Harry off. Maybe he’d heard it or read it in a report? Or did he go back and double check everyone who’d ever given testimony while Draco slept?Harry’s focus was quite a remarkable and terrifying thing at times.“You don’t even know Luca.” Harry still having his arms crossed, his expression a bit too dour Draco tried to pull him out of it – away from the thoughts that had bothered him all day.“And? I’m Draco Malfoy. That says more than enough. I’m a man of my word meanwhile Luca clearly isn’t.” He was winning him back, a half-smile if anything tugging at Harry’s lips.“So if you promise something, you’ll do it? I thought you spent your time telling people whatever they wanted to hear.”“Harry, never get into politics, you’d never manage it. Promising something I know I can’t deliver is a sure way to have a vote. But only one, once.”“Is there anything else you’re annoyed at me for? I’m not shagging you quick enough--” he’d meant it as a joke but Harry was mortified.Considering dropping this conversation and leaving Harry with his apology and promise was promptly declined by Harry as he grabbed onto him, a bit panicked. “No, nothing like that.”To say the connection had never arisen before would be a lie but it was clear then, a sort of premonition of behaviour – and Draco was good at spying out people and their quirks. And he wasn’t even sure that this was him talking, the rage not obvious or petty, loud or sneering.“Did Luca pressure you?”Harry shook his head but Draco wasn’t convinced and Harry gripped tighter. “We just had different ideas what a relationship meant, on a fundamental level.”“Fancy way of saying yes.”“It’s not like that,. He just thought relationships were all about...” Harry’s poor habit of talking about feeling and affection rose in his cheeks leaving them red and splotchy as he spoke. “I was used to having someone to natter on with, be on my side no matter what and he just- well, I think he was the type that thought affection was sex and that was it.”It wasn’t difficult to say Harry would never find someone like Ginny. They’d been through a war together, had death and scars all around them. And still they’d stayed because they loved each other – like Draco did Astoria. But to assume going from such a long and closely knit relationship back to something not so serious was naive. Then again, Harry had never been a Casanova.Did he really think jumping from such a long-term relationship to a short one would mean he’d instantly found someone else he could trust wholeheartedly? That was so naive to Draco, but perhaps, the world had just been crueller when Draco came to try and move on.Feeling a tad awkward, not sure if Harry would point blank refuse, Draco edged closer and hugged him. The ridiculousness of Harry’s wild hair tickled at his face and cheek as he rested on his head.Thankfully, gratefully whatever rage or hurt Harry had felt over Draco's past actions seemed sated and he accepted, arms wrapping around him. The question came from nowhere. “Are you okay?” Draco giggled into Harry’s embrace. “That was a dumb question, wasn’t it?”“Just a bit.” Harry relaxed more and slowly his hands lowered. “Just a little longer,” Draco mumbled. He wouldn’t admit it but Scorpius probably remembered, but he would on off days follow his wife around and hug her intermittently. Each time he did she’d laugh and coo over him – and it was one of Draco’s favourite habits which formed between them because even Astoria did the same when she wasn’t feeling well.“Do you want to go to Muggle London for a bit?” Harry tacked on, “on a date?”“Truly, a distraction would be lovely right about now.” Stepping away, Draco saw how Harry perked up but even so. Those dark purple bags under his eyes were there again. He really hadn’t rested yet. Maybe his short temper was exasperated by his late of sleep?“But you look exhausted, go sleep for a bit. We’ll go later.” He pushed the hair out of the way, kissed his forehead, left to go fetch one of the newly made potions. He spied Harry rubbing at the same spot on his forehead, Draco feeling more secure since Harry smiled to himself.Draco didn’t need anyone to tell him he spoiled those he liked. Or would take more hassle from them when they were having tiffs. Really, to think Draco Malfoy would enjoy using any other name.After dinner, another pair of pizzas and Harry being more than affectionate – maybe to make up for the coldness of the morning. Unfortunately Harry had stolen his seat, along with all the cushions and Draco huffed. This slight would not be forgotten.“The zoo might be open.”“Muggles have zoos? What on earth do they keep there?”“Lions, tigers, bears, giraffes that sorta thing.” No dragons or kelpies? Nothing of interest then. What could any of those do against a griffin or minotaur? “Have you ever seen a platypus?”Draco had to say, him saying no made Harry seem even eager now to drag him to a Muggle Zoo.“We’re going. I need to see your reaction to a platypus.” Draco was rushed to dress to go to Muggle London and while Draco wasn’t too fussed on leaving his more wizarding attire behind, leaving the safe house was the issue. Would anyone really expect to see Draco in a Muggle zoo?Again, they Flooed, then apparated a bit closer.“What is it exactly?” Whatever it was it riled Potter up till he was marching off in one direction and Draco lagging behind.Well, if it was awful he could always tease Potter about his awful date idea. He wasn’t really into beasts or larger than him creatures. Crups were the exception really, he’d much rather be around people than animals.More Muggle money exchanged and why Draco had to now wear some flimsy piece of parchment around his wrist made no sense whatsoever. Harry tried to explain everything but seemed to dodge every and all questions regarding the animal he’d spoken of earlier. Whatever it was, Draco hoped it wasn’t too big.When Harry found the enclosure on some bold coloured map, Draco was quite aware of Harry shoving the box up to his face.“Are you recording me with that?”“I want to capture the confusion when you see them.”What a weirdo, is what Draco thought. How could a Muggle creature be at all confuddling when griffins and dragons existed?Of course, seeing the creature Muggles had labelled, platypus did make Draco recant that thought.What kind of-- He couldn’t school his expression or stop the words, too much in shock at this creature. “What kind of homunculus is that?” What did Harry say its name was again? A third duck, beaver and otter. And Harry laughed, so much so he’d lowered the mobile phone down, confusion no doubt caught in perfect detail.The other exhibits were just as barmy as the last and Harry seemed to have more fun watching him react than seeing the beasts.Unimpressed, Draco folded his arms and scolded Harry as quietly as he could, not wishing to have the Muggles overhear him.“That’s not a bear, Harry. You said I’d see bears.”The fur was bear-like but weren’t bears supposed to be more intimidating? Where was the hulking mass coupled with jaws and claws so long they’d make a wizard pause? And what was the ridiculous colourings of its fur? Had the Muggles painted the blasted beast?“It is a bear.” If Potter thought saying it enough then it be true, Draco was going to have to disappoint.“Whichever Muggle decided that is categorically wrong.” It’s kids were far too fluffy and Draco disliked the noises they made.“It’s endangered there aren’t many left.” Why? What use could this creature have to potions?“It’s eating plant matter.” What kind of bear only ate plants? Where was the blood? The crazy urge to rip people apart for intruding on its territory? Were all animals in the Muggle world so utterly feeble and dull?“It’s still a bear.”No. No it wasn’t.“I refuse.”“You can’t refuse to believe the panda is a bear.” Harry gave him a stubborn glare, one Draco was very well used to and so its effect was limited.“I just did.” He turned on his heel and left this animal be, what a disappointment. Harry grabbed him by the arm and pulled him toward yet another, and another, and another strange creature. And Draco made more snipes at the animals than the Muggles milling around.“Muggle animals are ridiculous.” Draco and Harry sat on one of the many benches, thankfully not many Muggles were around at this time. “Why are the bears eating plants, the mammals laying eggs and the bloody well fish giving birth to live young.”After Harry’s – Draco had lost count – fit of laughter he settled on saying, “Dolphins aren’t fish.”Rolling his eyes Draco was sure he could much more of this. “They’re in the sea, Harry.”“They’re mammals. There’s more than just fish in the sea, Draco,” Harry mimicked the condescending tone.“There’s literally a phrase to say there is exactly plenty more fish in the sea.”Harry scratched at his head. “That’s about relationships not actual fish or sea.”“What? Fish relationships? What are you even on about? No. This is more madness. I won’t be a part of it.”Harry laughed at him as he retreated back to the blocky map. How many more animals were even here?Every now and then, and it was a habit they’d seemed to form for this outing only, Harry would bump into him and Draco would incline his head to the side so Harry could whisper whatever Wizarding knowledge he wanted without alerting the Muggles.Another bump and Draco held back a sigh to stop with the ridiculous animal facts (and Draco didn’t consider half of these facts true by any means).“You’re sorta, well, adorable today.”Deadpan, Draco stopped walking. “Say that out loud once again and I’ll throw you to the bloody pandas.” Which resulted in Harry Potter losing his absolute mind. So much so, his laughter ended up nearly defeating him and he struggled to walk to the next enclosure. Well, at least Harry was enjoying himself.“At least use the word ‘endearing’, adorable is purely kept for baby animals or children.”“You don’t mind me calling you endearing? You’re so weird.”Draco wasn’t sure if he was glad or not Harry showed him the videos he’d taken. Granted seeing himself move was normal, not like those strange Muggle pictures. This phone seemed to also have caught Harry’s laughter as Draco’s expression changed.“You’re forbidden from showing those to anyone.” Harry played with his phone for a bit before he did what was best described as a pout.“Can we take a picture then? Or else no one will believe me we had a date at the zoo.” Draco was not convinced on why this was necessary but opted into it because Harry seemed set on having something he could brag over. The fact it was Draco himself, well, he wasn’t humble enough to ignore that request.“How is this working?” Draco whispered, seeing himself with Harry on the screen was a bit unsettling. He wasn’t sure how such a little box managed to capture them. Even when he moved closer, the phone tracked him. Weird.“You look so confused.”“Curious,” Draco corrected. “When does it take the picture?”“The big red button, tap it.” What was with Muggles and buttons, it wasn’t the first time he’d seen them. Harry awkwardly held the phone at a weird angle and Draco tapped it. The phone made a noise he hadn’t heard before.“There. Good. Let’s go see the bats and be done then.”Horrified, Draco refused. Bats? No. How were they even here, in the Muggle’s World? What happened if they escaped and then started biting people? What if they were infected already? Draco shuddered, didn’t understand Harry’s enthusiasm.The bats were tiny. Tiny in comparison of the wizarding variety. These weren’t scary at all.“They’re pretty cute.”Pretty cute was an understatement. Why did wizarding bats develop a case of hideous and crinkled skin? Why was the muggle equivalent a big-eyed, squeaking predator of the night? Because as Draco stood there trying to act as if they weren’t – their little ears started flicking back and forth in such a way that reminded him of an excited crup.“You like them?” Harry smiled wider. “You do, you like them.”They were adorable, with a little nose and black round eyes and a tiny head.“I suppose, they aren’t the worst here,” he settled on ignoring how much Harry could follow the trail of Draco liking both crups and now these little guys. This wasn’t helping his image, at all.“Do you secretly like all small animals?” Harry teased and Draco gave him a once over.“Maybe. You are quite short,” he said, hushed enough for the passing family of Muggles not to hear. They most definitely would be able to see Harry’s blush.“I’m not short.”“Tiny, little, itsy-bitsy.” For effect, he patted Harry’s head and didn’t bother to hide his sneer.“You are so aggravating.”“That's the idea.”They laughed a bit before a Muggle child ran around the exhibit shrieking and Draco made an immediate exit with Harry tapping away at his phone. Was this over now? Not that Draco was keen to return to stagnate in one house but he was tired.But Harry made a point to offer to go to see another movie and Draco wondered if he’d started to be influenced by the strange puffs which tasted too buttery, too salty and yet ultimately something Draco had finished by the end of the movie. And he wanted them again.This time, it wasn’t so strange, though Draco still didn’t understand the table which spewed parchment. It seemed handy, especially if one put them into schools. No more ‘I ran out of parchment’ excuses.The previews, as Harry called them, ran through advertisements much like the television did and for the most part, Draco ignored them. He didn’t understand what was being sold to him half the time.“Harry, can I ask you a question about this Luca of yours?”“I suppose and he’s hardly mine.” Harry slotted his drink into the arm of the chair with a little too much force.“Was your magic uncontrollable then too?”“Yeah, just a bit. I wasn’t so angry back then. Why?”Six years. Having a problem for six years clearly said it wasn’t going to shift on its own and whatever Harry had done, no matter how hard or much he’d tried – it wasn’t working. And soon enough, the potions which did help would be like everything else. Not helpful.“Maybe you should see a Healer.”“You argued for me not to.”Honesty was best here. “Because I was thinking about me and Hermione’s positions, not what was best for you.”“I’m not bloody crazy--”“No, you aren’t, not at all. But you are still unwell.”“I’m fine,” Harry said again and Draco knew now what Ginny was talking about. Would Harry ever admit he had a problem? Not simply, ‘I can’t sleep’ but talk about what the nightmares which followed him so easily.“If you say so.” Pushing too much was no way to have Harry listen, Draco let Harry off and didn’t ask again. Tonight was a way to forget about murder and death and Draco didn’t want to spoil Harry’s fun. So he sat back and waited for the showing to start. “What’s this one about?”Someone near the front turned and shushed him and Draco was aghast at the sheer audacity of the Muggle. Harry found it equally parts hilarious.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Taking into consideration Draco and Harry had left the Muggle zoo hours ago, Draco shouldn’t still have possession over the parchment which had once been around his wrist. He didn’t understand it. Why tag everyone, even the Muggle children at the entrance? He twirled around his fingers, not making sense of any of the numbers on it. They didn’t seem to be handwritten at all, too much like a perfect copy and Draco didn’t understand how that was even possible. They didn’t have auto-quills which would write whatever was dictated to them.“Draco,” Harry yelled from the other room. He pocketed the confounding thing and went to see what had Harry so alarmed.“An owl was trying to deliver this, to you.”Now, owls might have the ability to track down whoever but to have it come here wasn’t the most convenient. Not if someone witnessed the owl fluttered into seemingly decrepit building. Someone’s curiosity might cost Harry his hideaway. The bird was unimpressed, eager only to eat the cut of meat Harry had retrieved for it.“It’s Nott’s, it’ll bite if you don’t feed her first.”“I got that much.” The owl hadn’t dropped the letter yet and it didn’t bode well. Nott must have instructed her only to hand the letter over to Draco himself.“Let’s see what you have.” Only waiting for her payment and treat, the owl left as soon as Harry handed over them both, him ever wary of her beak.The letter wasn’t cryptic. While it wasn’t a riddle to solve, the plainness of it said how much Nott was no longer having fun – no longer hedging his bets as Draco assumed earlier. No, a warning, clear as day and it was awful, truly awful news. How bad did his situation need to be to warrant Nott’s mercy?“He says I should leave politics and never show my face in the voting halls again.”“Bit dramatic.”“Sensible if someone is after my vote or influence. Which according to this, is exactly what’s going on.” Draco tossed the letter, fell to the couch and sighed. Now things really didn’t make any sense. “Why try and kill me beforehand if my vote’s so precious?”Harry read the letter, flipped it over a few times double checking if they hadn’t missed anything. “Maybe there’s someone who wants you dead so you can’t vote and another who wants you to vote?”“That does explain why a corpse ended up in my house.”“When’s the next vote anyway? What’s it over?” Typical Harry didn’t know.“Hermione’s trying to make a subsidiary account for those who are from muggleborn families, of course purebloods see this as a handout opposed to their ideals they aren’t worth the galleons.” Draco considered himself a target by Deatheaters but truly it was the politically charged fools who thought to try and coerce him into another life of poor choices to hoard power. He might end up richer but Malfoys didn’t need any extra Knuts in their Vaults either. “It’s in a few days.”That didn’t settle the anxious argument someone out there had killed a threat for him. Maybe. Why else would they present the body in such a bold and blasé way, if not to try and make him calmer. More complaisant. Paranoia had served Draco well over the years and until his vote was cast, he wasn’t going to think this was over yet.“You’ll be safe here,” Harry said with such a serious expression it didn’t sound like a platitude but more of a promise. Draco laughed, something so insignificant shouldn’t make him feel at ease, not at all. “I mean it.”“I know you do.” That was Harry, through and through. “So, I’ve to hide here until Monday?”“Sure, then we can both head to the Ministry.”“Excellent.”The only bother to arise after the war was a slight protest. One which had all of five people, loud and boisterous and Draco remembered walking by them bewildered someone would make such an effort to show off their own bias on potion ingredients reclassification. It meant nothing, just a way for those who didn’t understand brewing (like Harry) to know how dangerous and rare the items were without much effort. They’d been moved on after an hour. The chances Draco would be attacked there was close to nil.So Draco Malfoy was hidden away along with his loyal house elf in Harry’s home for a few days. Each time Draco tried to suggest maybe they could check back at the Manor, Harry didn’t agree. It was more likely whoever was trying to hurt him would be waiting for him to appear and they’d take their chances.So, he had to trust that the Manor would alert him. Would the rings be safe? Two decoys and hidden under blooming plants might be enough.Each day grew more anxious. For all Draco knew Harry wasn’t sleeping at all because he was waking up every few hours and not prepared to return to his dreams. What if something happened just then, just at that exact moment he fell asleep? Harry had made a near permanent fort of pillows on the couch, where he sat and read over Moran’s files, the rest seemed to have been returned. Lotty nearly had two wizard curse her to death when she tried to sneak into the kitchen and make lunch one day and made too much noise.“It’s tomorrow, isn’t it?” Harry rubbed at his face and Draco was just as grim. There was no way either of them were sleeping and honestly. It was starting to piss him off how Harry no longer lingered around him. (He most certainly wasn’t going to admit the now empty space in bed was a negative). He had his pride and not even a couple of days poor sleep wouldn’t force it out of him.The Manor didn’t alert him to anything during his time away and Draco grew more moody as finally, the voting day arrived.“Ready?” Harry stayed in his Auror robes, an intimidation tactic if Draco had ever seen one. He didn’t agree to that question, he was sure if he’d had breakfast he’d have vomited it back up before now. What should Draco expect?They Flooed to the Ministry and Draco was the most uncomfortable he’d ever felt as crowds of people milled to and fro. Harry had to tug at his sleeves to move and even then, Draco wasn’t sure running to the lifts was the dumbest idea – if not the least inconspicuous.The lift down was stifling and Harry scowled at everyone who’d pushed their way in.Everyone who met his eye was a suspect, everyone who didn’t was an accomplice too guilt-ridden to face him. Paranoid might be what some would call it but Draco was sure he could feel a set of eyes on him. He just couldn’t make out who.The voting hall was similar to the dreaded court system. Circles of chairs and tables around the centre, which in it sat a large box, bolted to the floor. Harry and Draco picked two free chairs and wondered if someone was going to attack the very hall.Draco didn’t understand at all. Why would someone wait till now? Voting rules were clear, he couldn’t rescind his choice, he couldn’t change it once he’d written it. But as everyone plodded in, not at all fired up over this, Draco glanced over to Potter who was trying his best to observe as many people as possible.At least a third of the room should vote to deny this. He spied familiar faces around the room, most had attended Hermione’s party, those who hadn’t were amongst themselves. Wilks winked at him from across the room and it wasn’t jut Draco who bristled at it. Harry bumped into him again and Draco let him whisper in his ear about how Nott and Pansy were acting off.Nott and Pansy were together by the door, whispering away to each other and Draco said back, “Even if I wasn’t here the people I wanted to vote a certain way should still do that. Me not being here doesn’t make much sense. That’s just one vote.”“Well, whatever he thought was going to happen Nott doesn’t look happy you’re here.”“He definitely doesn’t look happy you’re here,” Draco harked back. Nott was sending his best glare his way and Draco couldn’t help himself. He smiled, gave a little wave. Pansy elbowed her husband and whispered some more. Both of them looked panicked. They genuinely believed Draco would hide away.Sitting down each member was given one sheet of parchment, no longer than a few inches. Those who didn’t wish to vote but were present would burn theirs and the others would write down their opinion. Harry and Draco both wrote: FOR. Once the parchment was filled, it halved itself before flying into the transparent box in the middle of the room. Even though some of the early voters could be easily spotted at the beginning by the time the entire room had voted, their lay a hurricane of paper inside, never ceasing or slowing.Those who refused to vote could become a counter though, from what Draco could tell everyone had an opinion on this one. A goblin was asked to read and check the results. Meticulous and happy to be paid made for a decent referee to these preceding and Draco had heard some complain about the goblin’s role. Saying how it shouldn’t have the job since this was a human ministry. And Draco could tell those who did say such a thing weren’t bias towards their own but just had another avenue where they could cheat closed off to them. Some people were far too obvious.The goblin took his sweet time and Draco and Harry were antsy to leave. But until the vote was declared no one could leave their seats.“What’d you do to Theo? He’s about to burst a vein.”Draco turned around, saw Blaise had taken up the seat behind and above him. Harry’s face steeled into something similar to disgust and suspicion.“Blaise.” Draco tried not to remember Harry assumed him as the culprit. It was a strange, weighty and yet hollow coldness which lay in the centre of his heart. Blaise couldn’t do this because they’d been friends for a while; he was one of the only classmates to come to Astoria’s funeral. Why would Blaise turn on him now? What could possibly cause Harry’s doubt – unless it was jealousy?“Nott doesn’t like me much, I had to interrogate him a few days ago.” Harry jumped into the conversation and Draco nodded along. He wasn’t sure why he was dropping this information if he disliked Blaise so intensely.“Seriously? What’d he do? Don’t tell me he’s back into the whole betting shtick?” The grin, which usually had Draco follow suit twisted his insides up this time. What a mess, Harry shouldn’t have said anything. Draco shouldn’t have asked for his opinion. This doubt was too much.“No, a murder case.”Blaise whistled. “You can’t be serious? Nott killed someone? I don’t believe you for a second, Potter.”“No, but I’m pretty sure he knows who did.” Draco didn’t need to look at Harry or Blaise to tell what sort of expressions they shared. Merlin, why couldn’t they just get on and Draco’’s life be slightly less complicated.“I think it was you.”Well, Potter was never the most subtle person, was he? Blaise looked as surprised as Draco felt.“Yeah? And why’s that?”“I’m a pretty good judge of character.” Whether Harry was being serious or not didn’t stop Blaise laughing, in a good-natured sort of way. Honestly, Draco chuckled a bit too because Harry wasn’t very good at noticing much other than what the Aurors trained him for – and Draco wondered if this meant he was now considered ‘good’ in character. (That couldn’t be right.)Blaise didn’t seem to mind the accusations after that, calling on Draco to attend his mother’s latest ball – one which Draco refused outright. The Zabini’s had a certain connotation towards their hosted balls and Draco wasn’t a youngling to run around and flirt with the debutants of high society.The goblin, in a monotone – bored, really – voice declared the legislature passed with nearly two to one of the votes. Immense grumblings started from those who voted the opposite way – or at least wanted everyone else to believe they voted the opposite. He wondered what Nott and Pansy had voted as they kept their heads down, ignoring Hermione as she was congratulated for bringing such a fair governance: a dig, if Draco heard right. She didn’t seem to let it irk her enough to stop and argue though. She was making a beeline for Harry.Hermione had thanked him once she’d had a chat with Harry. Checking in to see if he was okay and how everything was. Blaise and Draco chatted amongst themselves and Draco had taken note of Nott and Pansy’s quick exit. Blaise had offered his congratulations to Granger too.Now, if Blaise had left it at that, then sure, Draco would have been happy but no. Harry was there by his side too and the two had been like… Like a Slytherin and Gryffindor. They bickered as they moved ever slowly back to the lifts and he couldn’t take much of the conversation. Why they were both trying to act like somehow Draco owed them both was silly. As if Draco needed Harry to walk him and out when he was available to cast a vote too. And Blaise should shut his mouth before anyone else considered them shagging with how much he’d winked and made innuendo.And of course, of bloody course, Harry had been jealous. Obviously, blindingly and Draco would buy Blaise a new coat in the sense that he now knew what a jealous Harry looked like for future reference. After he’d sent him a few hexes to put a stop to the awful, awful conversation.“You owe me, Draco. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have won that one.”“I’m sure I would have managed.”“You’d have managed Wilks pretty well, I’m sure.”Draco sighed, as he heard Harry gripe at that one. Really, today had been a weird one.“Is there any other votes that matter coming up?” Harry asked, seemingly wanting Blaise to answer. But Draco didn’t want to delve into too much political talk out in the open.“None that matter to any of us, I would hope,” Draco said and for a moment, he saw Blaise scowl.“What?”“You’re ruining my fun here,” Blaise waved him away, and left.“Weird. What’s the next one?”“It’s agricultural, about hippocampus fins.” Blaise really had no real reason to be upset.“Any others?”“There’s hundreds in the works, Harry. Thousands if we look at the ones which are knocked back by being too biased.” Blaise could want one of the next ones through but it didn’t make much sense, most playing this game had an agenda to fill.But Harry kept that twisted expression and Draco wanted to move swiftly away from the idea Blaise was in any shape or form involved. After all, if Blaise was the one behind all of this, why would he do this now? Why not wait for the very vote he cared about? Harry’s assumption was wrong.“I could use a drink.”“You read my mind,” Draco joked, as if anyone could. Especially not Potter. Heavens he lacked a certain finesse – instead of being mist seeping into the cracks and weak points of someone’s head he’d be more like… Like a battering ram, going for the biggest most solid door.Maybe Harry was as equally still on edge as his idea of a drink was back home. Draco couldn’t complain, not when Lotty greeted them, relieved they’d voted and not, as she put it, ‘been terribly murdered’.For one, Draco left Harry to locate how many bottle of butterbeer or FireWhiskey he still had in this place while he dressed down, showered and tried to let the warmth of the water ease out some of the tension.Harry had completed his mission, taken it upon himself to start without him.And it was somewhere around his fifth bottle when the thought of staying here wasn’t so bad. No awful memories to conjure up, none at all. Just having to deal with Harry using the shower for hours upon end. How he hadn’t run through the world’s water supply, Draco would never know.Harry’s face was starting to resemble the colour of his robes than anything else. “I think you might be getting a little drunk there.” Draco had to say he might have slurred that a little too. If Harry devolving into a giggling mess was supposed to be his denial, well Draco wasn’t going to pull him up on it. They both needed to calm down after those days of hyper-vigilance to the slightest noise.“Maybe whoever killed Moran is my ally?”“Seems that way,” Harry said as he curled up next to him. If he hadn’t spent the last few days avoiding him then he might have shooed him away. (He wouldn’t have, Draco laughed to himself too and he wondered if the heat on his face showed) Draco was expecting a duel at least. This was too anticlimactic and a little part of him was disappointed he didn’t know the who behind the death of Moran.“Lotty was lured out so...” Harry tried to follow that thought but he ended up just curling into Draco more and he wasn’t going to complain. A night without discussing this would be a relief. What or why Draco started to run his fingers through Harry’s still wild hair, he couldn’t say. But Harry never seemed close enough these last few weeks to do much else than step into his space and back out again. Ever since his magic had gone wrong Harry had built walls.“No more,” Draco sighed against Harry’s neck. A few hours of silence and comfort was all he was asking. No more fretting and questioning over every detail, they had all day tomorrow and the day after that too to deal with the mystery.Harry squirmed and curled up more, Draco curling around Harry’s back.“I can’t be the only one tired enough to sleep for a week,” Draco muttered, shutting his eyes and not sure how it was possible, but he was comfy here, on this horrific couch. Harry hummed back, seemingly happy enough to fall asleep on him.Harry most definitely had fallen asleep on him.“Bed,” Draco coaxed. If Astoria was asleep, he could scoop her up and join her. Harry hadn’t taken his offer – never stated offer – and he once again didn’t know what he should do or where he stood. “Come on, bed. Harry, wake up.”A zombie was what Harry was akin to now. He moved slow, didn’t even bother to open his eyes as he walked back to bed, Draco’s hand in his. For a moment, Draco saw Harry consider saying no, his fingers loosening. The most likely convincer was sleep and the promise of a warm bed.It took longer to get into the blasted thing than for either of them to fall sleep. Draco dreamed and found himself back at Hogwarts, staring over at Harry again over breakfast. And then he was back at the Ministry doing his best to converse with someone Hermione might need only to Harry pop up and ruin it.They bickered, though Harry’s face morphed and changed and Draco was no longer arguing with Harry Potter but just some random guy in the middle of the hall. And he jumped again when Harry was again, there. This time he was laughing, a vague familiarity how he doubled over, he spoke but Draco was fine with this. Until the vile magic from before dug at his old scars and--Draco awoke to the heat of Harry shallow breaths hitting his neck and as he shifted, he felt why, Harry was hard against his thigh. His position hadn’t been entirely fair in that regard, Draco eased away, he’d pretty much held onto Potter like a pillow.“I’ll take care of it--” Harry tried to pull away but Draco didn’t know if it was the total darkness, the type that didn’t change between him closing his eyes or not, but the idea didn’t panic him. Or the relief that this might very be the reason why Harry had started avoiding sleeping in the same bed.“Do it here.”A hiccup and then silence. Until, very quietly, Harry muttered something and Draco was hit on the back. Twisting around searching for whatever it was – and Draco was sure even in his still sleepy addled mind he could take a very good guess – and found it. A tub, smooth all round despite the groove on the lid. While he flicked it open, the snapping of elastic and the rustle of clothing made Harry hiss.It was cold as Draco took a dollop with two fingers, rubbed it warm between his fingers all the while Harry’s breathing puffed at his neck faster. He pawed around to find Harry’s hand, warmer and less steady than normal and slathered the lube over Harry’s palm, did the same with each of his fingers.“Fuck,” Harry whimpered against Draco and he couldn’t say it didn’t excite him.Harry tried to stay as quiet as possible but every gasp, every murmur of his name made Draco eager to join, see if he could make Harry louder, lose all control. Starting at his hip, he trailed down while Harry swore again. Either the teasing was too much or Harry was just impatient but grabbed his wrist, guided him down.Familiar but not the same; Draco followed Harry’s lead, letting him set the pace. Maybe it was to stop Draco panicking, maybe it was stop Harry moaning too loud but Harry kissed him like he’d die and low in Draco’s gut tingled at the attention. Pushing back, he started to run his thumb over the head of Harry’s cock. Instantly, Harry started kissing him, desperate and completely unable to stay quiet.Draco had the distinct thought he couldn’t breath fast enough to keep up with him.Harry came over his hand with a drawn out moan that made Draco keep kissing at his neck, not wanting this to end. And before Draco could say anything, Harry kissed him again, pulling at his clothing until his shirt was bunched up and Harry was biting at his skin, kissing down his stomach. Pulling everything else away.Fuck.Oh, fuck.“Harry.” That was about as eloquent his words were as Harry swallowed him down.Desperately he wanted more, tempted to grab onto Harry’s hair and push him further – but he couldn’t do that either. Harry had trapped him awkwardly, his leg hoisted over Harry’s shoulder and he leant on the other, so there was no room to move off the bed. The only thing Draco could do was claw and fist at the sheets under him.Occasionally a nail digging into the underside of his thigh had him curling his toes and Draco could handle that along with the smooth heat of Harry’s mouth or the lavish attention of his tongue. The only pattern was the more he said Harry’s name (and this wasn’t, couldn’t be his voice), the more teasing and slower Harry became. Torture, sweet almost there but - not enough, torture.He wasn’t sure when he’d last felt such a need but he’d made a mantra of Harry’s name for it.This was taking too long and was entirely too much for Draco to do much other than give some appreciation, he tugged at Harry’s hair, not able to get the best grip as Harry continued bobbing his head and making him whine.“Harry, hurry up.” He pushed his leg higher, his inner thigh up against Harry’s hollowed cheek, he wasn’t sure how demanding and in control he was sounding while he could barely keep himself from trying to wriggle and squirm free.Finally, Draco was allowed to move, Harry shifting his weight and Draco wasn’t expecting more nails scrape down his thigh all the while Harry did as he was told. He’d cried out, trying to push Harry away in time but arched away in his orgasm.He heard Harry swallow and gulp in the dark.“Fuck,” Harry sighed as he dropped back onto the bed next to him. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while.” When Draco was still reeling, Harry snuggled into him. “Is everything okay?”Draco shushed him, letting his brain catch up and for his body not to feel so sensitive and vulnerable. Where Harry had scratched, he traced with his fingers, they nipped pleasantly against the film of sweat on his skin.“How long have you wanted to do that exactly?” Draco realised then he wasn’t a passionate man – a romantic one, perhaps. He’d always liked long and slow moments and languish whenever the other wasn’t around. Harry seemed the opposite, Draco wondered if he’d ever felt that sort of intensity before. He couldn’t remember. It had been a long time.“You looked really good at that party of yours,” Harry said and Draco thought back to the evening Harry had managed to look surprised when they’d seen each other.“So,” Draco let a hysterical noise out, he couldn’t believe this. “You wanted to get on your knees because I looked ‘good’?” He swore because he’d just assumed Harry was like him. Well, he always knew he didn’t look at people the way most did – Pansy once argued with him he should initiate things more and Draco didn’t understand anything. Even with Astoria he’d never fell into bed before he’d started to like her, love her even. “Circe, Potter. You’re ridiculous.”“I never knew you could make those sounds.” Despite the darkness covering him, Draco hid his face behind his hands.“Thankfully no one will ever believe you if you try to tell them.”After a few spells to clean up, Harry had snuggled back into him again and Draco fell back asleep. The morning came faster than the both of them.“Harry?” He grumbled in the empty bed. He rubbed his forehead, well he wasn’t too hungover. Wandering to the kitchen he found a note – not on parchment, far too white for that:WORK =( Will be latest 7.Draco wasn’t sure what the series of x’s at the bottom meant but he called on Lotty. She was happy to be given a task and Draco happy to finally give her one.“I’m heading to the Manor, I want to pick up a few things.”“Lotty can do that!”“No, plan whatever you can for the next meal. I don’t think I can take any more lukewarm pizza.”“Lotty will restock.”Draco debated on what to bring, he wasn’t going to assume he was going to staying over at Harry’s for much longer. Although, Draco wouldn’t mind staying over again, he snorted. Right as if Potter wouldn’t be smug at that admission.He checked the Owlery, where some letters had been deposited and ignored. A quick look and it was from no one with any urgent news. Daphne and Luna with their own take on the new vote. Daphne and her parents were absent from the vote, no doubt a move to show displeasure but not change the more likely outcome. They’d complain like the rest how they’d be taxed and how unfair it was to put children not their own through school.Wandering around the Manor, checking for any more surprises, he made his way to the ballroom.“I really hate this place,” he muttered, leaning against the door frame and letting it sink in. He should care for this place a great deal, Scorpius was born upstairs and his own childhood had many pleasant memories.And he loathed every room in some way, he couldn’t have Flooed Astoria or baby Scorpius – as soon as he was able – away to the Château fast enough.Really, he only kept this place here for Scorpius since he hadn’t a negative memory of the place and it would be his one day. To do as he pleased and if he so pleased to burn it down and start anew, Draco would rejoice.The Floo burned with a FireCall waiting.“Where’ve you been? I’ve been here for an age!” Blaise huffed and Draco nearly said the whole truth just to see if he would believe it.“You want to come through, then.”“I want you to know how annoying you are.” Blaise stepped through and dusted himself off. “Really, can you just tell me what’s Potter’s problem?”And then the outer wards did break, shattered as five people threw themselves through. Draco stumbled at the sensation. But he couldn’t make much out of the world around him and the Manor itself acting like a wounded beast, pictures upon pictures forced into his head but it hindered him. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t even stand on his own feet when the Manor went quiet.And then out of instinct, he raised his wand and readied a hex. But he hesitated. “Blaise?” He squinted, the headache was turning fast into a migraine.“Came to complain about Potter but now isn’t the time, is it?”Blaise grabbed onto him, ready to apparate and Draco yanked his arm back. “I need to get the laboratory.”“Your potions can bloody well wait.”“It’s not about the potions.”If any of these raging wizards got their hands onto the real rings, Draco couldn’t be sure how many years of torture would await him. He couldn’t take the risk. He’d thought them idiots before and almost died. Now wasn’t the time to underestimate any of them.“You can barely walk, Draco. We need to go, now.” Blaise scoffed and ran his hands through his hair as Draco refused again. “Fine, bloody hell. You absolute git. If I die because of some bullshit potion I will haunt you.”Malfoy Manor was massive, filled with rooms which led to more rooms. A maze of corridors leading to more rooms. Not including the passageways and secrets installed in the Manor centuries ago, Draco and Blaise moved slowly but with purpose throughout the house.Quartz and his men seemed to be throwing hexes at everything and anything. Ruining whatever they could. They could heard his vulgar yells throughout and at least it acted as a pinpoint of where the intruders were.He told Blaise to stay at the top of the stairs, to alert him if anyone else was close by. Slipping down the steps and tearing out the plant, he dug with his fingers in the dirt, frantic and panicked when he didn’t find it immediately.“Well? Did you get whatever it was?” Blaise hissed down at him.Not yet. And then he found it, found them and pocketed them faster. “Yes.”And then Blaise hissed back, “They’re coming, we better go.”Blaise didn’t reach the bottom of the stairs fast enough. A series of curses flew in the air as the door was thrown from its hinges, disintegrating in the air into grey sludge. Blaise dived to the side, Draco ducking down and knowing he was--a sitting duck?Is this what Harry meant?– he eyed Blaise and with as much force as Draco could manage, migraine not easing, he sent a few of his own to deter them. It was the sludge’s fault. As each bolt and wisp, each Dark spell fired, the air turned smoky and thick. Draco thought himself safe, if only because whoever was at the top of the stairs had a shit aim.In a moment of silence, Blaise hauled him over to where there was more cover, a barrier spell that was murdered fast by the two quick hits in succession.Breathing hard, Draco wasn’t sure why Blaise wasn’t apparating them just yet. And then he dribbled.“Fuck.” Draco touched his side, blood pooling through his shirt. It didn’t hurt, not until he tried to stand. Then it burned and sapped the strength from his legs.“Fuck,” Blaise mimicked back, tried to pull him further into the alcove but Draco couldn’t manage it. He was stuck while he could hear Quartz and his goons throw more and more hexes. Chunks of the wall above them were falling off and Draco tried to stay calm.If he was hurt, everyone on the wards would know. He just prayed his mother kept his son out of the way. But even if Harry returned to check on him, they’d still be outnumbered.“My healing spells aren’t great, but it should help.” His healing spells were by far terrible and he cast the same spell several times before it slowed the bleeding but it failed to staunch it completely. Fuck.Draco hit the back of his head against the stone. Fuck, he couldn’t apparate. Trying to do so while bleeding out was a worse fate than a splice; he would reach Mungo’s but he’d more likely fall to the floor dead – blood pushed out of him as he apparated.“You killed my boy, Malfoy!”“I wouldn’t waste the effort,” Draco snarled back.Blaise looked at him like he’d grown an extra limb. “Can you not anger the man who’s trying to kill us? Please?” He was panicking and Draco tried to stand again, he stumbled, couldn’t move without the help of Blaise and the wall supporting him. Think. Think. There had to be a way out of here.“As if we can calm him of the death of his son.” There was no reasoning his way out of this. Blaise undid his cloak, a crumpled mess and much unlike what he usually wore and wrapped it around him in the worst tourniquet Draco had ever seen.“Fuck, if I apparate they’ll swarm you. And you--” Draco closed his eyes for a second, wanting the mist in the room to dissipate a bit. His eyes stung terribly and Blaise slapped him. “You stay awake you absolute wanker.”But he didn’t, wasn’t sure of the leading events because sometimes he heard Blaise yell a curse back up the stairs and yet never see the end of it. Consciousness faded in and out and Blaise shook him madly at one point and even then it only roused him from the dark sleep for a few seconds.A flare of magic somewhere from upstairs jolted him awake. Was that--Blaise peeked his head out. “Thank Merlin.” Draco didn’t understand. He felt cold, colder than being thrown into a bath which water had yet to be heated. Blaise spoke but Draco didn’t want to hear the words, his head splitting at every sound. Harry was here, wasn’t he? He could feel the wards highlight his presence and then three others popped up and Draco groaned at them.“Just let me die here, Blaise.”“What?”He didn’t mean it. Not even for a second.“I can’t take being saved by Potter in front of my parents and my son,” he tried to laugh but it hurt and Draco wished he hadn't tried to make light of the situation.“You arse. I was worried you were giving up there. Well, looks like you have some back-up of your own so let’s find you someone who can use healing spells.” Blaise hoisted him up to his shoulder, tried to leave one hand free to keep his wand arm but Draco was too heavy and regardless of where Blaise groped or pulled he didn't seem to be able to manage defending them both and carrying Draco at the same time.Draco didn’t feel a thing, he couldn’t focus, a strong fog in his head that made him feel like he was swimming in a thick stew.“Scorpius-” Draco frowned, he’d slurred that name terribly. “My son is a genius.”“Uh, is this shock? Are you delirious? Which one means you’re closer to death again? Fuck. Look, Draco just breathe and stay calm.”“I’ve bled all over the marble. It’s like a finger-painting.”“Okay,” Blaise said and placed him back on the ground. “Stay put. Don't open your wound.”Draco pouted, touched his blood with his own fingers – how weird, he was touching his own blood? – and he couldn’t tell if it was warm or not. Weird.“Blaise, I think I might be dying.” Whether it was the effect of having all the wards in the house which light up Draco’s head, kept him from falling back asleep, he wasn’t going to be of much use. “Blaise?” He repeated his friends name for a long time, only to realise he was no longer beside him.He was going to die. He was genuinely going to die if he didn’t think of something. Undoing Blaise’s tourniquet he realised the healing spell had Unseamed itself. Ripping back to the ghastly wound as before. Letting out a high-pitched hysterical giggle didn’t make him feel better about this.He was going to die unless he saved himself. Unlike before, he had no blood in his lungs to frighten him. Tying up the cloak again, Draco tried to think through the heaviness.What slowed blood flow? Vampire and bat saliva increased it.No, no what was the opposite? Basilisk, no, no it was a cockatrice – or maybe it was wormwroot? Draco pushed himself to crawl to the stores and he tried to pull the entire cupboard down, but it all but wobbled.To spell it down would be pointless. What did Draco even have in it? He couldn’t brew any potions, he hadn’t the time. And the only potions were--“Siobhan.”Had she ever taken her supplies back? Had she?But one spell, maybe, was all Draco had in him. If he beckoned the Healer’s supplies and there was nothing that could help him he was dead unless Blaise returned with someone who could heal competently.Grasping his wand, he stared down at it. His old one hadn’t lost its allegiance; Draco simply could never use it again. Never stop thinking about the spells he’s cast with it. The wand had disgusted him. His mother’s had too. And this newer wand was so very different from the two.Taking a second to calm, to not think about how much pain awaited him, Draco lifted his wand, shaking and jerky in the air. Just focus. This last burst of adrenaline was more likely the very last his body would manage. Draco hated gambling against odds, people had some way to even the score. Odds, odds were never in Draco’s favour.“Accio, Healer’s supplies.”The Unseamed ripped his flesh and Draco cried out, despite the feel of his magic working and wand doing as it was asked. While Siobhan’s supply bag threw itself against his legs, Draco was trying to stop the horrid tightness in his chest.Frantic and as fast as his wound would allow him, he upturned the bag and everything seemed to spill out. For too long, to the point Draco couldn’t keep it high enough. Damn it.Defeated, he fell back against the wall, heaving and labouring each breath. What could he do now? What hope did he have when Siobhan didn't have a replenishing potion? He scanned over the array over personal and professional items. Everything from hairbrushes and combs to loose seeds and raw ingredients covered the floor.Maybe, just maybe, he clawed the nearest seeds, turned them around. They might help him. But he had no mortar and pestle, no acid to tear their protective coat. Damn it. This couldn’t be it. This couldn’t be how he ended.With nothing left to lose, he threw them into his mouth. Crunching and chewing, the seeds had an overwhelmingly acidic taste and Draco fought to not vomit where he sat. Keep chewing, keeping living. One by one he took them from his mouth and squashed the now dissolving shell and pushed it against the Unseamed.It wouldn’t be closed with just this, but the blood would slow and that’s all Draco could ask for being without knowing too much on how one even went about curing an Unseamed. He yelped every time a new one was added, a thin covering Draco wasn’t sure would last more than ten minutes, give or take. But time was what he needed. Now, now he just had to stop being such a – what was the phrase again? A sitting duck. Right. He just had to deal with these stairs.Resting was always a thought, a traitorous and deadly thought Draco had. If he stopped here, if he dared slow down he would die. He just had to find somewhere else to hide, somewhere not in plain sight. Reminding himself of Harry, forcing himself to go up the stairs helped. He wasn’t going to be outdone walking up stairs. Harry was having a laugh if he thought Draco couldn’t also be unbelievably stubborn.But each time Draco lifted an arm, tried to move a leg, it was too much, the Unseamed shredding his skin further, and Draco didn’t even manage to crawl to the stairs. So he lay on the floor, listening. Energy spent, adrenaline gone.The sound of duelling happening up above was clearer now, not one or two but large scale and with numerous witches and wizards. He couldn’t make it out of here without making someone hesitate, take one of his loved ones by surprise and cause a split second of them losing focus.But as Draco tired, the noises got louder, then fainter and Draco couldn’t feel any of his family any longer. The wards were finished, completely and Draco’s mind started to lull again.Maybe he should rest. Let those fighting fight and hold on until they could find him.A strange calmness took him then, his heartbeat no longer the thudding sound in his ears. And he felt around in his pockets, maybe he should hide the rings again. Only his fingers came across a thin parchment and Draco blinked at the now blood-stained ticket. It had been quite ridiculous, really. To think Harry liked him enough to pull him out into the world of Muggles - something Draco once said to despise and want gone - and show off their freakish animals. “Harry," he said to the stone floor and started to count in his head. Most duels didn't last long, he just had to hold out a little bit longer. Just a little bit. "Hurry up."
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
His eyesight dimmed, his breathing hurt and his heart was too slow. Four-hundred and twenty-four. The shattering and breaking of the Manor from the floor above him was all he heard. Voices bellowing powerful spells enough for the marble to tremble. Four-hundred and twenty-five. When was someone going to find him? Would anyone make it in time?Four-hundred and twenty-six. A tickling sensation wormed itself through the nape of his neck to his forehead. Blinking, trying to force his eyes to stay open – just stay awake – four-hundred and twenty-seven – he wasn’t sure when the ground had changed colour. No longer was it dark but bright, too bright near blinding and Astoria and himself stood together.A memory.Had the entire store of them been destroyed? Another worm at his neck and then another, and another. Groaning the images flashed across his consciousness so fast he was close to retching.“Astori--” He couldn’t say her name completely, throat parched like sandpaper.They were both young back then, Draco thinking his family would accept the proposal. But she’d wept loudly, agreed even faster and Draco had forgotten how utterly naive he was then too. Was he always this optimistic? The years had managed to drill that out of him.Four-hundred and—what was it? Twenty? Draco groaned, wanted to push himself up and look at her closer. But the memories were too quick and morphed into each other. Sometimes, Draco couldn’t tell when or where a memory was from because they washed over his eyes and left him with another.He couldn’t count after seeing her again.Someone might have rushed down the stairs but Draco couldn’t see anything not while the memories buried themselves into his head. He didn’t really want to see these. To see Astoria smile and chatter and talk like she was still here. But here she was whirling around in her wedding dress and Draco wanted to weep at how he was now stuck, dying and his last sight wasn’t even of reality.Was the warmth on his hand more blood of his own or someone else trying to rouse him from these phantoms?How many memories played out, Draco couldn’t count, too many of them were forgotten in a haze of sounds not from them but from the world around him he could not see. More sounds of shoes on the stone stairs.If these memories were out, then the Manor must be in quite a state. Loud and not entirely unfamiliar, Draco heard his name being called, but his well preserved memories stopped him from seeing who was with him now.“Dad?” He knew that one, oh he knew that one well. “Dad, come on, wake up.”Silly boy, he was awake.Perfectly--“I don’t want to die,” Draco said. He tried. He didn’t hear himself say it so maybe he’d simply thought it. Maybe he was going to die right now, for the tragic irony Fate liked to flout in her stories. To die once being safe.Would he see Astoria? Could he even face her if he’d left himself bleeding out on a floor – where Scorpius found him? Draco wouldn’t, he grumbled, finding the next movement too painful, the Unseamed trying to rip his skin from his hip to his ribs.I’m not going to die. Maybe he was surrounded, maybe it was just Scorpius, Draco couldn’t tell – another memory of Astoria played off in front of his eyes.And then, Draco slept.A dream of Astoria dancing in white and Harry trying to pick him up from the fields he was laying in.Draco considered he was dead. For one, it was too dark and quiet and the pain had disappeared. In actual fact he felt quite good, indeedy. He didn’t last long, the weakness in his limbs and the fatigue – not like he’d fought to save his life, no, fatigue like a crup resting by a fire too cozy too move – made him yawn and sleep some more.His next awakening wasn’t so comfortable as the linen was too starchy and hard, the mattress lumpy. The feel good factor from before was gone and Draco scowled at the sharp lighting as his headache revived itself. Now he wasn’t too keen on the hospital gown. Where was his clothing? Looking around he could tell he was in a private room, though… Should it surprise him he was alone?No one waited in their seats to greet him, although from the look of the kind of seating they had here – Draco didn’t blame anyone he knew from forgoing sitting on those abominations. His side ached a little, nothing like what it was and Draco wondered just what dosage he was on for pain.And then a Healer dawning robes Draco had never seen before waltzed into the room, head down and reading parchment. The robes said either low ranking enough to be doing the basic rounds of all patients or someone so high up, Draco had never needed to see them before.He didn’t even look at him, not even as Draco stared. Merlin, he was away in whatever he was reading alright. So, Draco shifted – tried to as his side decided then to flare with an awful and boorish threat to tear again.“Mr. Malfoy?” The Healer startled and Draco waited for some sort of introduction but none were made. “I’ll be right back, don’t move anywhere.”Was that a joke?The man scurried away and Draco was left alone. And that’s when the quiet was interrupted with an array of noises. Shouting first, then loud, fast footsteps – someone running – and more shouting. More footsteps, more arguing, more noise.And the door burst open and Scorpius skidded in, Albus and Rose peeked in from behind. Albus seemed to have tried his best to stop Scorpius, but the taller Scorpius had easier time shrugging him off.“Dad!”“Stop yelling,” Rose hissed, though seemed to avoid all eye-contact once Draco spied her too, trying to pull Scorpius back.“Scorpius?”Well, it would seem his mother had some explaining to do. Why was Rose here too? What was going on? The last Draco remembered was the nape of his neck tingling.“Tell them the ring’s a fake.” Draco blinked. Looked down at his hands and nearly died at the sight. Certainly there was a ring, one which looked identical on his opposing hand. It wasn’t one of the rings of Celius though, Draco couldn’t feel any of the malice and regret seeping through.“It is.” Draco wondered why this was sitting on his finger, when and who had tried? It wasn’t even on the right hand. Had Quartz or one of his goons found him before, decided to slip it on and leave him for dead?“How do we know he isn’t just saying that-- My mum said--”He slipped it off quickly not liking the view even if it wasn’t real. “I’m under no spell, this is a fake. You can let Scorpius go now.” Draco waved his hand, let both Rose and Albus relax all the while the question remained: how did they know about the rings? Had Scorpius blathered when Draco had told him discretion was necessary?“Dad?” It was such a quiet, sheepish little voice that Draco could have cleared his throat again and never heard it.Scorpius was by his bedside again, hovering and wore an expression Draco wasn’t used to – he was holding his emotions in, a half-sneer and discomfort twisting to an obnoxious or near petulant attitude. He’d been told never to cry in public, where people he didn’t know might see.Albus was the first one to read the room and tugged at Rose. “Come on, I’ll tell my dad.”“I’m telling my mum first, she’s the Minister, she has to know first.”Scorpius didn’t waste any time as the door closed and he rushed to give him a hug. “I thought you were gonna leave me too,” he said into Draco’s shoulder. Wanting to say that was impossible but knowing just how close he was, Draco sighed.“I’m not.” He squeezed Scorpius arm, trying to settle him. Draco never wanted to be the one causing any form of distress to Scorpius. Never.“I kept saying it was a fake but they wouldn’t believe me.” Draco tried to keep up but it was clear whatever had occurred at the Manor involved more than just the Malfoys. Scorpius did his best to explain, tripping over words and backtracking to add in details he’d missed.“We’re the only ones who know the whole story, everyone else just knows about that cursed part. They think it’ll be everyone though not just us.” And Scorpius worried some more and Draco wanted to tell the boy to sit down, calm down, everything was fine now. “Dad, the real one’s are missing, I couldn’t find them.”“They were in my robes. Wherever those are.” Speaking of robes, he disliked these hospital gowns immensely. Where was his clothing? Had they binned them? “Didn’t I say not to return to the Manor?”“You were dying, I saw it,” Scorpius croaked and Draco relented, hugging him with one arm – the other immobilised for it was too sore on his stomach to lift any higher.“I’m sorry,” Draco said again. Perhaps it was because Rose was nearby but Scorpius refused to cry again. But he sniffled a few times, then with a sigh of relief that could have blown Draco over, he smiled. Finally, he calmed.Harry didn’t knock, he’d burst in and Scorpius whispered, “I’ll go find them. They must still be here, they have to be.”“Good idea.” Draco nodded and watched as Harry pulled up a chair. The two shared a quick hellos and goodbyes before Harry was left on his own.“How’re you feeling?”“I’ll live. How long have I been here?” Pain relief or healed, Draco couldn’t tell which, only his limbs were weak and his legs shaky whenever he tried to move them under the covers.“About two weeks. The--” Harry’s face twisted and morphed between disgust and something else. “The Unseamed thing was difficult to get rid of.”Oh. Right. He was trying to forget about that. Too curious for his own good, he wanted to see what the blasted healing spell had left. Harry wasn’t subtle in looking away as Draco hitched up the gown to check.It was quite disgusting, raw, pink skin ripped and scarred in several wave-like patterns around the location the spell had hit. Five strange white blobs sat on the edges, like a young Scorpius trying to draw a series of triangles. Giving them a prod wasn’t painful, not nearly as much as Draco would think looking at the damage.Glancing back over to Harry he saw how he was wringing his hands together, trying hard not to look.“Am I hideous now?”“No,” Harry said, that same stubborn – bullheaded – way of talking. It eased away some of the horror of his own about the damage. He wasn’t certain if a dittany or two would help but it certainly couldn’t do much worse.“Merlin, at least you’re learning.” Really, he’d expected Harry to go off on a tangent about how beauty was on the inside and even if Draco now resembled old pudding, he was still interested. Draco found it ugly, too ugly to look at for much longer and readjusted the gown.“We managed to round all of them up.” Harry seemed pleased and Draco agreed at least this was finished with – a shame he couldn’t have hexed Quartz himself.“Good.” Harry may as well have preened under the word. “Go get me some clothes, I refuse to stay in this for a day longer.” Whoever designed these had no sense of fashion or idea what was comfortable. Harry did as he was asked and if he seemed hesitant to leave Draco didn’t comment on it.Draco was awoken again, though he couldn’t be sure how much time had passed or when exactly he’d fallen asleep. A knock at the door and Ron – why was he here – wandered in.“What are you doing here?”“Hey, I literally found you.” Was Ron involved in this too? How many people knew now?“Wasn’t it Scorpius? Who found me.” He remembered hearing him.“Well, he was with me. We split up with the rest of the Malfoys, bloody hell never thought I’d see Harry and Lucius on the same side.”He was actually dead, wasn’t he? Or in some sort of alternate dimension where what Ron had just said was at all believable.“And you were there why?”“Patronus from Harry, got me an’ Hermione and Rose to come along – Albus was there alongside Scorpius. Rose was adamant on coming along too and James didn’t take no for an answer.” He sighed as he reclined a bit in the chair. “Thick as thieves those three you know.”He really didn’t want... Really didn’t. Very much would prefer anything else, honest. But it must be said, it had to be – and Ron wasn’t going to have more ammunition to say Draco was the childish or immature one. No, this was necessary for his very pride as a Malfoy who knew right from wrong and all that.“Thank you,” Draco said not hiding his discomfort. Ron grimaced as if Draco had asked him to marry him.“Yeah, let’s not do this – it’s weird.” He waved his arms around and Draco wasn’t sure if he should be relieved at that or not.“I thought you’d be rubbing it in that the Malfoys need to thank the Weasleys.” Honestly, Ron should be grateful Draco was thanking him. It wasn’t a common occurrence after all for any Malfoy to express gratitude. Really, Ron should be thanking him.“I mean sure, but joking about it-” Ron scrunched up his nose. “It’s not like everyone made it out without a scratch that day. They were definitely coming to kill you and anyone who thought to get in their way.”Quartz. He didn’t remember seeing much. But he would understand, in a weird way – instinctively or not – Draco was sure the rage which filled him would never die. If Scorpius-- “He thought I killed his son.” Ron didn’t say a word and Draco had to fight not to give him a reason, that no, he did not in fact kill Quartz’s son.“How damaged is the Manor?”“I mean, you can rebuild it. But it’s knackered, completely.”Such a grand scale battle and he’d been on the floor bleeding like livestock. “I feel like I slept through the best bit.”“You did. Scorpius is quick on the draw by the way.” How a compliment paid to someone else made Draco warm and fuzzy was always a weird one. They weren’t his achievements, he shouldn’t want to thank Ron again. “Well, I’ll let ‘mione know you’re up and awake now.”Oh. Well. He supposed since they were getting on, he may as well ask. “Ron, I’d like to talk to you about Harry.”He scoffed, looked at the ceiling like he wished it would crash down upon him. “Not you too.”“He’s not well.”“No bloody surprise there,” Ron snapped and Draco paused in his request. They really had guffed this friendship of theirs up and while Draco had no intention of fixing it – he wasn’t a mender by any stretch of the term – he was worried over that terrible magic which crawled up his arm.“At a later date, then.” When he could actually chase after Ron physically and not simply have someone walk out.“Right. Later.” Stomping off Draco was left alone. Like that. Draco settled into the bed more, not entirely sure of how to understand he’d lost two weeks of his life by sleeping it away.His solitude didn’t last long as Harry returned, clothes in tow.“Lotty picked these out. She wasn’t going to let me away with them unless I said so.” Harry arrived with a bag and Draco rubbed at his face. He couldn’t even say he’d ever thought Lotty was in danger never mind join the fray. “She may have hit one of the intruders with a cauldron, which she may have broken.”“Oh, worrying about that is she?” The image was a pleasant one and brought a smile to his face, hopefully she’d done in Quartz himself.“Scorpius tried to calm her but I think it’s made her worse.”Well, that sounded like Lotty.First matter of business was to refresh himself with a shower. He’d looked around for his wand, found it in the little cabinet next to him and spelled a series of quick, quality of life spells. Like combing his hair quickly and cleaning the awful taste out of his mouth.Daunting, the shower was only a dozen steps away but even so. Draco didn’t trust his legs which had taken form of some newborn animal, quivering and unsteady. He was grateful Harry didn’t offer his assistance, he wanted to do this on his own. Even so Harry seemed too focused on staying within arms reach.The shower did have a chair, which was a well earned rest. Perhaps whoever came up with these gowns knew the possibility of fighting with clothing – the gown was easier to remove since Draco could do so one-handed. Not so terribly designed then.When the shower was spelled on, Draco yelped. The scar throbbed as soon as it was hit with warm water.“Are you okay?”“The scar hurts.” Draco stopped the plumbing not sure if he should continue on and fight through the pain or if this would somehow have everlasting damage.“I’ll find someone.”And find someone he did. Faster than it took for Draco to reconsider and try and power through.Draco didn’t know how many incidents in his life were more embarrassing than sitting in the shower, barely covering his modesty with a towel, – an old High Society phrase if Draco had ever heard one – and having both a Healer prod at his side and having Harry anxiously wait just at the door.She looked at it and then to him. As if he was somehow interfering with her work.“It’s tender, new skin, like from a newborn. Be gentle, nothing too hot, nothing too cold. No scrubbing.”The Healer left, hopefully to learn some bedside manner.“Does it hurt a lot?” Harry asked and Draco thought on the question. He wasn’t sure he could say it hurt anything like it had before.“It’s a strange one. It burns or stings, And then-- it moves, like the Unseamed did.”“It ate your fingers,” Harry blurted out and Draco popped his head out of the stall to look at him. He didn’t need to read his mind to know that the Unseamed had freaked him out.Really, it was the only real danger to failing healing magics. Instead of a healing, repairing and soothing result it ended up consuming. Draco hadn’t cared in Hogwarts much about them and they were but a footnote of a possibility. Adult Draco cared very much with his newborn baby and ailing wife.He’d seen the pictures, both the more extensive results where teeth were made in the skins place and the teeth and skin chomped at anything like a mouth – consuming anything to heal more – and the problem remained, the Unseamed would heal the parts it would then eat again. Torturous was what one book claimed. If Draco had lost and regrown fingers, well he had to say he was glad he wasn’t conscious for it.“Are you scared to touch me now? Hideous wasn’t the right word was it? Revolting comes to mind.” The spray continued and Draco found himself shiver despite it being lukewarm. Great. Just when they were started to understand the boundaries and hang-ups of each other, this had to happen.Draco Malfoy was not a very lucky man it seemed.Tentative was what Draco would call it as Harry stepped into the bathroom fully and the door shut behind him and Draco wondered if he was right. If this was just Harry facing his fears like a good little Gryffindor.“I thought you were dead when I first saw you. There was so much blood.”“I’m alive. Very much so.” He beckoned him over with a quick motion of his head. Potter really wasn’t difficult to deal with at times. “Now, come here.”Harry was much warmer than the shower, delightful against his skin and Draco was tempted to pull the whole man in with him. The kiss they tried at the start to keep Harry away from the stray droplets but as he pulled away, Draco spied his once full grey shirt left speckled.“I can’t wash my hair one-handed,” Draco sniffed knowing it was a terrible lie. A lie which Harry didn’t have a problem pretending was fact.Whether the hospital had put in some potion into the shampoo or if Harry was just very much, very good with his hands (Draco liked to think it was a bit of both) he was lulled into a more relaxed state. Harry’s fingers running through his hair and rubbing at his scalp.“You’re like about to start purring,” Harry joked as Draco craned his neck this way and that letting Harry do as he pleased.“Is it a surprise I like being pampered and spoiled?” And he caught Harry then, looking back at him stunned because he didn’t count this as a helping hand, no he counted this as entirely affectionate – entirely to spoil and please Draco. And that’s when Draco remembered again, Harry had a strange relationship with affection in and of itself.And Draco wanted to overwhelmed him if just a little – though Draco wasn’t sure if it was ever possible to overwhelm the Harry Potter. Pulling Harry down was a new experience as Draco sat low the chair, Harry meanwhile stumbled forward a little, weight now braced on the highsides of the shower.“Close your eyes.”It was awkward to hold him with one hand, the other wouldn’t be much help right now. Thankfully, Harry did as he was told, stayed put and closed his eyes.When Draco kissed him, chaste – though Harry tried to change that – Draco let go, used his hand to keep Harry’s head still with his chin. And kissed at the side of his mouth and across his jaw and on his check and over his temple. And then that ridiculous scar, each side of it and Draco spied Harry wasn’t entirely out of the way and his skin was damp from the shower.Was Harry always this obedient if the promise of affection sat at the end?“Now who’s going to start purring?” Draco whispered into his ear and Harry slumped forward, pushed himself up and away with a huff that didn’t rid his face of its colour and Draco cackled. He was far too easy to rile.“Menace.” Harry rubbed at the damp side of his face, removing his steamed up glasses to give them a wipe with the corner of his jumper.“It’s pronounced Slytherin,” Draco laughed.“Dad!” They flinched at Scorpius shrill yell from the other room.“Time’s up, off you go.” Waving him away to go stall his son. Harry shook his head, spelled away the dampness and left the bathroom.Mumbling and mutterings from the next room told Draco at least he had time to dawdle and not rush. So, Malfoy took his time to feel better, to have the knots in his muscles and tension in his head ease with the water. Only when he was certain he could waltz back out, without pausing and alerting Scorpius to his weakness did Draco leave the bathroom. At least it was normal behaviour for him to return immediately to bed.“Dad, they aren’t there, I checked.” A surreal moment came as Draco was handed his clothing, blood drenched and foul smelling. Harry hadn’t been kidding. Double-checking some of the more subtle pockets within the robes, he found nothing. He was sure he put them in his pocket.“Well, that’s unfortunate.” He ran a hand through his hair – dried and no longer flat and lifeless after two weeks of no attention.It was too unlikely for the intruders to have slipped out of the Aurors holding cell and grab them. Looking at Harry, he seemed to think the same thing. “I’ll ask around, see if anyone was snooping about your stuff when we brought you in.” It probably hadn’t crossed Scorpius’ mind that someone might have simply seen the tattered clothing, seen the rings and then thought it was their lucky day and swiped them.He checked the clothing individually, more focused on Harry’s chatter – a nervous tic really, he obviously hadn’t been so comfortable speaking with Scorpius after snogging him in the bathroom. Then came the extra cloak, blood turning it a blotchy brown.Ah, Blaise’s. Although, as Draco followed the seam, it turned out no, not Blaise’s.PROPERTY OF T. NOTT was embroidered on the inside.Huh. Draco didn’t realise Nott was even nice enough to hand a cloak over if he was dying never mind hand it off to Blaise for-- For what?Another new face appeared at the door. What now? He’d seen more people in this short, choppy day than he did in a typical month. He dumped the clothing in the bin, no need to try and remove the stains. Impossible or not, Draco didn’t want to wear any of those articles of clothing again.This Healer seemed much more obliged to deal with Scorpius’ worry, Harry’s hovering and Draco’s scowl. Perhaps it was the experience he had? Either way he spoke very calm, and in turn the news didn’t sound too bad. Not even has he was fitted with a strange brace – upon fitting, it hurt and once the pain settled, the relief was immeasurable. He hadn’t even noticed the way his muscles were cramping and tensing to keep the scar at bay.“Here, this should help support you a little bit. Don’t try anything too strenuous, no healing spell will work till the colourations back to normal – and those fangs’ll take a few months to heal on their own.”“It won’t scar?” That seemed too unlikely.“Of course it will. This part maybe not so much.” He indicated to the red area, and Draco wondered if the old wizard could even see the white triangles through those scratched up glasses.And then Draco Malfoy was discharged and Harry bid them goodbye to search for the rings in Scorpius’ stead. Meanwhile his son seemed eager to stay here and keep Draco at the hospital.It was only when Draco was told he couldn’t apparate to the Manor safely he realised why.Ron hadn’t lied or exaggerated. Malfoy Manor was broken. Even from the outside it was a mess.“Dad?” Scorpius sounded sad and for Draco who hated this place he couldn’t reconcile the two. Not really because his childhood was a whimsical spoiled affair and by the end the Manor consumed those cherished memories too.He blinked hoping the sight would stay no matter what, that it wouldn’t return and mock him for hoping it. “I’ve wanted to burn this place to the ground for a long time.”“But why?”“Don’t worry, it’ll be rebuilt before you’ll inherit it.” Draco kicked some of the rubble about his feet. Scorpius scowled.“I’d prefer the Château.”Draco laughed. Good to know Scorpius had taste, the Château was a gem only a fine eye could catch. The Manor was a blaring horn to everyone who thought grand and affluence only in size and scope, a garish beauty of egos amassed over the years.A pop beside him didn’t alert him to the grovelling that ensued.“Lotty is sorry, Lotty was very bad--”“Lotty, he’s not mad I’m telling you.”“For your recent behaviour,” he flicked a Galleon to her, “here you are. A bonus for protecting Scorpius.” Lotty apparated away though not far enough that they couldn’t hear her exclaim how she was unworthy of such a merciful master (Lotty was the only one who would ever consider Draco capable of mercy).Chuckling they both made their way throughout the Manor. Truly Quartz was trying to take the whole building down. If Draco didn’t know the power of one Potter then having a bunch along with his own family, well. Most of the walls had some damage, either torn down completely or residual damage. Parts of the roof were down, stairs unusable and most of the windows were shattered.Draco was plenty aware Scorpius was keeping an eye on the ceilings, making a point to head into a room first.“Did Harry really fight alongside my father?” Draco wasn’t sure if Ron was being hyperbolic or not. It hurt his head to try to imagine that one.“Yeah, I mean they were arguing while doing it. Nearly turned their wands on each other I heard. Harry wanted to keep everyone alive so he could detain them and well, Grandpa wanted to murder Quartz from the moment he heard you were in Mungos.” Scorpius picked up a few stray photographs from the debris and pocketed them. He seemed more keen to give some items a quick wipe with his sleeve than spell them away – Potter’s influence no doubt.“Harry said they got everyone.”“We were scattered around for a while – looking for you, until Ron had the idea of pairing up and well, helping each other since we - Malfoys - knew the layout. I didn’t think it was so confusing, Albus kept saying it was a maze.”“You did well, Scorpius.” Trying not to seem too fond of the compliment Scorpius moved to spell some more of the damage. He didn’t do the best job though, seemingly no longer as anxious to leave Draco’s side and needing the excuse.The question remained in the air, though Draco wasn’t entirely sure he could answer it. Where was he going to sleep now?“Looks like I’ll have to ask a favour of Harry again.”Sadly, unlike what Draco would much prefer – to start from scratch and make the Manor look different, the laws were clear. He wasn’t allowed to simply demolish it, even if he owned the blasted thing – another Twenty-Eight interference. Refurbishment, restoring it was all Draco would be allowed to do, add on a room here or there. But to remove the dungeons? Why were the pureblooded families so paranoid on keeping a legacy; Draco couldn’t understand that one.An old law that stopped a newly married spouse from wrecking another house from the inside out.“Scorpius go back and tell Harry I need a favour and bring him here. I don’t feel up to apparating again just yet.” Almost a refusal, Scorpius didn’t do as he was instructed right away.Draco made his way out, not wanting to make Scorpius fret.“Don’t go inside,” Scorpius said as he apparated away and Draco had to snort at the gall of the boy. When did he get so cheeky?Probably having his father almost die didn’t help. The garden was a mess if only because of collateral damages from the house. A column from the upper floors had been thrown, it seemed, and Draco perched on it.How much was this going to cost him now? To restore the building he held no love for whatsoever? Maybe Hermione might let this fall under reconstruction of British Historical Sites? She probably won’t take too kindly at that suggestion. Seemed cruel, considering.Malfoy Vaults it was. If the goblins weren't so keen on giving interest, they’d be skint centuries ago.Who apparated next to him wasn’t who Draco expected.“Heard you were out,” Blaise didn’t sound too pleased at that revelation, “I take it that means you’re out of the woods and all that?” Turning to look at the once proud Manor made Draco squirm. Hating the blasted place and letting people see it like this were two very different beasts.Draco hummed, didn’t want to say anything a nearby pixie might use against him. “Why did you have Nott’s cloak?”“I did?” Blaise, bless him, tried his best to look confused but he wasn’t buying it. All Slytherins in their year knew how petty and possessive Nott was over his things. Now why would Blaise steal a cloak? They were a little old to be playing those sort of pranks on each other. Unless--“The rumours of you and Pansy came out quite quickly, didn’t they?” Which from the perspective of the secretive Twenty-Eight, was a feat, a terrible feat which Blaise should loathe and try and stop. “And Nott didn’t seem at all worried over what that’d say about him. In fact I’m pretty sure his words were along the lines of: ‘Pansy could be shagged by a centaur for all I care’, that’s an odd thing to say about your wife involved in scandal. Wouldn’t you say so?”“Never been married.” Dusting off the larger debris, Blaise sat down on the space beside him.“Have you ever shagged Pansy? Or are you shagging both of them?” In the distance, peacocks yelled and the wind chilled him as Blaise stared off into space.Out of all the emotions, Draco expected anger, some sort of denial. A twist and a lie to try and get out of being caught. But Blaise sighed deeply and slouched forward, leaning his head on his hands and muttering the words, “I’ve never shagged Pansy, never even thought about it.”“I’d heard Nott was with another man – I didn’t expect it to be you--” Draco understood then, impressed. “--because the rumour about you and Pansy was out already. That was fairly well played.” Another expectation diverted as Blaise didn’t start gloating or bragging. “Blaise? What’s going on with you, you’ve been acting odd for a while now.”“Nott and I were going to leave and be done with it all.”“Nott was?” They were talking about Theodore weren’t they? People weren’t pampered as much as Malfoy were but Notts were a close second. To leave it all wasn’t what Draco considered even possible for Theo never mind characteristic and agreed upon.“Do you ever wonder why your parents let you and Astoria marry?”“That was a long time ago.” Draco hadn’t really spoken much about it. Never to Blaise, the details were out in the rumour mills of the world but Draco never confirmed or denied them. “I threatened to walk away if they didn’t allow it.”Funnily enough, Astoria had gushed over it. As if Draco’s tantrum was worth so much more and yet his parents had crumbled fast. He hadn’t really considered anything other than being with her. Whether that was in a tiny shoe-box of a flat or in the Manor.“What if Astoria refused to marry you if you were poor?”“That wasn’t Astoria.” Oh. “Did Nott need money?”Blaise laughed, “Mum’d already handed me the Vault key. Do you know what the Notts did?”They shouldn’t be able to do anything. Handing over the Vault key was as good as inheriting. But Ms. Zabini was a crafty one, much more than Draco could boast and the Notts were well versed in laws and loopholes than most. If neither wanted their only child to run off together, there wasn’t much Blaise could do. Run off and be poor, Draco supposed.“There’s a caveat. Like if I’m not married or-- what’d you think happens to your Vault key if Scorpius died after you gave him the key?” This line of questioning made him vastly more uncomfortable than the ache in his chilled ears and nose. But Blaise didn’t demand an answer let the question hang there and for Draco to ruminate on it.“It returns to my parents on the notion they could give it to another sibling.” Back when the older families had larger broods, children upon children with the only deterrent being money to pay for the childcare, it helped to keep the black-sheep inheriting anything.“To your father, you mean. What’d you think happens if your father’s dead too?”“Extended family, Teddy probably would claim it.” He had seen his cousin once or twice, in passing but they’d never formally been introduced. Supposedly, he guessed it was his mother and her sister’s plan for them never to meet. Whatever their reasoning, Draco didn’t interfere.“We were going to disappear, use Pansy’s charity money to leave and never come back. But I don’t know, Nott didn’t want to leave Pansy in his home.”Of course not. Theodore Nott’s possessions were his and his alone.“Is there anything you can do?”“Other than go out of my way to kill all my other relatives you mean and be the head of the family?” Blaise scoffed, rubbed his face and for the first time Blaise didn’t look so well-put together. “We were gonna pretend Nott got kidnapped, killed – something big enough for the papers. But the Vault Key. We wouldn’t be able to use ‘em then. There is one way, I suppose.” Rubbing at his neck, he slid off the column and shrugged with one shoulder. “If you were in this situation, would you do whatever it takes?”“To have Nott?” Draco joked but the scowl that formed on Blaise’s face was intense enough to realise this wasn’t the time to ease any tension. “If I had to fight for someone? I suppose. If it was Astoria--” It wasn’t only her face that popped into his head then. “If I could, I would. Maybe not whatever it takes, I don’t think I could kill – that I doubt any would ask of me – but it’d be a close thing. Love isn’t eternal no matter what the poets like to say, I’ve already love and lost one after all.”Confusion was so common to that statement. To say he still loved the dead woman as if her being in the ground should sever all connection, all memories and any affection. “You still love her? I thought you and Potter were shacking up.”Grimacing at the fact Blaise might have seen or caught some of Potter’s less than subtle looks, Draco tried not to seem put out at that. Just answer the question as if he didn’t want the rest of the column to launch itself at his head and end this conversation.He supposed the bards liked to talk about one loves too, that Draco should only love one person at a time and when death came to forget and move on. But it was easier said than done. “I don’t love her any less if that’s what you’re asking.” What he felt for Harry was different but not inferior, simply different.Really, Draco didn’t like to think of the parallels between them. For Harry to free him from a life in prison and for it to result in him seeing Astoria. And Astoria had chipped away most of the pompous Muggle-hating ideals which had surrounded him. Now, Astoria was gone and he was able to go to the bloody Muggle Zoo with Potter.Life was weird; he’d needed one for the other.“Hey, sorry.”That had Draco laugh. “Your healing is crap, I’m aware.” And then Blaise turned his wand on him.Not waking up in a field with his half-destroyed house was less alarming than the shouldering weight of a thousand voices and a compulsion to beg for the ring off his finger. Dizziness overtaking him, Draco tried and failed to push himself up off the couch.“Blaise?” He couldn’t not look at his finger, the ring glowing and swirling its black and blue stone. Standing by the Floo, Blaise stared into the blackened ash of the fireplace and Draco was dazed. The place still smelt like a bakery.The nauseating voices begging someone else to stop, phantoms of the past made it difficult to hear if Blaise replied.“I thought we were friends.” This hurt, nearly too much because Harry had been right and-- “I defended you,” Draco hissed as he sat up. Desperately he tried to hex him but no matter how much he flexed his hands, was sure he could feel the tendons and muscles shift under his skin and yet they didn’t move.How? Why?“Why are you doing this?” And in his voice he could hear hundreds more asking the same questions, male and female but all Malfoys. Some sounded defeated others enraged and Draco didn’t know how to feel as they mixed and bled into his head.“Being a widower, with a kid, being a part of the Twenty-Eight, do you know how valuable that is?”“If I was so valuable why did you keep trying to kill me?”That, that there was it. It hurt, too much nearly to comprehend it.“I didn’t, I know it looks like that but-- but it was Moran and he was always a fucking idiot. I swear,” Blaise sounded like he was pleading, “I told him to go in and hex you and he comes back saying he saw you turn into an owl and so he tried to kill you because the idiot thought you were the type to run away and never show yourself again. I did spend all night on curing that curse, I did.”Was Draco supposed to thank him?“You want my forgiveness?” Draco was sick, not in the weak and queasy fainting spell sort of way. No, he was burning, sick and disgusted and he wanted Blaise to melt where he stood. “Now? While you take my freewill away?”“I’m not all that valuable in this world, Draco. But you are.”What kind of maddening, sickeningly pathetic thing to even say.To say that to Draco Malfoy who’d walked through Diagon Alley and been spat at? Had his only child thought to be evil incarnate? To have his wife die and yet no one offer their condolences only their sneering glee?“You offer every other family to marry into one of the oldest families in Britain and no one even has to worry about producing an heir. You can easily change it, with the allies you’ve made for Granger, this’ll be simple. Once we change the inheritance rules, Nott and I can disappear. You won’t hear anything from us again.”Draco was hung up on one word. A word that made him want to cry and dry-heave all at once. How could Blaise suggest that? “You’re going to make me marry someone?” His words came out feeble and fragile. To talk about Astoria so freely before, and now this? To be passed to the highest bidder for Nott--For bloody Nott to have a nice life with Blaise. Because Nott couldn’t live without his niceties and Blaise was too dumb to realise a lost cause.Really? Was this all his life was stolen for?“I promise, you’ll be fine. I promise you won’t marry someone else. It’s just a bit, just a hook, to get each and everyone of those hypocrites to bite.” And Blaise was right. They all would bite at the chance. Even though his past was always a sticking point for people, since having been seen with Hermione and Harry outside and kept his word – a notion he wasn’t sure his father accomplished with such gusto – marrying him would be simple.A dating life filled with love or being cherished was a difficult road for Draco. But to the Twenty-Eight they’d snap up the chance to intertwine more favours, more money. The eventual access to the Malfoy Vault; because the Twenty-Eight never thought for just their generation but the next and the one after that and the one after that.And Draco couldn’t stop it, not even as the ring started to whisper warnings and cries of his ancestors.“Nott told me to watch out for you, that you’d take the rings and use them. He told me to run. I imagine he knows I’m not the merciful type.” As soon as his body would listen to him, he was going to hurt Blaise. Very, very much. Never mind an Unseamed, never mind an Unforgivable he’d unleash everything.How dare he pose as a friend – his only friend – and turn around and do this.“First things first and look, I’m sorry. But you have to--” Blaise for once seemed unwilling to say the next part of that sentence. The rings were nice enough to transmit it, Harry’s face flickered in his head.“Why?” Breaking up with Harry wasn’t the issue, it was his excuse, the words he’d say were already in his head in horrifying clarity as if he truly had held them for an age.“I can’t let anyone know you’re not you and Potter’s too close. The contracts’ll be void if anyone suspects you’re not acting like yourself. Just until the legislation comes in and lets me keep my money and--”“That could take years, stop acting as if you give a damn what I think.”The letter he wrote to Harry informing him of their time together was officially over – Draco had had fun but that was all it was and Harry should make sure to have everything out of the Manor and never try to apparate inside again as he would be removed soon from the wards making it impossible to see him again.Draco found his body not his own, writing thoughts he’d never once considered, never about Harry being jotted down all because Blaise thought Draco breaking up with Potter would contain it.Just fun.Ha.He sneered at the word as he wrote it, fun. What fun was there to be had when he’d been too anxious over the death-threats. Draco was told to shut up and he did, his mind silent, but still stewing in his own fury that flared in his chest. The Floo roared to life and out stepped Nott himself.Blaise seemed chirpier but Draco scowled, made sure to keep the ring on show. His warning hadn’t been listened to and it wasn’t going to get any better anytime soon.Theodore Nott wasn’t an idiot, as much as he wasn’t very good at reading people. Much better suited to mechanical and bits and bobs instead of anything that might misunderstand his resting face wasn’t an immediate threat.Blaise scuttled away, a little too obedient and quiet from what Draco was used to. He hissed towards Theo who was making it obvious he didn’t want to engage. “You have to get the ring off him.” Nothing. “If not for my sake for his.”“What are you talking about?” Theo was guarded but thankfully listening.“The longer these are on the less of a Will I might have but the more inclined Blaise will be to order that Will around.”“So?”“The longer these are on us, the more likely it is for Blaise to focus on me--” Theodore’s affect changed then, something terribly akin to jealousy crossed his face, so Draco decided to run with that, “--and it will get to the point he will consider hurting me better than whatever you can provide.”“I warned you. This is your fault.” Was all he said and left the room too. Unfortunately Draco couldn’t leave his seat even as his leg cramped. This was awful. This was terrible and Draco closed his eyes, tried to put up some walls, some maze of mind so he could protect himself.The whispers never stopped, but they lulled quietest when Blaise was further away. Like an alarm alerting to a thief, they screamed and howled once he started to speak and Draco’s Will was taken from him again.“You have a lot of Declarations of Intentions to write, I suggest you start now.” Draco spied what Blaise had taken from his home. Parchment, seal of Malfoy at the top corner, and ink were set up and Draco followed the command without much resistance.He wrote the first and Blaise accepted it without hesitation. And on the fifth, Blaise scolded him for not being neat enough. And the tenth, Blaise started to rant to Theo – confused as he too could see the parchment were near copies of each other – how Draco was trying to make a fool of him.“Don’t hit him, Blaise.” Theo spoke up as Draco’s hand cramped over yet another rewrite. “I mean it.”“He’s annoying me. Was he as annoying as this in Hogwarts?”“How so?” Theo challenged and Blaise grumbled, apologised said he was simply stressing. And Draco looked to Theo and wondered if he was going to deny the strength of the Rings of Celius too.The worst came when a new piece of parchment was sent down and Draco started to write the same letter. This time to the Greengrasses and Draco wanted to pretend everything was still under control, like he had some semblance of pride left. Like his Will hadn’t been taken but even as he wrote, his hand trembled. He wanted to be sick.“Daphne isn’t your sister-in-law these days.”“Fuck off, I’m not--” And his rant was cut off with a silent command and Draco held back the stinging in his eyes.“Blaise, we don’t need everyone to accept. Doubt she’d marry him anyway, the Greengrasses are already part of the Malfoys.” Scorpius was to inherit, if Daphne had no children, a grand sum from their combined Vaults. Theo’s stare was as humiliating as Blaise’s disregard.Were we ever friends? He asked in his head, had a list of insults and retorts directed at Blaise.“He just needs to write the bloody thing,” Blaise snapped and Theodore snarled, tossed the Intent to Marry the Greengrasses off the table, disintegrated it in a show of defiance and Draco couldn’t say he wasn’t grateful. But in the end, Draco could feel it, see it in the ring as it darkened more and more. Blaise was losing it and so was he.Draco was forever glad he hadn’t actually handed the Vault key off to Scorpius, as much as he was allowed to remove whatever he liked – it was a naissance of power one which would mean Scorpius was safe from any Galleon-chasers eager to marry into money.“What are you--”“Take the rings off you’re already acting fucking weird. I’ve told you, this is too much.”Blaise just threw himself on the couch. “I’m fine. I’m just annoyed because Malfoy is.”Sure, blame him. Theo looked at him again, Draco couldn’t roll his eyes and say anything against Blaise so he could only hope Theo wasn’t so easily led.“What’s so bad at what we have now?” If anything, Blaise got angrier the more Theo questioned him and the more Blaise scowled and complained, the more Theo asked the same questions.“Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve got a weird look on your face.”“What’s that supposed to mean? I’m fine.”“Just take it off for a second.”Draco didn’t understand why but the ring didn’t speak for very long, or loudly when Nott was around. The quiet was nice. None of the notes or journals Draco dug around for clues on their inner workings had ever said they waned in power or control. He didn’t know if that was beneficial at all since he still couldn’t refuse anything Blaise so much as had a fleeting desire for. At the beginning, Draco sought to destroy them and had tried repeatedly and yet all attempts failed.And then he was sent to bed like he was a child. Sleeping wasn’t what he did because he hadn’t specifically been ordered to, no he stayed awake trying all manners of ways to remove the ring.He pointed his wand at his hand.Telling Scorpius to remove his hand and not being prepared to do the same was too much like Draco’s own father. No, he wasn’t going to be Blaise’s thrall.Just breathe. Just stay calm. He was just going to blow up his hand. Nothing to worry or fret over, nothing to alert Blaise over.What if it worked?What if it worked too well?Well, it was better than this, being hidden away and being married off to serve some agenda.Bugger.Closing his eyes he tried not to panic at the idea of being a squib, of no longer having magic in his life.Was there really no other way?And no spell came, no matter how much Draco commanded, pleaded with his own magic to respond. The ring swirled and stayed on his finger. Unharmed without so much as a scratch, not even when Draco picked up what seemed like an antique and he’d raised it above his head and all put stopped when it came too close.Bugger.“Bugger.”What was an immediate was the horror as ring claiming he needed to see to his husband – and Draco halted that thought then.He utterly refused.Completely refused.But his body got up and plodded to Blaise’s room anyway like it wasn’t an issue, even if Draco was clawing at every little thing in his head to try and force his body to stop. When he knocked on the bedroom door, he wanted to knock his head against it – several times, just to stop this madness – and Blaise was equally irked at his appearance.“Just send him back, Blaise,” Theo said from somewhere in the room. But Blaise gripped at the door and Draco didn’t recognise this man at all. He lacked all fun and cheeky flair. Only his loathing reminded him, oddly, of his father watching him like a bug.“No, he’s been driving me nuts since he got here.”Draco wasn’t sure he’d ever been punched so hard he thought his jaw would fall off. “Stop it.” But Blaise just commanded him to stand up and take another one. So he did.“Blaise!” Theo grabbed at his arm, turned him around and looked terrified for a moment. All while Blaise shook his head and sent Draco back.“What are you doing?”Draco stopped being aware then. Two days or twenty, he wasn’t certain how long he spent in Blaise’s home. All he knew was, sometimes, he awoke and was sore and wanted to kill Blaise. And others he heard the voices of the rings and that was it – he saw nothing, just walked to where the voices told him. Didn’t think because the voices didn’t tell him what to think. It was easy.Why did he resist this way of living before?Nothing to worry about, nothing to think about.Draco would sometimes in horror, realise these weren’t his feelings at all.And Blaise had returned that Stinging Hex on his hands several times over and Draco never pulled back or flinched at the on coming spell. Mind racing and Will shaking because his intent to keep living wasn’t going anywhere no matter how much the voices in the rings told him he wanted to give up and follow on. Whenever Theo was around, then Draco could think because then Blaise was distracted enough not to bark orders.“Blaise! Enough. You’re not controlling anything, take it off.” Theo wasn’t a constant fixture in Blaise’s house and Draco wondered if he had been asked about Draco’s disappearance. Defending him didn’t make much sense otherwise. But here Nott was standing with his own wand ready to duel Blaise.The mishmash of emotion in Draco’s head was nearly enough to make him pass out. His own anger seemed indistinguishable from Blaise’s, was he mad at Nott? Was Blaise? Whose emotions were these?“Step out of the way.” Theo didn’t move. But Blaise did, he moved over to yank Draco to his feet though is attention never left Nott, not once. “You don’t mind, do you? Me telling everyone I’m shagging Pansy. Does it ever bother you? Does it?” He snarled at Draco then as if he was the cause of Nott’s behaviour, “Why don’t we go tell Potter his little assumption was right--”“For fuck’s sake Blaise, listen to yourself. I told you the rings are making you stupid. How is this even remotely what we talked about?”But Theo didn’t stop him, Draco groaned at the apparation and for second, Draco didn’t know where he was. The Manor was back, looking much like its destruction had been a dream. But Blaise manhandled him closer, ended up steering him around with a frightful grip on his hair that had Draco twist and slouch.Draco was going to be sick. He didn’t want to break up with Harry, he didn’t want to say anything that could hurt him and most certainly he didn’t want the idea he had lied and had been sleeping with Blaise to be burnt into his head.“Don’t dare hurt Scorpius,” Draco fought to snarl. He was trying to keep focussed enough to refuse, but no matter how strong he thought his defences the rings bypassed it. All he could hope for was to resist up until the command.“Oi Potter, you hear me?” Blaise called out into the Manor but was wise enough not to step inside its influence. “Hush, or I will make you do it.” He threw a curse at the Manor, and Draco flinched at the alert.Seeing himself taken hostage wasn’t the issue, he wasn’t entirely against Blaise acting the fool and provoking Harry.“I know you’re on the wards, you shit!”Draco wasn’t counting it as convenient that when Harry did show up it was with Albus and Scorpius by his side. The three were ready for what seemed like a fight wands already drawn.“Potter, there you are! I’m sorry to let you know you were right, we’ve been totally shagging – might want to cover your ears there, Scorp.”Scorpius grimaced, not sure how to take the news. All the while Albus side-eyed his father, confused at why this was even being announced.Harry didn’t waver, of course he bloody didn’t. Maybe it was the expression or maybe Draco was exhausted and tired like he had been before decades ago and his last hope of freedom lay at Harry’s feet. Scorpius seemed to reground himself at Harry’s calm demeanour.“Don’t believe you, Blaise. I might if you take the rings off.” Draco laughed, at least in his head he cackled desperately relieved at Harry’s loyalty not to throw him away at the first hint of danger. Had he ever believed the letter? That was… comforting.“Oi, tell them--” Draco didn’t want to speak even as the words were coming out of his mouth.“Don’t bother, I won’t believe it.”“You probably think you have me outnumbered.” No. Blaise let go, and Draco heard the thundering order in his head. No, no, no. No. Absolutely not.“Don’t do this, Blaise.” Draco panicked as he pointed his wand towards his son. The first tactic to try and stop was to shut his eyes but even then, even this much he couldn’t control and Draco saw Scorpius blanch.“Dad. It’s-- It’s okay.” To say Scorpius was ready to duel him wasn’t even in the realm of possibility. If Draco duelled Scorpius his son would die.“Take whatever opening you have,” Draco said not liking the coldness in his voice. Albus stood by Scorpius side, uncertainty all over their faces. He’d kill Albus too. Maybe together they’d manage to stay alive until Harry could deal with him. Was Blaise expecting to defeat Harry? Or was he counting on him being distracted enough? Harry seemed conflicted too, eyes on Blaise in a manner more vengeful than heroic.“E-Expelliarmus!” He could hear Scorpius’ panic at casting the first spell, even if anyone proclaimed it as a bold or brave move, it didn’t matter. Because it wasn’t so easy."Repello.” Draco tilted his head, watched the spell hit the wall and voice colder than before, he said, “You’re going to die if that’s it. You and Albus should leave.” Albus yanked Scorpius over to whisper in his ear, hurried and panicked Scorpius nodded. The two of them cast together.“Immobulus.”“Incarcerous.”Though it didn’t matter as Draco made the spells wither in the air. “Salvio Hexia.” Even his fight against Quartz, he didn’t feel bloodlust, a command and a promise to kill. Draco never wanted to kill anyone, never, never again. Every single second he had his wand raised and pointed at Scorpius, the louder he cried out for Blaise to stop. Whether Blaise didn’t hear, or the rings didn’t pass it on, Draco didn’t care.He didn’t want to do this and no matter how much he tried, his body moved against his Will like watching a movie, unable to interfere. “The house can burn, the Vaults can empty but don’t stay here and end up dead, I couldn’t handle it Scorpius. Leave.”Draco’s words only managed to make Scorpius falter more but not leave – a dangerous combination and one he had to blame on the ring and its manipulating as it wormed its way into his head.“I’ll handle Draco, you two keep Blaise on his toes. Just remember, apparate away if you need to.”At least his son wasn’t going to die, Harry had more of a chance to defeat him and Scorpius and Albus could defeat Blaise. Draco never wanted to lose a duel before.“Dad--” Whatever Albus was going to ask was cut off as Scorpius’ attention went to Blaise who didn’t seem to care about the idea he’d have to deal with two.“I trusted you,” Scorpius snarled, wand raising.“Sounds like you’re projecting, did you finally get it was your fault this was even possible?”It wasn’t just Scorpius who flinched, Draco did too because he knew too. If Scorpius hadn’t opened up to Blaise, didn’t allow him such easy access to the Manor then It was probable Blaise never would have managed to find the Rings of Celius. And when Scorpius turned to see if Draco would reject what he was saying, well, Draco wouldn’t even if he wasn’t under the spell of agreeing with whatever Blaise wished. If Draco was lucky, Scorpius would take his silence as Blaise keeping him quiet and look no further into it.“Ignore him,” Albus said firm and much like Harry was, unyielding to hear whatever Blaise had to say.“What’re you waiting for?” Blaise snapped and it started. When Voldemort taught him to use the Unforgivable curses, Draco always believed he’d never use them again. And yet again, he was firing them at Harry.Why was Harry only defending, not trying to disarm him or return his own spells it gnawed his nerves. The more Harry repelled and dodged away, the further they went from the others.Wherever Blaise was didn’t matter as much as the constant urge to kill Harry sang in his head and made it difficult to think. A surge of adrenaline would remind him to hurry up, and he’d conjure up whatever offensive spell he could and aimed it at Harry.No, no, no, he didn’t want to do this. He wanted to cry out because was this life now? To try and hurt the people he cared for? Hearing Scorpius and Albus duel Blaise was one nervous breakdown after the other whenever he didn’t hear Scorpius’ voice. Please be okay. Please be okay. Don’t die.“Harry.” Explaining wasn’t allowed, Blaise had shut him out as much as he could and Draco whimpered.“I know. Least this way, you aren’t hurting Albus or Scorpius accidentally,” Harry said, trying to smile through this mess. (Thank you). Bloody hell – he would kiss this man if he could.“Sectumsempra!” He didn’t wait to see the air shift, Harry apparated away. Being alone in this hallway didn’t afford Draco much time to think. A pop behind him was his only warning and as he turned around, readying Finite Incantatem -- Harry was just a split second faster.“Rennervate.” The spell whirled in front of him and Draco was glad to see it fail as his own met it, close enough to dry his eyes. He was disappointed it failed too. Someone just knock him out again. Let him sleep this one away.Again and again, Harry stayed as non-lethal as he could and Draco fired everything he knew, everything that made his insides squirm and his mind race at the magic he also didn’t know – the spells from before. Harry didn’t stop trying, didn’t stop trying to talk to him and Draco kept saying whatever Blaise wanted him to.“Why did I ever consider you enough? Leave, just leave.”That changed how fast Harry casted, how irate his magic felt over Draco’s skin.“Incarcerous,” Harry yelled and Draco stumbled, struggled, fought even as his wrists rubbed raw against the rope. He backed away at the approaching Harry, felt his back hit the wall and scowled. Defeated. (Thankfully).“Looks like I’m taking your wand again.” Draco didn’t let it go easily but with his hands pushed together even his grip onto it wasn’t enough to stop Harry from pocketing it.“Listen.” Harry tried to tug the ring off his finger but it didn’t budge, he wasn’t listening at all. “Listen,” he hissed, rested his head against Harry’s shoulder feeling sick all of a sudden. Unarmed and bound, Draco didn’t stop urging Harry to leave him. “Check on Scorpius, make sure he’s okay. Please, Harry. He has to be okay.”Get out, get out Blaise needed him to defeat Harry. Squirming and twisting his hands found no give in the bindings. Unless--“Harry,” he murmured, “loosen these, would you?”Circe, if Potter so much as believed for a second Draco should be let go because he asked nicely then he was dumber than Blaise trying to keep his own sanity. The issue Harry considered it, argument with himself clear on his face.Clasping his hands over Draco’s he dragged him away. “No. Stay put.” Draco fought him every step, managing only to waste Harry’s time.“I can’t stay put you arse, I’m literally incapable of ignoring Blaise’s wishes--” Harry shoved him hard onto the floor and the ropes circled around one of the columns.“Stay.” Harry prodded him with a finger to his forehead.“I will kill you, Potter. Give me my wand back, I swear you--”“Stay.”Draco howled in frustration, every curse he knew thrown at his back as Harry left. Damn it. Pulling and trying to undo the scolding by Blaise, Draco hissed as the rope burned his skin.How foolish, how could he ever face Blaise again--How stupid, Draco wouldn’t worry over--He heard someone running, step heavy and they passed the door fast. Draco blinked, what, was that Theo? He slowed, backtracked, breathing heavy. “Draco? Tell me Blaise isn’t duelling.” Theo rushed in to untie him.“He is. My son.” Draco bit out even as Nott disintegrated the ropes around him and pulled him up to his feet – a stab in his side made Draco push him away – he couldn’t tell if he was angry at that or not. Free and ready to do Blaise’s bidding again.“Bugger,” Theo muttered. “Do you have your wand?”“No.”Theo didn’t wait for an answer this time and rushed away, Draco lagging behind. Turning back to urge him on, Theo stopped.“You’re bleeding.”“Harry didn’t hit me once.” He touched his side and his stomach gurgled and his skin flinched. “Damn it.” The Unseamed wasn’t gone, it had reopened and Draco didn’t know how long he had till it grew to the point he wouldn’t manage to walk. So, far it was a stitch, a constant but bearable pain.“Come on, hurry up.” Theo rounded to grab his arm and hoist him up a little more. The walking was faster but every jostle made the ache deeper.Rounding the corner, Draco saw Harry and Blaise but saw no sign of his son or Albus. Neither were lying on the floor, no blood or pools to indicate they were hurt. Setting him against the wall, finally being left to fend for himself, Theo had his wand out but wasn’t aiming it at either Harry or Blaise. Not yet anyway.Harry became overly wary then. “Theo, what are you doing here?”“Theo!”Urgh, feeling Blaise’s emotions sohot through him and – Draco didn’t need to feel like about Theodore Nott.“I didn’t want you to do this in the first place,” Theodore scowled which made his face a thousand times more unattractive. “This is-- this is crazy, Blaise. Do you even remember why you did this in the first place? Blaise, think. Stop listening to whatever you’re hearing.”Hearing Blaise’s rants – and it was only when Blaise grimaced and rubbed his face did Draco realise these weren’t Blaise’s ranting thoughts either.“It’s for you.” Blaise didn’t lower his wand but Theodore did manage a few more steps closer.“Take the ring off, please.”Ew. Draco had never heard Nott say please in his life, never mind in such a pathetic manner. Blaise sent him a glare and Draco wilted, he’d think nothing more of this. But thinking of nothing wasn’t easy.Not when Blaise deserved a curse in the back.“I don’t even know what--” Blaise scratched at his head and Draco shuddered at the avalanche of hate the rings unloaded then. Every thought Draco had for Blaise seemed childish in comparison. Retching, Draco couldn’t stop how utterly terrified, how cold and desperate the voices made him. “I just wanted him to listen to me for once, he wouldn’t listen.”“Blaise, you’re freaking me out. Why are you duelling anyone, what does this achieve? You’re smarter than this.” Another few paces and again, Theo put himself in front of someone else. Harry on the other hand seemed concerned Draco was free.“This is all for you,” Blaise sounded distant and Draco could feel why. He was pulling away, noticing how Theo was not eager to join the duel. What could Draco do, as he hung off the wall and begged the burn in his side to stop.He couldn’t keep standing right now, not with so little energy, the commands were slowing as Blaise was only interested in Nott.“Stupefy.” Theo grabbed onto Blaise before he hit the ground as he set him down, immediately he pulled the ring off his finger. And as he did, Draco’s legs buckled under him as he panicked to pull his own off in time. It was Harry who lowered his wand and came over to check to see if he was well.Some more blood seeped through and Draco didn’t miss how Harry seemed guilty over it. “The ring,” Draco hissed and they turned to see Nott twirl it in between his fingers, curious as Nott usually was when he found anything new.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Hand it over,” Harry commanded but Theo dismissed him. Closing his eyes, Draco relished in the silence. Was the world always this silent? “Choose. I’ll help you destroy them and you let us go or I’ll take the ring with me.” “Harry,” Draco said, lulled too calm for what was going on. Still he wasn’t willing to have this overhanging as his legacy. What stopped Blaise and Nott returning and trying again? What stopped Nott lying right now? What if, once Draco passed and Scorpius was old this choice here, this was what might put a torturous end to his son. He wouldn’t even be there to protect him. “If I help destroy them, are we good?”“It doesn’t work like that, Blaise is a murderer.” Draco would have agreed allowing the two to leave was a ridiculous notion. If the rings weren’t part of the equation, Draco would be demanding them to Azkaban. Draco’s ring whispered as it sat on his palm. ‘Please? Please? You have to listen. I can help. You just have to listen.’ It said, a few more voices scratching up his arm. He dropped it, rattling onto the floor and Draco forgot there were other people in the room. The silence was deafening and his eardrums ached. Everything was just too quiet. “Wasn’t talking to you, Potter.” Draco fought against going back into the darkness. Lethargic and unfocussed, Draco stared at Blaise, who stayed unmoving on the floor. “I don’t care much for letting Blaise go.” He’d raised his wand against his son – forced Draco to do the same. How could Theo ask as if Blaise could be gifted any mercy? Nott was having a laugh. Letting them go wasn’t what Draco wanted either. “Take him and the ring, I don’t want to be involved in this further.”“You’re already involved,” Harry parroted back and Draco couldn’t see how this was the end. How Theo was going to bargain his way out of this and use Blaise as a chip. “He did this for you.” Draco couldn’t understand, didn’t understand. Nott knew, always had, about Blaise’s plan and now he claimed this? To be uninvolved? While he watched him be at Blaise’s beck and call. “As if I’d ask for this.” Disgust, that was what Nott looked at Blaise with, such a viciousness upon his face and Draco’s pride couldn’t take it. How had Blaise ever decided to sacrifice everything – including their friendship – was it even real – for Nott? This Theodore Nott? Or had Blaise simply kept him close because Draco was ‘valuable’? “Destroy them and I won’t kill you on sight.” Harry objected but Draco didn’t need to bother to convince him. The rings needed destroyed, now. Before Blaise woke up and thought he could have another go. Or Theo thought it better to escape with one of the pair and sell it off. “Are we doing this or not?”“First, I’m taking Blaise in--”“So you can return with more Aurors? I wasn’t born yesterday. We’re doing this now so no one changes their minds.” Nott headed for the garden giving a final look at Blaise before leaving. “You’ve got a minute before I leave with the damned ring.” “Where’s the other two?” Draco hadn’t seen much of them but surely it meant only good – Scorpius and Albus had taken the advice to leave, unharmed. Harry began calling on Albus and Scorpius to reappear. Wherever they were hidden before couldn’t have been too far away as they apparated back. Draco nearly died at the sight of his son popping back and honing on the sight of blood on his clothing.“Dad?”Scorpius was safe. Draco forced himself up on his shaky legs as his son marched over. He’d pointed his wand towards him – he-- “Scorpius, I’m so s--” Draco didn’t manage his apology as Scorpius crushed the breath from his lungs. “You didn’t mean it, I know you didn’t,” he muttered constantly, nearly upset but keeping it together from relief alone. “Are you okay? Are you sure?” Double checking his son’s well-being, he noted bruises across his face and a sleeve was ripped from the shoulder down. The blood was dried, didn’t seem to have any open wounds on him and Draco relaxed. Meanwhile, Albus ducked under Harry who tried to ruffle at his crazy head of hair. “Are you sure about this, Draco? We could try and--”“Theo knows the ring’s worth, he’s not letting it go and I don’t want, can’t, risk this again.” For a second, Draco was sure Harry was going to argue, refute his desperation as also being foolish. “Destroy them, for good.” Please was the word Draco didn't say but Harry seemed to hear it loud and clear. Harry was used to calling out orders, that much was obvious. “Albus, you come with me. We’re destroying the rings right now. Keep your eye on Theo. Scorpius stay with your dad.” Deviating, Albus scooped up the one on the floor and nodded. Hurried his father out into the garden ‘just in case’ Nott decided against his plan on fleeing with Blaise. Scorpius and Draco stayed indoors, Blaise on the ground ignored. “Will they be able to destroy them?” he asked, anxious and jittering beside him. It was difficult to allow anyone else near them, even Draco had the urge to rush after Harry and have them do it in front of him just to make sure nothing else went wrong. If the Rings of Celius were anything like other Dark Artefacts, it wouldn’t be a good idea to put the blood it wanted too near as it was destroyed. Scorpius was in enough danger but he couldn’t be convinced to leave entirely. “Let’s hope so.” Draco grumbled and touched at his side. The burn was starting again.What Draco could only wish for was Theo and Blaise weren’t as smart as they assumed and the Aurors would catch up to them quicker than they expected. The idea flickered in his head - he could hurt Blaise and Harry couldn't do a thing, Theo couldn't do a thing and yet-- He stayed put, glaring and wanting and wishing he was a killer to murder Blaise right there - in front of his son. If Scorpius had died, Draco didn't doubt his rage would simmer but with him at his side, nattering away, this was enough for now. Outside, a thundering of screams from people who where long since dead made them both flinch, ready their wands. Yet the yells of Harry, Albus and Nott were more frightful. Whatever they’d tried to shout was lost when it slipped through the Manor walls like a ghost. Malfoy Manor reverberated as it intruded. A malevolent blot in the air, a swirl of greying miasma which headed towards them at such an alarming speed, Draco could only hope to apparate Scorpius to safety. His injury prevented that but perhaps Scorpius wouldn’t think about it.The Manor continued to reject the monstrous energy firing towards its ward and Head of House. Theo didn’t bother to stay, he took Blaise outside and apparated away. It bled ash, clumps falling onto the ground as if it were made of brick. Around it the snakes of barbed wire rusted black, fell to the floor and withered away. Harry and Albus yelled to run. As if Draco had the strength for that.“Apparate now,” Draco said in warning, and waiting to feel the pull before yanking his hand back. Close, Scorpius had almost gone away with his hand. Better than being apparated and having his guts spill onto the floor. The last thing he remembered seeing was the miasma and some antlers. Draco was becoming very, very tired of waking up in this bloody hospital. This time, the chair was filled with a snoozing Scorpius. Wasn’t that a relief? Theo and Blaise must be long gone now. A nightmare was over and now Draco could focus on healing – and finding whatever clue he could over where the two had slipped away from. He left his son to sleep and it was only when a Healer slipped in to check on him did the boy awaken. “Scorpius, I’m fine.” But Scorpius didn’t listen, not even as the Healer agreed. Everything would be fine so long as Draco did nothing strenuous for the next few weeks. “Stop pacing.” And it was aggravating to think Scorpius thought him too ill – no, he wasn’t someone who could withstand much pain, far from it. He wasn’t brave or lucky and he wasn’t courageous. Yet his son seemed to think he was happy to lay in bed and whimper to his flesh and blood about – about the nightmares and the days under someone’s will. Draco wasn’t saying a word, to anyone, ever. Catching the boy’s elbow on his fifth turn around the room, Draco hissed. “Enough.” The sooner people didn’t speak of this the sooner Draco could pretend this all never happened. Really, he just needed some time to adjust back to the world where voices didn’t whisper and wander in his head. Stray thoughts not his own showing up and begging to be followed through with – and now nothing. The Healer spoke and Draco didn’t listen much, though Scorpius hung on his every word. Potions to take twice daily for the next five days. Bed rest recommended and Draco was forever grateful this Healer didn’t ask too many questions on why his magic was so lazy, so devoid of a Will.Left alone again, Draco huffed at his missing clothes again – where did they keep going? Why was this a standard procedure?“Was it Harry who you were talking about before, back at the Château?”Squinting at Scorpius he couldn’t make out if the question was said out of humour or some digging curiosity. Or maybe he was trying to discuss anything but what Draco didn’t want to discuss. He seemed keen to pour a glass of water and Draco wasn’t sure how the kid knew he was parched. “...Why would you think that?” Ah. His voice was rougher and clearing his throat didn’t help. “Seemed a bit weird for Blaise to--” Scorpius turned around, grinning. This did not bode well. Draco was well aware what that meant. “You’re deflecting.”No matter how much Scorpius was entirely correct on that front – Scorpius had a habit. A bad habit and it was entirely a fault Draco laid at Astoria’s door because of course Scorpius tried his best to find out a way to woo Rose. Sipping at the water was a cool ointment to his sore throat. “You’ve been reading your mother’s books again, haven’t you?” One year, Draco had Hermione herself ask if he could check Scorpius’ behaviour as he’d acted too much over Rose and had caused quite the drama within the Weasley-Granger household. Apparently, in those Muggle books Astoria liked to read, acting like a complete tosspot was seemingly encouraged. Draco enchanted them to close if his son ever considered something within those pages a good idea. What did happen afterwards, that Scorpius then understood those Muggle books were all fantasy and not tutorials was he seemed to mellow. If not turn into a ridiculous reader of those same books himself. “No.” Scorpius snapped a little. “Rose had some.” A romantic, a naive one at that. Draco might weep for that combination.“Well, leave it.” Draco shook his head, tried to stand up and found his side was normal. No pulling, no stitches which pinched his muscles sore. If it was because he’d said to leave it alone or simply because Potter himself seemed to pop into the room seconds after Draco rose to his feet – Draco couldn’t say. “What’d the Healer say? You okay?” Harry said as Albus hovered by the door, motioning Scorpius over. “Some potions to take, nothing else worth mentioning.” Some piffle about lacking motivation and how his magic seemed less than ‘reactive’ when tested. Explaining the specifics, the Healer hadn’t believed these symptoms too worrying considering what Draco had been through the last few weeks. “And you?” Draco couldn’t see any wounds on Harry but he was good at covering those sorts of issues up better than hiding with his words. Albus grabbed Scorpius and hauled him away, urgent and Scorpius had devolved into rushed whispers which Draco couldn’t make out. Watching them turn back and walk further away prickled at Draco’s ego. What were they-- “I don’t suppose Albus asked you any questions about me while you were being fawned over?” If one Healer was enough to coo over an ill Potter, Draco didn’t want to see what a whole ward did for the man arriving in his Auror-reds. “How’d you know?” Harry was far too amused and Draco didn’t bother to ask what the specifics on that conversation entailed. “I suspect they might suspect.” Watching as they both seemed to chat excited and confused the next, Draco wasn’t sure if this was a positive or a negative. “You’re welcome to stay over I won’t be going home for a while.” As tempting as Harry’s offer was, Draco was keen to leaving the hospital and keeping Scorpius within eyesight for now. “I’d like to keep Scorpius close by.” “He probably feels the same way.”“Are they really destroyed?” Draco whispered back not wanting anyone else to hear and Harry nodded. Good, one thing had at least went his way. Draco left, too aware of how antsy and jittery Harry was near him and Draco didn’t want to make any kind of scene. Leaving had Scorpius come after him, grumbling how Draco needed to tell him what was going on more – and more about how he was feeling and Draco nearly laughed. Not happening. Lotty seemed to have done the best she could with the Manor, not quite there in terms of craftsmanship but it would hold the roof up. The marble floor was entirely scratched and ruined and Draco sighed at the tallying cost in his head. Scorpius never mentioned anything more on Harry. Neither did he seem to leave Draco for any length of time.“Scorpius, I’m fine.” Somewhat. “I’ll be fine.” He corrected once Scorpius pouted and didn’t believe him. “How about a drink?” A tad early, really to drink but this was a unique event.“You shouldn’t be so quick to jump in front of me,” Scorpius said as he sat and Draco uncorked some of the weaker wine.“Please, that’s my job.” But Scorpius’ face just soured and he bit at the corners of his nails. Draco didn’t need much to read him. “What do you want to say? Go on then, let’s hear it.”It took Scorpius some time to speak, which only meant he was considering backtracking and Draco remained quiet, drinking another and another glass. Scorpius hadn’t so much as sipped at his glass yet.“If I left here, for good would you be okay?”“I can’t fault you for wanting to be out from underneath this Manor’s shadow, Scorpius. Do whatever you want just be happy.” “I was going to go to some try-outs for Quidditch.” Was that it? Draco had always wondered why Scorpius was still here, still watching from the sidelines. “In Scotland.” Oh, right. Draco really had been holding his son back. Looking down at his glass he wondered how long Scorpius had wanted to leave but always weighed him worth more. “As Seeker? Good. Good luck. Not that you’ll need it. This Quidditch season has been abysmal for players all over.” Finally, Scorpius smiled, started to catch up by drinking and they discussed the ridiculous nature the League had taken. Awful players all round even the Magpies had only mediocre players.“Can you promise me something?” Scorpius very rarely asked for anything these days, too busy living a life outside Draco’s sphere of influence. “Don’t hide away like before.” It would be easy. Too easy to agree and do it, hide away in this Manor and drink and drink and try and forget all the memories which ever upset and tormented him. Draco nodded, slow. Though not doubting himself for promising, knowing just how simple it would be to break his word. He’d need to keep on top of this and in that vein, Draco bid his son an early night leaving his son to finish the wine before Draco took the choice out of their hands.The morning wasn’t fresh and welcoming. Tired and too at peace, Draco slept several times, over and over until the ache in his stomach returned and Draco slipped out of bed, to find food. Sitting up, Scorpius greeted him, his own lunch half-eaten on the table. “I was worried, you slept for a long time.”“I was wondering where your grandmother and grandfather were.” They hadn’t stayed in the hospital and they hadn’t reappeared even now. Scorpius stilled, eyes falling onto his own food. “Back in France, they said you should be more careful.”Oh.Draco knew those words were only a selection from his mother – ones to cover up and protect him from whatever rant and demeaning scoldings his father would spout. Even at his age, Draco loathed the idea of hearing his father’s disappointed tutting. He was relieved they weren’t here, though Draco suspected they might have returned to France lest they renew the attention from the papers.Fine. “You can’t spend your days looking after me, off you go. You’ve seen me. Now go do whatever it is you do all day.”Scorpius didn’t take the bait nor did he leave. The problem persisted until well after lunch where a FireCall from Albus had him disappear nearly immediately. Good. If Draco had to stay sitting up all proper his stomach was going to fall out. What a pest this scar was, Draco scowled, wished there was a spell to make it disappear already. Footsteps made his heart rate spike and he couldn’t say he found them too familiar. No, the magic too sour and uncomfortable. He wasn’t going to be caught unaware again. He wielded his wand and turned to hex – Blaise or Theo, whichever had decided to return for their revenge – and Harry waved his hands, palms open. “Hey, hey, it’s just me.”Oh. But Draco took a few seconds to lower it, the unsettling idea he wasn’t safe still present. “Any word?” Harry’s grim face said everything and Draco slipped his wand back up his sleeve, where he’d kept it ready. How long did Draco have to wait for the Aurors to do their jobs? “Are you lot even looking?”“We are--”“Really? Because Merlin knows you’ve let dozens of wizards and witches get away with that mess still on your desk.”Instead of snapping back, ever the possibility considering Harry hadn’t the greatest of patience, Harry took it. How very Gryffindor of him. “Anything else you want to say?” Harry didn’t stay long after that. Draco had so much to say but no words to voice them with so he shook his head and didn’t speak again for the remainder of the night.Draco was in two minds, know every detail or know nothing and push to forget all about it. The only one in danger now was Theo and Blaise if they ever dared show their faces. Revenge wasn’t an option. He never wanted to see the two of them ever again. Harry did return a few days later. Whether his duty demanded it or his Gryffindor bravery or pride made him slip through the wards easily and Draco wondered why he’d never been formally made to remove Harry from Malfoy Manor back when Blaise was in charge. It might have saved him; Harry apparating was one of the reasons – the only reason – Draco fell so quickly. The very first thing out of Draco’s mouth had no bite whatever. Even if he was anxious and paranoid – even more than before, he could tell when he was an arse. And he might be too proud to apologise for every transgression but not this, not for this. “Thank you for keeping Scorpius safe when I couldn’t.”Whatever divide Harry had tried to put up – Draco couldn’t blame him considering their last exchange – he visibly relaxed. Oh. Right. Yes, of course. He’d probably had a time of it, really. Draco had accused him of not chasing down the criminals Draco had let go. The next words out of Harry’s mouth made Draco freeze. “I’m glad you’re alright.” Harry’s smile was a little to much for him and Draco found himself flustered. He’d assumed Harry would try and pick another fight. “Likewise.” Draco ignored, outright ignored the fact Harry seemed to notice how Draco glanced away at saying one word. Coughing, he asked, “How has your sleeping been, any better?” Draco didn’t need to answer, he could see the black and purple tiredness under his eyes. Shrugging, Harry tried his best to ignore the question entirely.“Your face is red.” Definitely taking too much enjoyment out of this, Harry moved closer as if to prove a point, as if to unsettle him further.“You’re about as subtle as a unrooted Mandrake,” Draco sniped and Harry didn’t seem fazed. Harry hummed, pulled him close. “Do you want to go--”“No, I don’t want to go anywhere.” It was too easy to rest his chin on Harry’s head. Never. Nowhere. Ever. Holing up here forever wasn’t the worst of fates. Lotty was a fantastic cook. Going outside once or twice every few months wouldn’t be any different to what he had done before all this nonsense had started anyway. “Not even to my place?”So, Draco was pulled along to Harry’s and Draco wasn’t keen to explain why his first thought was a raring rejection too. He liked Harry’s little hideaway, what sense did it make for him not to find comfort in it now?“Are you listening?” Draco blinked, looked at the foot that’d given him a shove and forgot he was back here, with Harry, in his home. Somehow, Draco couldn’t remember the Floo journey. Had they used the Floo? “You’re spaced out. I mean, I get it--” Draco glanced to see how Harry even thought talking about it was a good idea. He had half a mind to ask to have his memory wiped clean and fresh and untainted by those Artefacts. “How understanding of you,” Draco snarled. Why did Potter have to lie? How did he always try to be a pillar of morality and understanding? How could Harry ever understand, being forced to turn his wand on his own flesh and blood and have no way to stop himself? How could he even fathom the guilt and rage at being used by someone he considered a close friend? How could he understand the silence of the world when he’d heard every ancestor to wear those rings hiss and scream in his head with the same muddled emotions Draco experienced time and time again? How could Potter ever understand that? How could Draco make sense of the listless energy which had no outlet because Draco realised he didn’t do much. Potions left ignored and the rest of the Dark Artefacts hidden far, far away Draco wasn’t sure what else he did with his time. Other than sit and think about nothing, the time passing in a blink and Draco unsure why – but it worried him. “Draco, come on, stop. You know what I meant.”“I don’t feel very well.” Draco admitted and Harry didn’t question him. Perhaps he was too worried Draco would flip the question back at him. “Rather I don’t feel right.”It didn’t take long for Draco to tire. Even just sitting in the same room as Harry was too much and Draco excused himself, to go home, before Harry once again offered him the bed. Having another Floo journey wasn’t the best incentive home so Draco took the offer, removed the medicine in his pocket and fell asleep.Muggles must have had a very inconvenient life, no easy refreshing spells, nothing to make clothes clean – within a few seconds. Draco didn’t mean to say he thought all of their inventions were awful. Most of them were and only a select few were noteworthy. Showers, did and would always beat spells in terms of comfort. And yet, Draco wanted neither when he awoke. His potion sat on the dresser no more than a few feet away and Draco could only stare at it and its colossal distance away. Just stand up and take it, he willed but the tinted vial didn’t move closer. No, he didn’t, couldn’t do that. Just let him sleep some more.“Harry,” Draco called out not sure if he could do so again with the amount of effort it took. Like Harry did several times already that night, he ambled into the room checking to see if Draco was okay. Even if he was wrapped warmly and comfortable in bed, he didn’t feel good and motioned to the medicine. “My potion.”“You could have got it yourself, you know.” Harry didn’t seem annoyed as Draco took the lemon-tasting potion but hovered to watch him take it. Even removing the stopper and drinking seemed too much. “No.” Draco hid under the covers, the darkness calming and quiet. The bed shifted under Harry’s weight and Draco peeked out of his makeshift cocoon as Harry sat the empty vial down on the floor. “Draco, what’d the Healer say?” His hand wormed its way through the opening and let his hand stroke over his forehead and temple, Draco wanted Harry to leave him alone and stay put all at the same time. Squirming closer, Draco hid them both away from the world under the covers. “Stay,” Draco said and Harry did. A calming stroke on his back as Draco nuzzled into Harry – always warm and trustworthy – he relaxed and he slept.Whether it was the pain in his shoulderblades or the smell of food which awoke him, Draco grumbled and couldn’t quite comprehend how he’d ended up coiled around Harry’s midriff in such an uncomfortable position. He wondered how it was possible for his spine not to have unhinged. “Lotty brought some, said you hadn’t eaten breakfast.” Harry gave him such an expectant look it was difficult not to sit up and attempt to eat. The tray sat nearby, two plates – one empty, Harry having finished his own in several quick bites with such speed, it reminded him of a baby bird, swallowing up whatever food given.Leaning back against Harry, Draco wasn’t sure he wanted anything. This was comfy though, Draco could deal with this weariness so long as Harry held him up, arm around him. Resting his chin on Draco’s shoulder tickled and Draco squirmed away, further down to avoid it. Tickling – urgh, why did such a sensation exist. Draco would rather keel over than deal with it. At least it wasn’t anything too heavy or too finicky to eat. Lotty’s service was always on point, even if she wasn’t here to see how much Draco appreciated it. Picking at the sandwich, Draco couldn’t summon a slither of want to eat much more than a few torn off pieces of buttered bread and seasoned chicken. “I’m too tired to eat.”“Have one and I’ll eat the rest.” Well, in usual fashion – a tantrum decades old about the shape of said meals – they’d always been diced up into triangles. Really, Lotty had never been told to stop once she’d started. Having only one slice wouldn’t be too difficult. Harry had seemed hungry too. Good all round really, if only Draco could finish this one. This, however, was impossible. He didn’t want to eat anything right now. “Can’t manage another bite of this,” Draco huffed, not even a complete corner had been finished off.Harry leaned over and tried to take a bite from it and, reasonably, Draco looked at him as if he’d gone mad. “You, what are you doing?” “You’ll share a goblet but not food?”“One isn’t a meal I’ve already had a bite out of? Is this another Muggle thing?” “Ginny and I picked at each other’s food all the time. You and Astoria didn’t share food?” Harry just kept up the stare, as did Draco, neither bridging the gap until Harry sighed. They most certainly didn’t eat already eaten food, thank you very much Potter. “Probably an upbringing thing, I guess. Maybe because we both didn’t get to eat as much as we wanted.”Ginny, the youngest out of such a large family probably was used to small portions out of necessity rather than fancy. Meanwhile Draco wasn’t even sure if he understood the neglect Harry suffered entirely. How did someone ever forget to feed a child? To have such resentment to starve one under their own house? Muggles were strange. But that was so long ago.“Does that really impact you now? For you to eat--” Draco was uncomfortable now, not sure if he could fault Harry for eating whatever food he liked but still – this wasn’t right. This didn’t sit right with Draco at all. “When I’m hungry, sure. And I’m hungry so hand it over, you said you were finished.” Harry leaned over, the arms around Draco shifting.“I am finished--” Draco said as petulant as he could muster. And Draco watched Harry take a bite out of the sandwich in his hand and bristled.Really, Lotty could easily make more, why was this Harry’s first go to, he wasn’t starving. He’d already eaten his own, why did he seem so nonchalant about stealing, stealing this half-eaten food?“You deserve more than my leftovers. Have Lotty make more, why are you--” Draco squirmed away more, Harry’s breathy laugh tickling at his neck as he hugged into him tight. “What?” Draco grumbled, awkwardly trying to keep Harry away with his shoulder and ear nearly pressed up to each other. “I don’t suppose you bought your wife flowers and chocolates at every possible chance?” Harry sounded like he was mocking him and Draco was offended. Offended and outraged because really, was this how Harry assumed he acted with his belate wife? How cold and-- twisting around Draco raged.“Why would I ever buy flowers for Astoria? Why would I offer her anything that withers and dies? What do you take me for?” In response, Harry laughed, face red and hand over his mouth – seemingly trying to breathe, laugh and eat all at the same time and Draco glowered.“Didn’t know you were such an adorable sap, honestly.”“Harry.” Draco scowled, turning back around and using him as a backrest. “Endearing,” Harry corrected. “Endearing sap, right.”“Better.” Draco conceded, huffed to himself as he saw the plate slowly go empty. “Are you still hungry?” Draco didn’t hear the answer, he was too focussed on staring at the tray. Not as if it was the most interesting or curious thing in the world but his eyes locked onto it and everything else faded.“Draco,” Harry said sounding a bit too far away. And when Draco blinked he wasn’t where he was before, Harry was close and Draco struggled to breathe as if he’d ran around the Manor. “Bloody hell, I thought you stopped breathing.” Draco didn’t dismiss his words as being exaggerated, he huffed and inhaled fast trying to calm the thud in his ears and a spiky lump in his throat made Draco flinch. “Come on.” Harry pulled him to stand up, “We’ll go see the Healer.”“I already know, he said before.” Harry gave him another look and Draco sighed. “I’ve to re-motivate myself. If you have work to do I suggest you get a move on. I’ll be fine. Really.” Harry didn’t move. Not until Draco mentioned he would shout if he needed anything else. He’d done it once already, he could do it again.If Harry were to wait for a few more seconds, he probably would have seen how Draco was yawning again. How he slept again and how Draco couldn’t think of a reason to leave this bed. “Harry,” Draco called out and there he was. Harry Potter coming to his beck and call and Draco was pleased to hide his face as he admitted, quietly and without much enthusiasm, “I lied.”“We could hop on some brooms and see who can grab the Snitch faster.”“I’d rather not be hundreds of feet up in the air the next time my body decides to stop breathing.”“You just have to find something you really want to do.”What to do, what did Draco want to do? The thought of leaving was too much. Nothing outside this room held much of his attention. What would he buy at the Apothecary? Nothing. No Quidditch matches were playing today. Even if he could go to the Muggle world, watch another movie and eat those-- Draco frowned, what were they called again? They wouldn’t go amiss, they were buttery and addictive and Draco wanted some. He wanted some now.“Puffs.” Draco said as he lay in bed, too demotivated to even turn over to see Harry.“Maybe, I might still have one,” Harry muttered to himself. Though his words were never explained, he’d left the room – Draco listened to the steps quieten fast and Draco sighed. Closed his eyes and wanted to throw himself out of bed and do something but nothing came to mind. Frozen. Until Harry made so much noise on his return, Draco’s curiosity won out and he rolled over to watch Harry set up another contraption.Muggle in origin going by that tail their inventions had so often and it wasn’t a box, though it was rectangle. Muggle’s Third Favourite Shape only second to the Circle. “This makes the puffs?” Draco couldn’t really understand why Muggles had so many items for their kitchens. This one, Draco hadn’t even seen in those television shows Harry watched idly in his hovel. “Popcorn.”The noise of whatever kernels Harry fed into the machine was jarring in the quiet. And then it got worse, so much worse, as a fan – maybe not a fan but the same constant whirling noise came from the blasted invention and Draco hated it. “This is louder than what I expected.”Harry beckoned him over, despite it only being a few paces away, Draco didn’t move. The machine popped. And popped and Draco spied something white fire up in the air and it managed to rouse Draco to sit up to watch. “It’s corn and it pops?” Draco couldn’t help it, he laughed, “Muggles make these devices and come up with these names? Corn that pops, popcorn-- that’s ridiculous. Corn that pops, who bothered to come up with that one?”“Chocolate frogs jump,” Harry said as if that was somehow a counterpoint. “So? They’re frogs, it makes perfect sense for them to jump.”“But… it’s chocolate.”“Yes, Harry, Chocolate Frogs are chocolate frogs.” “And popcorn is corn that pops.” Like that settled how strange this Muggle food was.They bickered more, until the popcorn had finished and the room smelled pleasant and the butter melted. Draco was pleased to have a bowl spelled over to him to munch. Their taste wasn’t exquisite or amazing, Draco had eaten much tastier, finer delicacies in life. Yet, this popcorn was worthy of binging. Harry settled next to him again, an occasional theft of a few puffs.“I knew it, you’re only after me for my Muggle technology.”“You wish I was that easy.” Harry choked and spluttered and Draco found for sometime after the spark, the motivation to go about his day was brighter, easier and the staring into nothingness didn’t happen quite so much. Well past dinner, Draco was curled up, watched Harry write report after report. Whenever Potter stopped, his habit of biting the quill only further frustrated him. Drumming his fingers on the arm of the couch he wanted something – a twitch, a dismissal, anything – but Harry didn’t even hear it. Didn’t have it so much as have his concentration wavier to even acknowledge the pestering noise. To say Harry was being competent for he wasn’t really, not in the grand scheme of his work, but Draco recognised that expression. Whatever Harry considered, planned to get through tonight was going to happen. Draco just tapped louder, slouching further down in his seat. He wanted attention and considering the lack of motivation he’d had all day, this wasn’t going to fade away if Draco could help it. “Your staring is pretty distracting,” Harry said, not yet looking away from his work. Every few minutes he’d backtrack, check a folder he’d already sat aside and stuff the other into it as if somehow connected. No matter how hypocritical he might be, distracting and wanting Harry to leave his work after admonishing him earlier for not trying hard enough gave him pause. “I know,” Draco said as he stretched and sighed. “That’s why I’m doing it.” Harry’s jaw twitched again and Draco knew he was close to losing his patience so, he stopped. Let Harry read over his work and scratched away at Draco’s own patience. Hurry up, Draco turned over, avoided the thought he might sleep again. What did it matter? Harry was busy and another nap wouldn’t go amiss. He just wanted to-- well, reaffirm everything. How Harry had given him more than enough space might be comforting in a way but now, Draco wondered if maybe the duel had unearthed some hidden or forgotten emotions. The sound of parchment being cast smaller made Draco a tad too hopeful – and he scolded the idea Harry was finishing up purely for his benefit. Spoiled might be what Draco would prefer but he was under no illusion Harry would do as he wished.“They were seen at the French border--”“Don’t talk about them,” Draco said as he curled up more. Maybe Oblivating himself would be the best course of action. “Just finish your work.”Harry sighed loud and if he was trying to be subtle this wasn’t the way about it. “Really, you weren’t kidding.” Draco turned back to rightfully complain about whatever it was Harry was talking about. Parchment was gone from the table and bones too-long in the one position clicked as Harry stood up.“What are you blathering on about?”“That you like being spoiled, just realising how bloody true it is.” Harry sat down by his side and Draco wasn’t sure why Harry had any trouble believing what he’d said.“Are you finished yet?”Humming to himself, Harry clasped his hands together between his legs. Now that Harry was so close, the lack of sleep was easier to spot. Perhaps the days Draco had spent in a blur of torpor had been difficult on Harry in other ways. What could Draco really do? Other than leave and remove a burden or two from Harry’s time. “When was the last time you slept?” Draco asked as he cuddled into him, Harry moved to rest his head against Draco’s. He nearly laughed, in a pitying sort of way and Draco awaited an answer.“If I could just have one night,” Harry said as he shut his eyes. “I might be able to make you something.” His cauldron and ingredients should still be here, he could make one potion. Stronger than what was considered reasonable without the side effects but Draco didn’t care right now. If Harry was happy to agree to drinking it for a night sleep, he’d make it. “Come on, you can keep me company.” Draco tugged him to stand up, but Harry didn’t shift. He supposed, this was one of those times the truth would give the better result. “I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts – I had so many that didn’t even belong to me – how do I know they’re really mine?”“What a pair,” Harry sighed out and followed Draco back to the makeshift lab. The place needed a dusting and with no Lotty here, Draco had to cast – attempting it a few times only to fail a few more – and he refused to have Harry do anything other than sit down.Making a potion ignited the same serenity as before. The expected motions and movements and measurings, the same cutting and stripping of plants and flowers, the same methodical and calm – easy and simple and following instructions--“I hate it,” Draco said out loud, not sure how he could keep brewing after that revelation. “Every time I think about following rules, or choosing to do what someone would like I just remember. I spent my time doing whatever Blaise willed without a way out.”“You remembered everything? I thought Impervius curses meant the memory wasn’t altogether after it was dispelled.” Harry had went off and grabbed a chair from another room, confusing Draco further since yet again, he’d somehow forgotten he was a wizard capable of making a chair out of anything else. “It wasn’t, not really. Malfoy only curse, I was supposed to take the knowledge to my grave. That’s why I never showed it,” Draco paused, turned to see what Harry’s reaction was. “I never showed you them either. I didn’t think you could help, not with your magic out of control.” Harry was resting in his crossed arms, leaning on the worktop. He had a distant look in his eyes that Draco’d never seen before.“Is it… the kind of thoughts you hope will leave you just as long as you don’t acknowledge them and when you don’t for a while you think, finally, that’s it. And then they come back as if they never left and you realise this is it, this is my life now?”What a rambling and yet alarming insight. Draco tried to flatten Harry hair, didn't ask anything for a time as Harry tried to doze off. The water took forever to boil. “I don't feel safe, not once, not since I woke up. If you never find those two, I don't know what I'll do.” Even though Harry was peeking up at him with barely opened eyes, Draco was sure he was committing this to memory.Having someone nearby helped keep his mind from wandering, from hyper focusing and losing his time. “This potion will knock you out but there will most likely be numerous side effects.” Draco added more and more measures to the recipe. It shouldn't take too long, though the side effects wouldn't be pleasant, not even for Harry. Harry just hummed to acknowledge he was listening, not quite asleep but not enough to give an fully developed answer. “Migraines would be the kindest. Spewing your guts up, not far off. You’d normally be on Death’s doorstep but with your resistance that’s not going to happen, not with these ingredients.”“I just want to sleep.” When Draco almost said how he would take care of it – how he’d take care of him, Draco shut his mouth. “I don’t think the Healer meant this when he spoke about motivation.”“You want me to stop?” “No,” Harry snorted, as if Draco were mental. The potions was finished in the early hours of the morning and Harry sent a Patronus away tagged with a message. To who, Draco never saw or heard and for the most part he didn't really care. Until Harry could turn around and say the two of them were locked up or dead he didn't want to hear about them. Not yet, not with his sense of security in shambles and his confidence shaken. Harry kept mumbling, potion not as fast acting but certainly potent enough to make Harry stay asleep - but considering the other recipes and their timings, this shouldn't be too much of a stretch. “Don't worry,” he mumbled and Draco hushed him again and again. “Present, promise. S'fine. ” What Harry was even trying to say didn't manage to come through after that.To say Draco took no time in relaxing wasn't entirely true. Harry was out of it and it set him off, a little too anxious like all the other trails of potions beforehand. What if this was just too much for him to handle? What if-- Draco slept again only waking at the sound of Harry grumbling about how much his head ached and his arm hurt. It was safe, best really for the both of them for Draco to never admit the arm was his fault entirely as he'd slept on it in his own fatigue. When Harry woke it was evening and he spend most of the night in the bathroom puking up his guts. Thankfully there were potions for that which were over the counter.Harry didn't ask for another potion the following night. Lotty had returned, eager to serve and Draco wondered if she simply needed an excuse to cook as she pestered them both for more orders. Thankfully she made no comment whatsoever of Draco's disappearance. Harry sided up to him and Draco knew he was up to something - this was classic Harry Trying to be Subtle. Letting him speak first, Draco wasn't sure what Harry was planning. Maybe this was what he was mumbling about before. “Puddlemere are playing and I have seats.” “The last time I went didn’t go so well.” Having to leave early because so much animosity was towards him it made his son nearly cower didn't need to be discussed. “Scorpius said as much. Which is probably why he talked Albus into sitting with him in the Magpie stands.” Still not convinced, too weary to even think of how to deal with other people and their insults Draco refused. Even if he would like to see a match in person, he wasn't sure if he could handle that again, not like this. “If anything happens, I can take care of it,” added Harry.Tempting, again. Very, very tempting to have Harry simply wave his name and make everyone placid regardless of the Deatheater in their stands. No, if Draco ever accepted this offer he’d never stop – he’d need Harry to deal with all the world and Draco was no fool. “No. If anything happens, I’ll deal with it myself. I can’t hide behind you.” Trying to save a little bit of pride – admitting he had a problem which might be made worse by Harry’s overprotective streak was too much. “Literally and metaphorically speaking.” The dig left Harry bristling and a little red in the face. “Right, all yours. So, let’s go.” Not even as Draco left did he believe he’d see the full match. Something would happen. Someone would say something. Someone always said something.The match was terrible, like a lot of matches were these days. Too many teams liked to keep the fan favourites and hadn’t yet found those great, once-in-a-lifetime players who’d be remembered of the next generation. As such, Quidditch had gone through a slump, even Puddlemere, who Draco had always favourite even as a child watched the Keeper miss and lose more points than necessary. And he was certain the other team’s Seeker was flirting with someone on the opposing stand and not even looking for the Snitch. The referee took it upon themselves to call Puddlemere the winners by default as the Seeker had eventually sang sweet nothings and promptly headbutted a Bludger, marking him out for at least the rest of the season. Draco tried not to laugh, but with half the stand uproarious, both he and Harry were laughing so hard his face hurt and Harry had doubled over. And it was over so fast Draco was sad to leave his seat. “Nothing happened,” Draco said as they left the stands. Nothing, no one, not a peep. Everyone had focussed on the match. Why would they bother with him? For so long, Draco assumed the same antagonising people would fling their comments towards him and his son and they’d never be able to watch a game in peace. Never. And so Draco had always avoided live matches, never once accepting any invitation by his son to go see any. “Did you say something?” Harry turned around to check and Draco shook his head. Too much of the world was different, all because of those two idiots. The world hadn’t changed, Draco had and as he slinked away, half wishing he wasn’t so tall to stand out with his hair – Draco didn’t care nothing happened. The feeling of being in imminent danger continued until he nudged Harry home earlier.“You okay?”“I'm not but I will be.” Whatever answer Harry expected, it wasn't that.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
No going back on this now. This was the best route of action, it wasn’t his favourite – wouldn’t be Harry’s either but it was necessary. They couldn’t go on like this. With Draco’s trust at an all time low and paranoia at a high he sniped at Harry each and every time he could. And Harry’s lack of sleep, lack of admittance he was ill, he was struggling, left him too in a foul mood.Draco wasn’t sure how much longer they could stay like this.“Harry, we need to talk.”“That doesn’t sound good.” Draco couldn’t say it wasn’t and saw Harry freeze, panicked and ready himself to hear the worst. Harry held onto his hands like it was going to stop Draco from saying what he had planned. “What’s wrong?”“We aren’t okay,” Draco started off. “It might be a good idea to take a break from this. For both of us. I’m going to see to see someone to-- well, to undo the damage trusting Blaise did. We need to take a break from this.” Draco eased his hands away from Harry’s.“We don’t have to stop just because--”“We do. I don’t even know how to talk to you about what happened. I don’t have any frame of reference, none absolutely none, Harry. And you – you can’t answer my questions because I’m not even sure of the answers myself.” Did he trust Harry? Was he just trusting him because nothing else had reared its head? Trusting someone when nothing could be challenged was easy. But Draco didn’t want to end this and leave everything behind. “Two months, okay. Find yourself someone to talk to by then.”Harry’s demeanour closed off sudden and Draco didn’t want to read too much into it. “And if I don’t?” He sounded like Draco had insulted him.“I won’t wait for a letter.” (He would). “So, you’re giving me an ultimatum?”It would be so easy to do so. Draco sighed, losing the energy he had for this. Honestly, he just wanted to feel better. “I want to stop panicking, stop second guessing everything anyone ever says or what I think. You do what you need to do, Harry. But I can’t keep going on like this. I can’t just – just want you for the rest of my life because I trust only you and hide away whenever you aren’t there because everything else is too much.” What kind of life would that be? What kind of relationship could he and Harry really have if all he did was have to comfort Draco’s paranoia? Harry seemed to understand. But he shook his head. Since when was rejecting a break up a possibility? Harry was stubborn but this was being idiotic. “That doesn't mean we have to end this. Go see a Healer, I don't see the problem or why we have to stop. Is this a pureblood thing?” “What?” It was a little odd how Harry said such a thing as if it were normal. A Healer while dating was fine but this - this wasn't for his magic or any magical aliment. No this was for his head, his mind - the very will which controlled his magic and Harry didn't seem to care. Wasn't he concerned? Worried over his own wellbeing by having Draco be here?How much Blaise claimed he was valuable to the grand scheme of the Twenty-Eight and yet now, he would go off and see a Healer. A healer which would lower that value to the point people wouldn't want to be in his company - in case his mind was being lost like his Aunt. “So, tomorrow. Is that okay?”What? Had Harry been saying something?“Okay, tomorrow...” Draco hadn’t a clue what Harry was so adamant or excited about tomorrow but whatever it was wouldn’t hurt. Even when the next day came, he sat in the sitting room and still didn’t understand.“Could you repeat that?” Draco narrowed his eyes at both Harry and his mother on the opposite sofa. What could they possibly be up to? The both of them weren’t on the greatest terms, not after Scorpius and Draco had ran back to France. And here they were, drinking tea and the form which they alluded to covered up in the middle of the table with more parchment. “You need to sign this, without looking.” “Are you having a laugh?” Like Draco was going to be signing anything without double checking loopholes.(What if it wasn’t really Harry? What if this was a trick to try and take his autonomy away from him again?) “No. That’s why I brought her--” His mother twitched, and Draco wondered if she was annoyed not to be announced by her name. “She can see it, she can read it so you don’t have to worry.”“A present you said, that I have to sign for?”“It’s a surprise!” Harry was still not letting any information go on what exactly Draco had been gifted. Why the extra paperwork?(What if this was just another ploy to steal his life?)Setting down her cup of tea on the saucer, his mother snapped, “Draco, sign it or you’ll no doubt be like you were on your fifth birthday.” Why did she have to bring that up? Urgh, he remembered reusing to go to some foreign place as a venue and Nott had got it and he’d been utterly furious and beside himself with angry snot and tears. So it was something he wanted but hadn’t considered. “Very well,” Draco said still not sure if he should trust what was in front of him – what was clearly his mother – or the voice in his head that kept him safe. “My only fee for this is I will sign first.” “What? No, you--”“The first, Mr. Potter.” Whatever passed between them was lost and Draco rolled his eyes. He may as well get this over with and see what the two were scheming. It’s not as if his own mother would go against him. (Right?)“I can stay, if you believe me Polyjuiced.” Her sneer was aimed more towards Harry and if Draco were to guess, this had been an argument towards her presence in the first place. (Maybe she should stay for a while). But while it crossed his mind he saw his mother stand in the same way she always did when eager to leave, hands clasped over her abdomen. “No one could act so convincingly like you Mother.” The parchment was span around and Draco hesitated to sign with a final glance to the two of them – and he did trust them both quite implicitly – he signed his name. His mother didn’t waste time leaving after and Harry might as well have started jumping up and down on the spot for how much energy he couldn’t shake.“Okay, now close your eyes.”“This is ridiculous, Harry,” Draco sighed frustrated. He’d never had this sort of nonsense trying to receive a gift. Closing his eyes, he was led away from the room where he signed his name and Draco wondered what Harry was doing. The wards were back up and under his control, the Manor would alert him if there were any bad surprises and really, what did bringing him to the second sitting room accomplish? “No, promise, trust me.” “That’s in somewhat short supply but very well.” Harry didn’t reply to that, he probably already knew considering his Mother had been here to vouch for Harry’s secret plan. It was a little... Too telling of how much Harry knew about Draco's frame of mind he'd brought a bloody witness, one which wouldn't lie to him or be easily manipulated. “Okay, now, just sit here.” Did the have to move rooms for this? Harry moved away and Draco sighed as he used the armrest to lean on and help keep his head up. This wasn’t really exciting, curious perhaps. But Draco had to admit a little part of him considered maybe this was just Harry’s lame way of trying to have Draco go back on their earlier consideration to take a break to sort a Healer for Draco's head.Harry would go find a Healer, wouldn’t he? Speaking of Harry, he returned, footsteps altered but Draco couldn’t tell what would make them sound heavier and more inclined to drag and scuff at the floor. “Well, what now? This has veered off ridiculous and went into nonsense territory.” As soon as he was finished speaking, he heard more. The swishing noise grew faster the closer it got. “What--” and then something cold, wet brushed by his hand and he recoiled. Not waiting for Harry to say it was okay to open his eyes or not, Draco saw it – the crup from months ago, its platinum hair and brown eyes, lowering its chin to sit on his knee. What?“It’s yours, your mother named him ‘Decimus’. You can still change it if you want.” Harry sat the certificate down beside him and Draco wasn’t sure he took any of the words in. Not even the certificate of authentication seemed to be written in a language Draco could comprehend at the moment.What?“Decimus?” Draco almost laughed at it because it was fitting in a way considering Draco was the seventh generation to be forbidden from owning any Magical Creature. He was glad his Mother named it because Draco as much as he wanted a crup for a lifetime had never thought of a name – that made the fantasy too real, too easy to realise he’d never have a need for a name because he’d never be allowed one. Best just wish for a few pets, a few rounds of fetch and be done with it.“But... I’m blacklisted.” He tried again to explain but ended up stopping, just watching the crup wag its two tails and wait. Was it okay to pet it? Was he allowed? Was that blasted Freya woman here again to count the minutes it was in his presence? “Not any more. No one can take him away. He’s yours, legally binding and all that.”“...He’s mine?”It didn’t really sink in until Harry said, “I can’t stay too long anyway, you need time to imprint it? Or something, I can’t remember but there’s a list--” Harry produced another parchment, a checklist, and Draco blinked at it.Was this really happening? The crup gave a grumble, nudged forward and huffed. Draco really wanted to pet it but--“You got me a crup.” He waited for Harry to tell him he was wrong, that this wasn’t really his, that there was a loophole. That this wasn’t his crup. Just thinking that made his heart hammer. This, this was temporary like the visit to them earlier was. He ran down the checklist to see if there was a point he had to return it back to the agency. “I promised I would. So, now you won’t be totally alone in this house once Scorpius leaves.” Once he leaves too, Draco heard the lilt of worry but Harry was beaming and a rush of excitement at the possibility--“It’s mine.”“Yes.”“It’s really mine?”“It’s really yours.” Checking back down to the adorable animal, Draco gave it a tentative pat on the head and was pretty sure he could die happy now. The crup started to tilt its head the other way and Draco let out a scoff which turned into a strange amalgamation of a hiccup, sigh and definitely not the sound of someone trying not to cry.He was calm in giving the crup a pet on the head, a few stokes over its ears and Draco wasn’t sure how he was supposed to stop and tell the brown-eyed (cute) crup to leave. Ever. Absent-mindedly he checked what Harry had handed to him in more detail. The first point on the checklist was: TELL THE CRUP ITS NAME (Master Imprint will start after it is said, please follow all instructions to complete the Imprintation process, no one else should be involved during this step).“Your name is Decimus and you belong to me, Draco Malfoy.”It gave a booming but solitary bark as if it agreed.Second point of the checklist: ALLOW CRUP TO SNIFF OUT ITS TERRITORY (Alone preferable but not necessary, territory in this case means your house, do not make the crup believe land that is not yours is his/hers, see more under LEGAL RAMIFICATIONS.)“Harry, if you tell anyone,” Draco took a calming sniff, “I cried at this, I will deny it and call you a liar.” Now they had to wander the Manor, the land around it and let the crup run free – and Draco wondered if the poor thing had ever been allowed to run in a field never mind several. “I won’t. Enjoy having a crup,” Harry said it in such a way that sounded a bit too on the nose. Another dose of reality – this was happening – he was now the owner of a crup – this crup – and he couldn’t. And really, it was Harry’s fault entirely as he stood up, found he couldn’t stay calm and collected any more because this was real – and he cried.“You bastard,” he croaked and Harry had the audacity to laugh but he seemed to rush over anyway, embrace him and congratulate him on his newfound crup with a coo in his ear and a hug which made Draco second guess if they should take time away. Decimus circled them, tails wagging but whining all the same. “Hey, hey,” Harry stumbled back as Decimus jumped up on him, pushing him away. “Okay, okay, I’ll leave you two to get your long awaited pets and cuddles.”Oh. That was true. “Don’t be jealous, Decimus.” The crup argued back, a grumble and howl, though the crup seemed more energised the more Draco spoke to it. And it started to circle him more, like some overgrown cat. “Okay, okay, I’ll show you where you live. Come on you ridiculous hound.” Shaking his head, though he couldn’t stop the bubbling excitement and sheer happiness at the fact he was showing a crup around. A crup! In Malfoy Manor!“This is Malfoy Manor you can go where you please unless Lotty – the house elf says otherwise.” Decimus listened, ambled next to him at a leisurely speed while Draco talked. Occasionally he would stop, sniff around a doorway before returning to Draco’s side. The very action made Draco give extra pats and praise. “Don’t even think of stealing food. Now, outside you can--” Decimus started to chuff, bounce around like it was the greatest word he’d ever heard. He supposed he should check to see how fast the crup was or rather how eager Decimus would be if he was called. Really how often would Decimus, a non-pureblooded crup be allowed to roam free anyway?They made their way to the gardens. Decimus checking up at him every now and then as if to say, ‘Hurry up’. When he opened the door to leave, Decimus was almost out before he’d been given the order. “Stay here until I call, that way you can see how much of the land is free to roam on.”Decimus whined. Draco apparated away. The problem which Draco hadn’t considered was Britain wasn’t the warmest or driest of countries and so when Draco landed in the last field to the east he noticed how the grass underneath his feet was waterlogged. “Decimus! Here!” The crup did not stay platinum and golden for very long as it bounded full pelt against the near marsh-like qualities of the field and promptly tripped over its own paws and slipped into the mud face first.Draco wasn’t sure why – but it brought him a great joy to see how fast Decimus was to run towards him. Less so that the crup didn’t seem to slow. Until Draco was jumped up on like Harry had and the weight and force was a bit too much, a bit too unexpected for Draco to so much than fall too.The water was cold, the mud was colder and Decimus sniffed at his face and jumped around, thinking Draco was going to play too. “You’re a mess.” Draco told the crup and it barked, excited and eager to keep going. Checking down at himself, well, his clothes had seen better days. “Well, There’s more. This is the furthest you can go in this direction.” Titling his head to the side, ears flopping, Decimus didn’t seem to quite understand that there was far more area he was allowed to roam as he pleased.“Come on, find me again.” Draco apparated again.Decimus might not be the most intimidating of crups, might be on the scale of cutest than deadliest, but it did run like the wind especially when Draco called. For the most part, Draco only wished to spend a few moments outside to show off where the crup could go.The sky darkened and Draco sniffed, skin chilled. He’d been outside for hours and he couldn’t tell if he had gone slightly mad from apparating around his property. Laughing at the way Decimus ran – when excited was a bit like the crup had decided to make its front legs and back legs completely independent of each other – and of course it seemed to skid and fall over itself during these times a lot more.He’d adopted a complete goofball and he loved it already. “Good boy.” When he was a child he wouldn’t have given the excited crup a cuddle because it was filthy and covered in a thick cake of mud. But so was Draco after several tackles to the ground. Now, it just seemed like a wasted opportunity so he calmed the overexcited creature with pets and cuddles. “Now don’t run further than what you have today, I won’t be happy, you’ve enough place to run and play for miles.” Decimus licked at his hand and as they returned to the Manor when the rain returned, the crup took a few sniffs at some puddles of water and Draco sighed. A goofball and a picky-eater. Filling a bowl of fresh water in the kitchen, he set it down and Decimus well, decimated it. “Well, let’s see,” Draco scoffed to himself, the checklist wasn’t completely clear of the mud and rainwater. SHOW/TELL THE CRUP WHERE IT RESTS“Decimus you can sleep anywhere you want, minus Lotty’s room.” The crup didn’t register it, he was still lapping up water from a newly filled bowl – making more of a mess than Draco thought possible as it seemed to be walking around the room with the bloody thing as the bowl would inch further away only for the crup to be more excited and drink more and push the bowl away.SPEND TIME ALONE AND COMPLETE THE PROCESS BY OFFERING A PINCH OF BLOOD (Master only). THE CRUP WILL DECIDE. REJECTION WILL BE A BITE, HAVE A HEALER READY. IF ACCEPTED PLACE IT UPON ITS FOREHEAD.“Huh, well, here we go.” And Draco was nervous again. Had he done things out of order? Had Decimus actually been hating his time outside? He supposed he’d know soon enough as he pricked his thumb and offered his hand to the crup.Please don’t bite.Please don’t bite.What if it did bite? What if he was destined not to have one? The experience with the Hippogriff came to him then. Maybe he just wasn’t good with Magical Creatures? Sniffing around his hand, Decimus licked the stray droplets from its nose before it sat back.Oh. Oh, was it accepting his command? Touching the droplet of blood onto the mess of fur, Draco waited to see what would happen. Decimus barked. “Are you hungry?” Decimus gave a high pitched bark that went right through Draco. Ouch. Food, that’s what Draco needed too. “Lotty!”The house elf nearly had a heart attack upon seeing him and the crup. Decimus on the other hand was sniffing the air in the direction of Lotty who gave a wary look towards the creature.“Master you’re--”“In a bit of a mess, yes. Could you make something, an early dinner, if you could. I’m going to shower and then this one needs a bath too.”“Lotty will bathe the creature! Master should shower only himself! Master shouldn’t,” Lotty made a disgusted expression towards Decimus. “Shouldn’t lower yourself to clean the beast!”“Decimus behave, this is Lotty. Do as she asks, she’s very dear to me.”Lotty made a noise and Draco struggled not to laugh. “Lotty doesn’t like the beast. The beast has no manners.” The crup tilted his head but was taken away, Lotty holding onto the collar while walking away. Draco was at least glad Decimus seemed to understand he was to go with her without any arguments.“Lotty doesn’t like Decimus. Decimus shouldn’t put mud on Master. Bad Decimus!” Lotty continued to ramble as she headed towards the nearest bathroom. Draco laughed again, left to go and scrub the rest of this mess off his skin. Really, it shouldn’t have been a surprise to Draco that Lotty would dislike the crup. If only she didn’t like the idea the usual rules were being changed because of it.“Master! The creature shouldn’t stay in Master’s room, that’s for Master and Madam Astoria and Mast--”“Lotty, it’s okay. Don’t worry.” Draco tried to appease the house elves odd way of seeing the Malfoy family and decided to move onto a different tactic as he ate his early dinner. “I like crups, Lotty, please don’t mind it.”She flustered immediately, “Master shouldn’t say please to a house-elf!” She left in a hurry but Draco could tell her anger wasn’t genuine as she still served him dessert of ice-cream later on. Decimus had a bowl too, though Lotty made a point to claim it was the smallest, awfullest bowl to ever grace the halls of Malfoy Manor. Well, so long as they were getting on somewhat.He wrote a letter to Harry with two words and went to bed not waiting up for the response.The crup paced outside his door and Draco huffed at the whining at his door. Fine. “Just for tonight since it’s a new house,” he reasoned to the crup. Decimus was pleased and slept curled up at his feet. Halfway through the night, Draco awoke to the sound of Decimus falling out of bed and Draco laughed so loud, Lotty popped in to check if he hadn’t contracted a disease from ‘the beast’.His week went well, so well in fact he didn’t notice the lack of reply or letter from Harry until well into the second. So, he sent another letter. He was seeing a Healer tomorrow, and he wished Harry a speedy find on a Healer who could help him too.But no reply came.“Lotty! Decimus! If one Harry Potter shows his face, you have to corral him into a room and not let him leave until I return.” With orders given and well received if the cry of anger and the booming bark said anything, Draco went to the Healer he’d decided on. Waiting rooms weren’t for Draco so he went inside, found the place ten minutes behind and left to find himself walking back towards the Floo and back to the clinic. He'd searched around, found this one and read up on him a bit. Nothing too extensive.Time wasted he returned to walk in and finally deal with this paranoid part of him. He was younger than he was expecting. Or maybe looks were deceiving with such long hair. But his handshake was strong – not overbearing or flimsy and weak – and he didn’t seem to care it was Draco Malfoy in his practise. Not at all.The room was comfy, if only because Draco imagined the majority of time people spend in this place it was sitting so why wouldn’t it be? And Healer Matthews desk was off to one side by the wall, adorned with achievements and qualifications. A little unaccustomed to what he should do, Draco sat down on the first chair he came to.He expected a bigger room. A lounger. Something that said he was a Healer who worked on broken people.“Now, what can I do for you Mr. Malfoy? Or would you prefer Draco?”It couldn’t be seen as good, polite even as Draco’s defences were already on high alert. If first impressions mattered to this Healer Matthews, Draco was as good as gone as his first instinct was to ruffle feathers and goad. “Would you want to be called Healer Matthews or Marvin,” he drawled. “Marvin’s fine...” He did a look then and Draco nodded, he wasn’t too bad if this didn’t annoy him from the get go.“Draco,” he said not feeling the most mature. “I don’t trust people. I need to if-- if I want to have a relationship-- I don’t how to explain this.”“What do you think made you mistrustful? Is there any particular incidents that you can think of that makes you wary? Or is it that trust for this relationship is the issue?” He could talk about his father, how the man was supposed to guide him in life and he’d trusted everything he ever said only to find out later it was wrong. So undeniably wrong. But he spoke about Harry in as round about way as possible because if Draco was here, paying for private care then he’d talk about what he really wanted to talk about.“They lie all the time to the point I know that it’d be better for them to go to Healer and they say, I’m fine. It was supposed to be mutual, I was supposed to come here and stop being paranoid and isolated and they were--”“They haven’t gone to a Healer yet?”Draco shook his head, not a word. “They said they would let me know when they were because--” he wasn’t sure he wanted to say this part. Not to some stranger who didn’t know Harry or Draco or what they had talked about before. “--We ended things, I wanted to end things and said if he didn’t get one then don’t come back. So this basically means, I think it does anyway, that they--” Draco got fed up already, so long as he didn’t say a name it shouldn’t be too overly complicated. Unless he had to find another Healer. “He doesn’t want to see me any more and just doesn’t want to talk.”“How long has it been?”“Two weeks?” Saying it out loud made Draco feel just a little – a lot – pathetic. What was he? Trying to be clingy and hypocritical?“...Finding a Healer is quite personal, it might just be taking him longer than you did because he hasn’t been comfortable with the idea until very recently. I wouldn’t write someone off just yet. Some people have waiting lists of a few months. Even then, he could have met a Healer he didn't gel with well.” That... made sense. And a few months? Draco hadn’t considered it would take that long to find one person to listen to him. Would Harry find someone soon? Was he just on a waiting list? Why wouldn’t he just send a letter saying so? Maybe Harry's fame was a greater hassle than Draco's infamy?“Do you think you’ve maybe, already made up your mind, about him coming back? Why wouldn’t he? You both agreed, you were both relatively happy, I gather at this?”“I think he likes the denial more than me.” What an awful truth to blurt out to a stranger.“I’m not sure if I can diagnose your partner without him being here. Let’s focus on you.”Oh. Right. The Real Reason. Draco was slow to open up, going so far as to introduce the Rings of Celius first, noting they were destroyed as the first fact about them. And draco would pepper his answers, jumping back and forward in time of his life - from Hogwarts, back to going to the Quidditch match and feeling unsafe - then back to Blaise and Theo. Thankfully Matthews didn’t regard this as common, or restitution for Draco’s past. No, he jotted some notes and sat back in his own chair. And asked Draco to explain and Draco was relieved.He ranted about Blaise and also himself for not noticing. (How couldn’t he notice?)“Well, let me ask this do you think you’re a good judge of character?”Ha! Being a judge of character, manipulating people was literally a part of his job. Fine, Draco glanced back to the wall where the desk sat and Matthew’s certificates hung on show. “You graduated from Hogwarts but at the years Healing wasn’t considered worthwhile so making this practise close to forty years old means you come from money, or you know someone with money to have set it up back then. I imagine you’re one of those cut-offs from an extant pureblood line, someone with money but little privilege of family.”Matthews didn’t find it interesting. “And why would you care about any of that?”“Because where you get your money from, Matthews, is the most important part of a person and dictates if I trust you or not.”“And what about my receptionist? What do you make of her?”What? Were all Healers so obstinate in asking bizarre questions? “I didn’t really look at her.” For some reason, Matthews found this bit more noteworthy to write about. Draco couldn’t see why. In a passing comment as Matthews scribbled he asked, “Someone buys you a drink at the bar, what do you make of that?”“Galleon-chasers I make a habit to avoid them. Not like I go to a bar often for it to happen. A lot of people would like to marry rich.”“That’s all? The only people who can try and offer you a drink are people after your money? Not someone flirting or just buying a round? And my history, which part of it makes you trust me?”“Extant families and their ilk don’t interfere with each other. You’re cut off for a reason, not even if you tried to tell anyone about this, I’d be safe.” Draco paused in answering the other question, but Matthews waited too. Fine. “Not many people want to be near a Deatheater, whether I was one as a kid who didn’t know what he was getting into or not, I’m not the dateable type.”“Tell me, did you trust your boyfriend--” That sounded so, so… juvenile. Like they were in Hogwarts and worrying over tests. And also wrong. Wrong because Harry hadn’t even messaged him once and surely any sort of boyfriend would have messaged once. It wasn’t as if Harry lacked any means to send one. “Don’t call him that.”“Aright, partner?” Draco accepted that one. “What made you trust him?”He couldn’t just outright say it was Harry Potter because that wasn’t even an answer, not really. Unless Draco wanted to sound like some fan who believed Harry was a shining beacon of virtue. So, Draco settled on saying, “he’s a better person than me.”“How so? You just said he lies all the time. Do you lie all the time?”“No, I don’t but--” Draco stopped talking, not shutting down, no he was thinking. Hard. Lying wasn’t what he did, maybe exaggerate or let people panic over what he knew but lying didn’t help Draco. So he didn’t lie, not often. He didn’t realise the sheer amount of mental gymnastics he went through on a daily basis. His head hurt and as he looked to the clock, he had another hour left. Well, bugger.Drained and wanting nothing more than to sleep seeing the crup bound towards him as he returned home and Lotty pop back into existence to ask about what sort of snack he'd like to eat made everything just a little easier. He spend his time crouched down, hugging the crup and be attempted-licked-at that he still didn't believe was quite his - not really - and muttering possibilities of food to Lotty. As if not wanting to be one-upped by the Beast, Lotty announced with gusto, "There's a letter from Harry Potter!" And she seemed far too proud at delivering the message.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
About time. Lotty handed Draco the letter, along with an anxious look to his feet where Decimus curled.It simply read: ‘How’s the crup doing?’Ha.Taking a look under the table, the animal slept on his shoes with a great weight. Paws twitching and jowls huffing. How easy it would be to ramble about the gift. A length of parchment and the envelope sat at the ready. Lotty began to whimper and twist her ears.He grimaced. His poised hand did not move over the set parchment. Too many issues – the ink was wrong, the quill was splitting and he stared at the parchment like an exam he hadn’t a chance at passing. More excuses. Now, whenever Draco tried to write something the more his fingers clenched and cramped and hurt. He couldn’t do this yet. So, he put it off. Went back to bed.Pretended he had read nothing. He could push this back for a time. It was a short note, nothing urgent.‘I intend to remarry...’How could he write it, repeatedly, without pause? With no hesitation?Writing a letter was simple. So why couldn’t he do it? He stopped starting them. Lotty noticed and had taken it upon herself to announce Harry Potter had somehow insulted him and no matter what Draco said could convince her otherwise. How could a house-elf ever understand the sickening idea of having no freewill and doing what another demanded of him?Days went on and letters sat unanswered. In the end he stayed in his room too ashamed to face the ever growing pile. He’d almost lost everything that night. All he had done that morning was stare at the jewellery box and feel sorry for himself. Lotty’s usual timid chap broke him from his sulk.He sighed at the noise. She would refuse to come into the room unless Draco allowed her physically. “Is there a problem?” Decimus squeezed inside as Draco opened the door wider.“What? Lotty has no problem. Does Master has an issue with Lotty?”“Don’t take your frustrations out on Decimus.”Another tug, another twist. She refused to answer. Decimus jumped onto the bed and it spilled out of her.“Nott. Mrs Nott is here,” she whined. Draco glad to have only opened the door a fraction; he’d wedged himself between it and the frame. Unprepared for the visceral thudding in his ears the name brought. Nott, bloody Nott, let the name and person it belonged to wither and die already.“Lotty did not want her inside the Manor. The gardens are too good for Mrs. Nott, Lotty said so. Lotty will curse Mrs. Nott if Master is harmed. Lotty will do the same to Master Harry Potter too if he disrupts the Manor again.”“Lotty, I don’t need to remind you but--” Draco paused as he remembered. Ah. Lotty disliking Harry could bring up past rants and griping. That could be an embarrassing issue. “You can forget all the ranting I did about Potter when I was a child, you know. The scars don’t even--”“Scars?” Her eyes were wide and wild.Pinching the bridge of his nose, Draco regretted his younger self and his decisions yet again. “Metaphorical, Lotty. Don’t concern yourself with my whims, Potter might be infuriating at times but it’s fine now, understood?”“Lotty will curse Harry Potter if Master is ever harmed.” She would never shift from an already sworn doctrine of loyalty towards him. Harry was on his own with this one.“...Perfectly reasonable.”Best have Pansy out of his land before Harry appeared and made things complicated. Who knew what she would do with that information? Sell it to the Prophet and Draco never wanted to see a journalist ever again.He checked himself over in the mirror before leaving, pulling back his shoulders and curbing the pitiful expression. Right, now to see to Pansy, the bitch.Pansy hadn’t aged terribly, though her haggard appearance right now as she stood next to a marble sculpture might have more to do with what she had decided to perch beside than her nature. She didn’t so much as look him in the eye.“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t hex you to pieces.”“I didn’t know,” she mumbled and Draco found it terribly uncomfortable to watch her lower her head. She stuttered for once in her life. “I didn’t know how far they were willing to go.”“And as soon as you heard you rushed over, is that it? Should I thank you?”“I didn’t have some whirlwind romance,” she sneered like she’d said a biting insult, still never raising her head. “I only found out they took money from you. Galleons for supposedly donating to--” She went to root around in her robe pocket, and Draco snarled back.“If you dare handover what I think that is, you will wish to end up in St. Mungo's.” Vomiting was a close second to shouting but he managed to keep the itch at his throat down though not his voice. “Get out Pansy. I don’t know what you thought coming here would prove but I don’t want to see you again.”She froze, to the point where Draco began to debate whether he should summon Lotty, Decimus, both of them or simply cast her out himself.“I’d have married you if you hadn’t pulled the arrangement for Astoria.” She tucked some hair behind her ear.What was that supposed to mean? What manipulative tactic was this? Some filtration in hopes Draco would leave Theo alive if he ever found him?“That’s where we’re different. I would’ve given everything up to marry Astoria.” Why Pansy had the gall to look hurt at the admission, Draco didn’t care. “Take your gold and don’t ever come back.”“--I--” She didn’t even have the courage to look him in the eye. “I’m sorry.” She slumped, defeated and Draco had no mercy to show her. He could hear it, all breaking up in her voice and he could remember a time the sound used to hurt him too. “I’m sorry, Draco. I would’ve--”“Would’ve what Pansy? Sold your cheating husband out for what? My gratitude?”“No, I would’ve told you. I would’ve told him to stop.”“Or maybe you would’ve jumped at the chance to marry me while my will was under theirs? All of you get your happy endings at my expense.”“That’s not fair! I wouldn’t Draco, I wouldn’t.”The Manor made some flustered banging of doors and windows and it stilled their words. Whether her face reminded him of a time he enjoyed her company and loyalty or whether because his rage was dwindling already – he shook his head.“Get out.” And whether it was the tone or maybe very annoyed wizards gave off a particular smell, Decimus charged out, barking and snarling, tails high, maw upturned and teeth gleaming. To those who did not know, Decimus seemed to assume every human out in the garden would apparate away for it to give chase and play.Jumping, she edged away from the approaching crup. “How did you--?” Pansy was from another family blacklisted and watched the crup with horrific fascination.“Just—here, okay?” She threw a letter on the ground as she apparated. Its waxy seal heavy against the gravel.Draco scowled, though the joy at having the crup snarl and snap and scare her away was satisfying enough. Lotty appeared next to him, muttering a few curses towards where Pansy had once stood. Today hadn’t gone well already. What could possibly uplift his mood?Decimus sniffed at the letter, pawing where she once stood with a whine. Draco gave it a few well earned praises. The house wasn’t so quiet these days even if Scorpius forwent a visit. Thank Merlin for that. A heavy, energy-sapping sigh and Draco needed tea.As if Lotty read his mind – she announced it so.Draco scooped up the letter, pushing Decimus away from mouthing at it. Another time he might’ve liked to peek into what Pansy delivered so desperately on her own. Now, dread sat on his chest and made him dizzy. Pocketing it for now, he glanced to the crup, play-bowing and eager like an overgrown pup.He laughed, relieved for a distraction.In a blur of apparition and rough housing which bordered on exhausting, Draco returned to his bed earlier than normal and slept like the dead, tea chugged like tonic beforehand and loyal hound at his feet.The days followed and no more mail was sent. Even Luna’s letters had stopped – only because Draco had yet to reply to her too. The last few letters were unopened, unread and Draco began ordering Lotty to stockpile them out of his sight.“Really, this is pathetic.” The crup tilted its head as Draco pushed the blank parchment away.“Another time,” he said not directing it at anyone but himself. Lotty tugged on an ear before she cleared the table. A failed letter would be progress at this point. Draco loathed the feel of the quill in his hand. The dip of ink and the dabbing of the excess made his mouth drier than sandpaper. The scraping of quill against parchment, such a noise reminded him of writing, ‘My offer to wed...’ And he could write no more.Harry would ask eventually and when he did Draco would lie. A man whose life revolved on networking and unable to write a letter was a man doomed.Before the idea settled to have an early-early drink to give reason to the burning in his gut, Scorpius took that moment to rush in. He stood stock still at the sight of Decimus, which had taken to sniffing the air intensely, ears perked and tails hanging low, with a hint of a wag.“This isn’t a family pet. It’s mine.”Really, the spoiled little brat of older days was still there - demanding Decimus pay attention only to him.“He’s fluffy.”“Regal,” Draco corrected and his son tittered as he offered the crup a hand to sniff as it greeted him. Thankfully, after Scorpius’ tantrums as a child wanting a crup he’d never once repeated his desire for one. Perhaps a phase, the same way every young wizard wanted to be a Seeker or a wandering Duellist.“Decimus, this is Scorpius, you keep this one safe.”At the command, the crup’s tails wagged furiously, possibly happy at the idea of another responsibility. Scorpius was more curious about its presence than overjoyed. Best not let the boy ask too many questions.“Your try-outs, when are they?”“Couple of weeks away.” Scorpius’ voice went high-pitched. “Do you want to come and see? You haven’t watched me play in ages.” How excited Scorpius was at the prospect of having him there. How much of Scorpius’ life had Draco missed by staying as far away as possible when it came to the public eye?“So long as you don’t think it’ll hinder any scouts approaching you, I’ll be there.”“Daad--” Scorpius groaned, was about to start arguing. But really, every time he saw Scorpius now, he couldn’t not think about the face he pulled back then. Scared. Terrified. Back when Draco hadn’t done his duty as a father.Fuck.Decimus whined, pawed at the shine on Draco’s shoes as if it could sense the crumbling pride at his feet.Matthews had said to be more open. The amount of people in his life he believed he could talk to could be counted on one hand with fingers left to spare. And really, if Scorpius did end up signing off to some Quidditch team when was the next time they could spend time just fighting through all that had happened? When would they have time other than now?Decimus returned to sniff at Scorpius who squatted down low to give it the proper attention a spoiled pet deserved.Words should never be difficult to give voice to, unless somehow, Draco was scared of the result and Draco was always told never to be scared of speaking (he’d sit and be head of the ruling class because he was Malfoy and part of one of the oldest families in Britain his father once said). So, Draco took a note from his younger self and spoke without thinking about what he was really saying, letting it spew out of him and hoping never to talk about this again.How calm and happy – at ease – Scorpius was here, with him, the man who’d tried to kill him. A cruel, vicious voice said how Scorpius was foolish to trust him even this much. So while Scorpius’ attention was not boring into him, Draco let out the truth.“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for raising my wand against you.” All it did was make him more and more guilty, heavy and sticky tar sitting in his throat. He should have done his job and never allowed the situation to escalate.Scorpius attended the crup’s need for another scrap of attention before he stood. Maybe, if Scorpius wasn’t such a sensitive child used to seeing Draco’s moods and picking up on habits of his mother, he would have ignored the words and moved on. Pretended it had happened. Left it as a conversation never had but always remembered. But he gave him an answer instead of letting Draco wallow in possibilities of how to gain Scorpius’ forgiveness.“I never once thought it was your fault. Ever.” How could Draco ever be relieved to hear those words – they shouldn’t even exist. Like he was a child again, Scorpius tugged at a sleeve of Draco’s robes, pleading. “I never faulted you, never. But if it makes it easier to forgive yourself, I forgive you.”Closing his eyes and steadying himself, if Draco was someone who found emotions easy to wear like Harry, he’d be a sobbing mess. Right now, he wasn’t sure if the guilt was easing or simply overrun by the admiration of having Scorpius be a better person than Draco could ever hope. His mother and father had navigated a war with him and he didn’t so much as see them unless tradition called for it. He’d never quite saw his father the same way after seeing him snivelling at the mere thought Voldemort was angry at him.“Thank you.”Draco had had a horrid nightmarish thought maybe, maybe, maybe Scorpius wouldn’t defend him, wouldn’t want to see him for a second longer. Or be scared and scarred forever. Hating and resenting him out of sight.Best talk of other things.“...Do you have any plans for today?”“Nope,” Scorpius said too fast and glanced away to the floor. “You think we can go eat out, like we used to with Mum?”They hadn’t eaten out in years and Draco wondered if he’d stopped that too with excuses to save Scorpius some potential trouble. “Waiting lists are most likely several months out considering the timing.”Scorpius thought hard for a moment.“Can we buy books?” He scrambled, but the ever hopeful look of books being bought made Draco snort. Of course. Books. Draco wasn’t bookish, unlike Hermione who always had her nose in one. Only certain topics held his interest and many of those were already in the Malfoy Manor’s Library, never looked at more than once or twice in reference. However, it was impossible to refuse Scorpius’ enthusiasm for them.“I can spare a few Galleons for some,” Draco said, repeating what might as well be a mantra for whenever Scorpius ever entered a new shop or wrote to him in Hogwarts.Harry’s blank letter remained unsent, Pansy’s unread, while Decimus lay down at the Floo to nap as both Malfoys went to spend time in Diagon Alley. Draco was recognised although wasn’t the disaster he assumed, even if he did spy a few snarling expressions his way.Scorpius found a limited edition of a book he had already bought – Draco was sure he had it back at the Manor – but he didn’t refuse to buy it again. To say Scorpius’ shopping trip of books was one thing but it gave Draco the courage to head to an Apothecary and pick up more ingredients. Most of the Manor’s supplies had been vanished by Lotty for being burnt or ruined.“I don’t provide services for Deatheaters. Suppose I can make an’ exception considerin’ Harry Potter said you saved ‘im an’ all.” Scorpius almost said thank you too before the shopkeeper added, “Double the rate and if you don’t like it, go some place else.” Scorpius looked, as if this was good and wholesome and not someone trying to fill their pocket while trying to feel morally superior. Draco would rather meet Wrek again and hand his extra silvers for delivery of Theo’s note.“As if a Malfoy would bother with such drivel, I’ll pass on your offer and let everyone know I’m happy to buy ingredients wholesale from individual herbologists.” Her face soured and Scorpius seemed to wilt under her stare.“Do as you like, won’t find stock as good as mine.”Potter never said anything about his friends, mind. Friends who, regardless of their affiliation with Harry stood up on their own merits.“I’ll just ask Longbottom next time I see him for some names. He was your teacher, wasn’t he?”“Favourite, really.” Scorpius piped up and the boy was quick – much quicker than Draco thought to account him. They left her scowling in petty defeat, Draco’s win no less petty. Most people knew Longbottom not as the one to kill a snake with the sword of bloody Gryffindor but a man with green-thumbs and constantly growing list of references which used him in their herbology books. Maybe he really should contact Longbottom for supplies?Another letter to send.Maybe not.Even when Draco complained as Scorpius bought yet more tomes, to the point where they were thrown into a charmed bag and left Scorpius with his hands free - only for him to buy more – Draco didn’t hesitate in handing over his Galleons. Twenty, Forty, Sixty-five now for the total of the day out.Draco would see one or two which intrigued him enough to browse, flicking through a few pages only to realise it was simply a collection or rewritten from another work. Although, speaking of brewing, Draco picked up the only edition which went further into Sleeping Draughts; unlikely to have any breakthrough inside it but Scorpius had started suggesting books for him to buy and Draco couldn’t think of anything he needed right now.As much as Draco didn’t want to – Scorpius slipped into the Weasley’s shop. Happy to talk about a long awaited prank he would play on Albus. They spent too long in Diagon Alley and while Draco could slip into Knockturn Alley, he didn’t dare take Scorpius there even though he was no longer a child. Best those two never have a reason to need each other.Lotty was forever grateful when they both returned and announced they would eat. Decimus was keen too and it gave Draco a segue into what he would still need to do that day, urging Scorpius to go set up his prank.If staying in this Manor made Scorpius nervous then Draco would see to it his son would have every reason to go and see the world and avoid the horrors of this cursed place. To say his best interests also contained a dash of selfishness and a hint of exaggeration wouldn’t be a lie, Draco wanted to see to Harry (about his pathetic letter) but couldn’t summon the fortitude to sit and write a summons of his own.Harry, ever gracious, arrived that night. Shattered and yawning but still more pleasant than the people Draco dealt with earlier.“You really like him then?” Harry had asked, stupidly and without any thought as Draco allowed Decimus to curl up and use his lap as some sort of crup headrest despite him being far too big to be a lapdog. Decimus still tried to squeeze over.Draco had a hypothesis about Potter, no surprise there. Absolutely, positively sure Harry hadn’t a clue the value of a crup. Fucking absolutely clueless in regards to their standing and sheer adoration by the majority of all of the Wizarding World and in particular by Draco himself.He hadn’t just wanted one as a boy, he’d been utterly disappointed to be a Malfoy when he’d found out. Madness.“The way Neville was talking, I thought they were a bit more...”When no explanation followed, Draco lingered. “More?”“Small. Snappy.” As if to illustrate the point, Decimus yawned, squeaking as if its jaw needed oiled, showing off its fine teeth. “I don’t think it likes me much.”Considering the last to apparate into the grounds was Pansy, perhaps the crup was trying to protect him. Or perhaps… He spied Lotty scowling from the door at Harry, her head half-through it. Lotty was never the most subtle of the house-elves, but certainly the most loyal.“Don’t be stupid, sit down.”Harry on the other hand acted as if the crup was more another Voldemort to be defeated. Only for him to freeze whenever Decimus turned to look at him. Whatever Harry was doing, be that working or sleeping or trying to mend the damage his lack of care caused his friends, Draco couldn’t know for sure. But he was hardly here and Draco had considered the crup a farewell gift.Really, if Draco could guess – hope and fret muddled together – Harry was close to finding Blaise, to locking up Theodore and kill the dreaded idea they’d reappear for good.“Are you scared of him?”“Of his teeth, sure.” While Harry and the crup proceeded to have a staring contest Draco played with its floppy ears. Who could ever think this crup was intimidating? Large he may be, but the crup didn’t have the affinity of guarding much. Lotty stole his bowl and the beast had cried at his feet never mind exact revenge on the snippy house-elf.“It’s definitely giving me a look.”“It’s a crup, not a crazed hippogriff.” Or house-elf. Lotty had removed her head from the door and set up a sign, a blanket refusal for anyone with glasses to come through.“I’d prefer Buckbeak and he wasn’t crazed.”“Who? Look sit down, you’re being ridiculous, it isn’t going to do anything.”He’d have a word with her soon, though doing that with Potter here might be dangerous. He must not find out his lack of ability to write these days.Still refusing to move Harry said, “I think I bought you a demon.” Decimus’ tails wagged furiously. He wasn’t going to sit down soon if something didn’t give.Since their time seemed limited, Draco sighed. Fine.“Decimus, down. Go to the gardens. Search for that annoying one again.” The crup’s weight shifted, though its tails continued to thump against its hind legs as it trotted away.“Thanks,” Harry mumbled, a touch of embarrassment colouring his neck. Being well, with Potter was an idea always challenged by reality. For one, Draco assumed after having a time away from affection meant Harry’d be starved and eager for whatever Draco threw his way. Astoria was like that, Pansy had been like that.If anything, it was the exact opposite.Harry Potter was still, very annoying.Even now, Harry had sat closer to him in Potions class than on this bloody couch and Draco scowled. What was going on? Hot and cold, affectionate and indifferent the next. Ginny didn’t put up with this, did she? How did Potter ever marry?“So… Was wondering if you wanted to try another Muggle place.”Any time outside of this Manor was well spent. Not so fast. He straightened the cuff of his robes. He had standards.“I refuse if it contains more grease-filled food.”“Just curious on how’d you react to a roller coaster. Do you know what they are?”“Never heard of it.”“Exactly. Great.” Harry smiled.A devious smile, that one. It sprang up on his face in a manner more akin to a pixie about to steal eyes than Harry planning a date. What was a roller-coaster? The only coaster he knew of was the one to place tea on. Why did Muggles’ coasters roll? It would make drinking tea terribly difficult.“Muggle clothing, if you can. Probably best nothing too loose or flashy.”Draco refused to acknowledge the trousers Harry wore. Dark blue and – it wasn’t possible to squeeze into those without magic - and yet, they were without a doubt Mugglewear.“Very well.”Draco wasn’t sure where he was going but he followed Harry instructions as best as he could. Muggles wore suits but Harry backtracked on that one fast. What a pest. They were terrible dressers, transfigurating yet more clothing Draco huffed whenever Harry made a comment.“This better be worth it.”They Floo’d. Somewhere more up North is what Harry had said.Nothing really could prepare Draco for this place. Upon arriving, at what Harry named a ‘Theme park’, Draco wasn’t entirely sure what the theme could ever be, perhaps some sort of scenic torture for the sadomasochistic types. He could hear the screaming, the shrieking and shouting from here and the odd metal railway which looped round – all the way over itself – it all seemed impossible without magic. How could they build such metal snakes without it?Queues upon queues of Muggles, more than Draco thought possible. And all of them were here, more than Draco had ever fathomed. Was there a festival of some sort on?“How do the Muggles not notice they’re upside down?” He asked as a cart flip and the Muggles screamed and laughed. Before he could see a specific person’s reaction they were gone, shooting and whizzing down the track left and right.“They know. It’s not magic, Draco.”“They don’t have those...” Draco forgot the word, motioned for what he meant.“Seatbelts? Yeah, no, you get a harness. The black bit over them, look, that’s what makes sure you don’t fall out.”“But, we’re going upside down, aren’t we?” How one of those could stop anyone from falling out when they were directly the opposite of the right way begged far too many questions. Should he be worried or not? Harry didn’t seem too fussed and in a show of bravado, neither was he.Muggle children were here and if Muggles could do it, then so could he. And in true British fashion, Muggleborn, Half-Blood or Pureblood, they queued quietly though loathed every second of it with silent brooding. Some people tried to push by him and before Draco told these Muggles how queuing worked – at least in the Wizarding World - he was stabbed in the ribs by a bony elbow. He couldn’t tell why these two were allowed to jump ahead but Harry and the rest tolerated the skipping.Duels to the death had occurred for less. Well, Draco bit his tongue as he nudged back and saw Harry freeze and look away from him again. Interesting reaction, if only it didn’t supply him with more evidence Harry regretted everything.Was it novelty? Taking the Death Eater amongst the Muggles, to brag and laugh over a FireWhiskey down at the pub? Harry sipping at some sweet drink and look innocent – as he was – and Draco couldn't stop the thought which had taken root, gnarled and poisoned.He blamed Blaise for his doubt. This doubt which rose up to discredit everyone. No matter how long he spoke to Matthews, overcoming the betrayal was yet still too far out of reach. Everyone was untrustworthy now. Glancing back over him, Harry tapping on his phone again, Draco doubted the man could even conjure the idea of stabbing someone in the back.Draco cursed again. He wanted to look more closely at the Muggle trousers. But he wouldn’t be caught. He couldn’t handle that. They were weird, jinxed to make him look.Harry smiled. Not one of those tight and controlled ones that the papers snapped, not a forced one where Harry didn’t want to talk to his loved ones and wanted to drop a subject. He was happy here, right now. Not to be caught staring, Merlin he didn’t need to hear the end of that line of teasing, Draco took to looking at everything else.Muggles of all ages, kids not even up to Draco’s knees ran around with balloons, teenagers shrieking as they seemed to be soaked by a ride they’d chosen – why, did they not see the water before getting on? - and a wave of people whenever a ride stopped. Every now and then, even standing in place Draco would get a whiff of food. Unsure of what it was, meat-wise he couldn’t be sure but--“They’ve got the puffs here too.” He pulled a few times on Harry’s elbow to motion towards the glass container, more puffs than Draco had ever seen. Were they a staple in Muggle life? Why hadn’t the Wizarding World adopted these along with the plumbing?“If you’re feeling okay after this, we’ll go get some.”“Feeling okay? Why? What’s going to happen?”The smile, the near sneer Draco remembered from school – the same smarmy look – was back. He knew something Draco didn’t.“You’ve seen what happens. Are you alright? We can go on another one.”“I’m not scared of a Mu--” Draco stopped as a family pushed by, though this time some grumbled and a few Muggles ended up too close to discuss anything but the mundane. Nervous at the wait, the sight where people would line up and submit themselves to this. Draco was eager to sit down. Even if it was some sort of torture device, the seats weren’t terribly comfy.The announcement of making sure the harness was fastened and having a Muggle roughhouse it hiked the adrenaline up. What if it wasn’t? Was he going to die? What safety precautions did Muggles really have to save someone falling out of this-- clinking of metal underneath him made him freeze. And slow, the ascend into the sky. Dragons shouldn’t be made of segmented metal.In the end, Draco did not fall off. Neither did he make a noise unlike the Muggles behind or in front of him, keen to puncture a lung through the screaming effort alone.“I’m disappointed you didn’t scream your face off. But I think that’s our last roller coaster for a while.” Draco ignored the consoling pat on his back.“Seeker remember.” Well aware his legs were much to like the consistency of custard, Draco wobbled and made his way as fast as he could to a nearby bench. Harry happy to smile at his woeful acting in being completely fine.Everything was fine. His stomach must be around here somewhere.Muggles were absolutely barmy with their clothing and their entertainment. If something had gone wrong, Draco could have – to the grave with the Act of Secrecy – turned into an owl and saved himself. But them? To go on that willingly? For fun? Barmy, absolutely mental, all of them.“Now, puffs, hurry up.” Draco shooed him away with shaky hands, unlike Potter he did not have any available funds for Muggle activities. Harry laughed and leaving Draco to swear under his breath as he left. It wasn’t possible, it wasn’t right for Muggles to come up with this ‘fashion’.Maybe they made a few decent inventions every few centuries. He never had much time to watch Muggles. They seemed… like funny looking wizards and witches, he supposed. Minus the horrid fashion sense; why was everything so tightly fit?When was the last time he’d simply sat outside? Public and waiting and not worried over the next comment said to him. The fact of losing himself in a crowd was by far a joyous occasion. Draco soaked in it, relieved to see those who looked at him hadn’t a flicker of resentment or recognition. Invisible without the need of Harry’s cloak. Draco Malfoy lost in a crowd of Muggles. Ha.Returning with his quarry, Harry held up the puffs in victory and Draco said nothing as he set about having something to fill the nauseous void in his stomach. Whether it was to fill his own mouth, Harry nattered and Draco listened, an occasional hum here and there.“We came here before but James ended up showing his… abilities so we had to leave. Never came back, didn’t seem to have the time.” Wiping his hands on those blue monstrosities Draco most definietly disliked, Harry sighed. “Was worried we were too old for this.”‘Excuse me?’ Draco paused in eating, watched Harry and his lies. “We aren’t even passed the middle-aged mark yet.”“In the mundane terms we’re--”“We’re not mundane. We’ve a few decades to go at least before we’re...” Scrunching up his nose, Draco had to force out the words. “...old.”“We are old.”“Older. And I’ll hear no mention of this again.”“Sure.”Good. Draco wasn’t entirely comfortable with dealing with his own mortality and remembering Harry had actually died once already – no. He’d rather take and live his days than sit and count them.“Just thought after that performance those old bones could use some help walking.”“I have no idea what you mean.” Harry was about to explain, no doubt and Draco hadn’t a clue how he’d retaliate. “And that’s all I’ll hear on this matter.”Harry never knew when to shut up.“Gotta get that hearing checked out too?”“I’m going to drown you in the fountain any more of this, ‘old’ bit you’ve got going on.” Potter seemed to take this threat like most others, with a laugh and nonsensical bluster.A ride caught Draco’s attention, this time not out of speed or the noise it generated. But how the ride never seemed to actually stop, people got on and off, timing well enough to scuttle inside.“That one’s not going fast.”“It’s a Ferris Wheel. It’s--”“Mighty dull.” Crunch, crunch, crunch. He could really eat the whole glass box of these. Why the Wizarding world hadn’t caught onto this food was a mystery.No one would buy food from a Malfoy. Would it be possible to buy a stockpile of these for himself? The machine required electricity didn’t it? Bah, Muggles.“It’s got some meaning as a romantic ride, see.” Harry tried not to outright point at the Muggle couple who were clinging onto each other so tightly it was comical watching them trying to get into the metal box itself. Oh. More of those strange blue not-trousers.Well, he and Harry wouldn’t be doing that any time soon.“How is it romantic to sit in a cage?” Draco continued through his box – yet another box, Muggles and their boxes! - of puffs."Because you’re together with someone you like? It’s like, intimate and quiet and isolated.” Harry started strong but ended up mumbling the rest as another crowd walked by filled with teenagers discussing topics Draco didn’t understand.“I could take us into a broom closet, that hardly makes the closet romantic.” Harry ended up red in the face and sipping onto whatever bizarre drink Muggles drank. It smelt like fizz and sugar.“Really?”Draco shrugged. “I’m not the one thinking about a broom closet in the middle of Muggles.”“Hurry up and finish your popcorn.” Harry shoved his shoulder with his own. It didn’t take long for them to start wandering around the place, Draco finishing his box of puffs in record time.He couldn't control it any longer. "What are these monstrosities exactly?" He scowled at them. Harry didn't get it. Not at all. Draco stabbed him in the thigh with a finger."Oh, jeans? They're pretty standard. You must've seen me wear these before? At Hogwarts and stuff?""A common monstrosity, good to know." "But, you've been--""Shut up.""Won't say a word." Smug Potter always made him feel like he'd lost.And was it just him or was it even busier now? Draco wandered and Harry followed without complaint. Every ride, every single one – even those for the younger children seemed to have lines longer than the one Draco and Harry had just queued at.Draco saw it then, as he slipped his hand between Harry and took hold of his forearm, pulled him gently to the side and let the woman with a contraption which stored her children inside like some deformed pram on by. She smiled, grateful and shuffled on, calling out names. Harry had twitched his fingers but so far remained entirely still, staring at a sign on the wall it couldn’t have taken him that long to read.“Harry?”Holding and squeezing at his forearm, Harry stilled, like he was a rabbit waiting, still and ever listening. What for? Draco decided to test yet another hypothesis of his about Potter. He let go, walked off and refused to mention it even as Harry and his infamous stare followed, the same unblinking attention Draco was used to, ever fond, ever conscious and ever curious to see.Draco decided to cut the day short only because Harry himself apparently wanted to eat his weight in hot dogs and the most horrid pink stuff ever created.“If you dare ever, I mean ever, try and give me this – this fluff – again, it’s not food – it’s disgusting – and it’s sticky – why is it sticky? Merlin, this is the worst – Shut your mouth, Potter.”“I need to open it to eat, Malfoy.” Harry and took another pinch of the horrid fluffy sugar in retaliation.“Do you always need the last word?”“No. Do you?”“No. But I’m not kissing you with that taste in your mouth.” Harry shrugged, kept eating his abomination and Draco sulked. Plan failed. “Now my hands are sticky. You arse, don’t laugh at me. It’s disgusting. It’s not even food. Whoever came up with this needs an Oblivate to the face.”Harry grabbed his hand, sticky too. Urgh. Along with the wind a gust seemed to carry away the sensation from both leaving no trace behind.“Show off, that's what you are.”Draco shook his hand, the tingling magic not yet dissipated. He ignored the triumphant idiot and the whispers he could totally snog Harry out here, with the Muggles who didn’t know who they were, who would never see them again. Draco kept his eyes on the exit.With the rain threatening overhead - and there was no way Draco would ever attach himself to an ‘umbrella’ - they left before the showers turned into a full blown storm.Draco shook his head, running a hand through his hair checking to make sure the rain hadn’t made it rat tailed and awful. Harry could wander around with bad hair all he liked.“That was fun.” Harry admitted and seemed to scuff his shoes at the already scuffed marble of the Manor.“Fun. Trying to assault me with pink sugar was fun. Noted.”“It wasn’t that bad.”“The candyfloss, yes. Everything else was… Well. I didn’t realise Muggles paid to be tortured en masse.” Draco slipped out of the magically altered clothing and returned to the comfort of his robes. Harry didn’t even pretend to look elsewhere and Draco rolled his eyes. What a Muggle reaction, he hadn’t even shown a speck of skin and--His nostrils flared like a spooked horse and he snapped, “You’re a git, how hard’s it to say you had a good time out?”“Pout all you want, Potter.” Teasing Harry was all good and typical and comfortable – so familiar – but seeing Harry’s disdain over planning the day and feeling underappreciated wasn’t a win in any regards.If Astoria had taught him anything: the good never stayed long enough.“It was decent. Interesting. I’ll give you that one.” He leaned in and Harry tasted of sugar.His attention was taken by the crup wiggling and trying its best to squeeze between his legs and Harry’s.“Decimus, I was hardly gone that long.” The crup sat at attention, accusing him with big brown eyes.“You’re like a combination of everything I love and hate.” Emotional blackmail from a pet. Honestly. Draco huffed, gave the beast his full attention. (The ears were far too fluffy and soft to be left alone, the crup knew this).And there it was again. A muddle of emotion as if Potter was wearing all of them, trying to find the one which fit best on his face.“Right,” Harry said.Only… Curiosity: a terrible thing indeed. The expression was too much of a curiosity. What had caused that? The pet? The kiss? The admission, yes Draco did enjoy his time outside with Muggles all around?Now Draco had to know.First and second and third and fourth time out, again and again, Draco would touch Harry without any intention beyond it. A hand at his back, moving Harry aside, and how tense he’d go, how terribly intense those eyes turned on him and not a word when Draco moved away. Repeatedly, Draco set to fixing Harry’s hair – an impossible task, they both knew – but Harry would find it confusing, as if he’d never once voiced how much the hair needed some attention. He always touched at his own hair afterwards like he suspected foul play or a prank awaiting upon his head. Draco would be lying through his teeth if he suggested Harry looked unhappy at this.Days went by and every time Harry arrived, Draco made a point to touch him, platonic at most. A fix of the collar of his terribly pressed Auror robes, a squeezing hug which did not result in a snogging session no matter how Harry looked at him after. A double-check on if Harry was okay after his newly made batch of potions. All of it showed the same confusion on Harry’s face when Draco left after.Each and every time, Harry would give him the same look, mixed up and confused, nearing hurt. If not for the stark shock of indifference which crossed his face moments later. A hint of anger. What even was this? Would Harry say what was in that head of his – but that would be a defeat. Draco had to figure it out first, before Harry figured out what he wanted.So, Draco kept doing it and the more he did it, the more elated he became. More and more, Draco was never rejected, pushing his luck at Harry’s hidden home away from home in Knockturn.“What are you doing? You’re up to something,” Harry asked on the second week of Draco’s experiment after he had taken to leaning over Harry’s shoulder at whatever he was cooking.Potter could cook, and out of everything, Draco hadn’t actually ever watched a person do so. Not like this, not all Muggle-like and having to cut up the meat with a knife. A knife! An actual blade! Like he was making a potion! Should Draco be this close? Did Harry have the skills necessary? The butter hissed in the pan, melting.Harry was red. Flaming red. Redder than a Gryffindor uniform as Draco set his chin on Harry’s shoulder. “Always a sure fire to get your attention.”“Really.” He might have gulped and went all tense again, but whatever noise he’d just made was more likely because of Draco’s fingers tracing over the grooves of Harry’s back. The Muggle clothing Harry wore was always so very thin. “I’m trying to cook dinner here.”“I have a question for you. It’s what I’ve been thinking these last few days.” Turning one of the dials, Harry set aside the task of cooking but did not turn around.“Was there a question in there somewhere?” The snark wasn’t missed and Draco laughed, short and quiet as he stopped his prodding momentarily. Could Harry feel his cold hands through or was he burning too hot to even notice?“How long have you hidden you’re a sap?”“Maybe my hearing’s going too. What’d you say?”“You freeze, you know, when I randomly touch you. And I might’ve stopped but you pull this face when I do.” Trying to mimic the expression, the sheer hilarity of it threatened to undo his grand act. Harry only glanced his way.“I do not.” Harry whipped his attention and scowled at the pan.“A great, hulking, sulking sap.” Draco highlighted each syllable with a nudge to Harry’s back. Harry bristled, remaining silent. Another nudge and for once, Draco didn’t try and quieten his laughter. “You were disappointed.” Tap, tap, slide, up the ridges of his spine. “Disappointed I’d stopped.”“I swear, Malfoy. You either stop this or you starve.” Harry may have wielded the wooden spoon like a weapon but Draco left the kitchen, laughing, if he had his proper robes on they’d have billowed dramatically behind him. However, Harry’s defeated slump at the stove was far more ego stroking than a classy exit.Granted when it was served, the smell was greater than the taste. The seating were less comfy and using the only space left in the living room which wasn’t covered in files and stacks of boxes. Draco wasn’t entirely sure he’d ever had a meal sitting on the floor. Harry didn’t seem to mind.The couch was used as a support for their backs and stacked upon it, boxes labelled ‘LIV’ and ‘KIT’ in thick blocky ink. Harry had clearly forgotten he was a wizard again. Decorum dictated he should ignore this awful presentation and gossip about it to others later.Draco poked at his food like a child being told to eat something green. Well, Harry was eating it. And Draco couldn’t let him win over him again.Even if it was decent Draco would not say it, else Lotty refuse to ever cook for him again. Decent. The rice was undercooked, hard in the middle. Still better than the Muggle food he’d been assaulted with before.Cutlery clattered loud against Harry’s plate. Unhappy at a glance.“You don’t have to eat it.”“You made it for me, didn’t you? Or do you have someone else waiting in the shadows?”“Very funny. I mean it.”Something itched over his nerves at that end of that statement. Repeated. Unfeeling. Arrogant Potter was a pest but this, this reminded Draco of what Harry revealed before. A time when maybe the arrogance was more a defence. This wasn’t about the food sucking, was it?“Where’s your usual Potter bravado you can do no wrong? Is it the rice? Is rice your limit? Snogging me at my political bash, fine, running around saving everyone, tolerable,” Draco waved his fork around, the sarcasm nearly enough to push him over, “but undercooked rice? I can’t even look at it, how could you?”“You’re enjoying this.”So, Draco continued and giggled over his glass of wine and ‘spoiled’ food. Really, Draco had been in many restaurants and there were times, a rare and noteworthy moment where it wasn’t perfection.“I might never cook a meal for you again.”Sneering, Draco adored the way Harry curled more into himself at the lie as he set his plate beside him, empty. “Like you don’t burn to prove you know how to cook rice.”In rebellion Harry yet again took some of Draco’s food with his own fork. He seemed to chew slowly as if mulling over what to say next. And Draco hadn’t a clue why but his heart might have grown wings and bought a trampoline at the memory of the last food theft. He’d been used to Harry freezing near him for weeks now.“Like you could do better.”It was so easy, closing his eyes and ignoring reality. “I bet I could.” Draco was finding it very difficult to concentrate on the words Harry’s mouth was forming.“Without magic?” Harry squinted. “Do you even make your own food with magic?”“Lotty cooks and as such this bet will never reach her ears, neither its result.” Grabbing more of the red wine, infused with some elderberry of the magical kind, Draco tried to drown the voice which told him this was the worst idea ever. He was going to blow up the kitchen, no, the house. And he’d never hear the end of it.Harry grinned and Draco wanted to snog the smugness off his face. Make him forget this giant hole he’d dug himself.“Deal.”Fuck.“And when I win--”Fuck.“You have to do something for me.”What could Harry possibly want from him? A whisper, a stray thought Draco would never admit to having – they appeared throughout his days, some more nonsensical than others – oh no. He sneered too uncomfortable at the idea even Harry would betray his trust.“It’s not going to be some weird sex thing, is it?” Harry blinked at him and his worries. Followed swiftly by howling, unabashed laughter as Draco debated whether he should just use this as an opportunity to see if apparating to Wales might be more achievable from this distance.“No. Wait. What popped into your--”Draco sniffed, annoyed he’d drank all his wine and now had nothing to detract from answering fully. “I’m not going to lose, Potter, that’s all. I don’t want you to get ahead of yourself.”Merlin, why did he do this to himself?He worked out what Hermione would need in terms of gifts in order to teach him to cook Muggle-style. He would use the learning Muggle things as his angle instead of beating Potter and rubbing his face in it. But seeing Hermione would mean talking about everything else. Someone else, anyone else then.“You’re going to lose. And pre-made microwave meals don’t count.”Nodding, Draco agreed without a word. Good. He hadn’t the foggiest what a bloody pre-made microwave was. Shifting, Draco scowled. Bloody pins-and-needles already. The pain overtook the need to be polite.“You’re clearing this bloody couch before I do anything. I refuse to sit here any longer. Did you forget you can shrink these when they take up room?”Harry fiddled with his glasses. “No?” Before Draco could ask about his magic, if his Will was okay or if there were any lasting side effects from the potions Harry continued, “Guess I’m just used to doing everything the Muggle way.” He scooped up the plates, “Including these.”What?That was a joke. An unfunny joke. Pushing himself up to follow, Draco didn’t believe it. Until he saw it, Harry shoved them into the sink. He actually saw it. With his eyes. Water sloshed about as the plates slid under the bubbles.“You-- You wash your own dishes? By hand?” Draco did not witness Muggle chores and he wasn’t sure Harry was doing them right. Soapy water and submerging his hands? It couldn’t actually, be done by hand. Every dish and plate? Everything?“Harry. This is--” By hand? Really?Amused, Harry didn’t stop. In fact this seemed to be of great entertainment to him. Why, how could washing dishes like this ever be entertaining? He even had to put the still soaked plate up on its side and the soap dripped down. They weren’t even dry yet!What was going on?“Just so you know, I refuse to do this sort of manual labour.” Standing by, Harry seemed far too happy over washing dishes. He didn’t understand at all. Muggles were all mad. Harry was mad. “Ever.”“You said you’d cook.” Harry shook his head, eyes far too bright. “Backing down already?”That grin - it was a reflex, automatic and out of Draco’s mouth before he could stop himself. “No, of course not.”And Harry laughed Draco out of kitchen.“Circe,” he whispered. Curling up into himself might be dramatic, too telling to Potter if he saw it but… How was he supposed to cook a Muggle meal? How much trouble had his pride landed him in so far? “I’m so fucked.” There had to be a way out of this.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Before his courage failed him, Draco opened up the jewellery box. Peering inside, wayward fibres stuck in a mess of metal. He sat down at the sight of it. More like a furball of metal than a once priceless heirloom. Had it been so ugly before? No glimmer of what it used to be or what it once meant.If it reacted to his guilt it might be impossible to pick up by hand. What a terrible fate for a wedding ring. It must leave this house, he had to return it to Astoria in some bizarre act of appeasement. In case. In case ruining this might revive her in rage and upset. And Draco could handle his wife dead and passed on but not returned, unable to rest because Draco had pinned his own misery to her.“I have nothing to feel guilty about,” Draco snapped, when his thoughts twisted to Blaise, to Theo and Pansy. To those who should feel guilty.He hadn’t thought much of Astoria on the days Harry joined him. Maybe this was enough for the metal to burn anew? He licked his lips and quickly tapped onto the metal. Cold. Nothing bubbling yet. Another tap, another touch. And taking the last vestige of bravery he scooped it up in his palm and waited. It sat innocent and shiny in his hand.So Draco returned it to Astoria before his mind turned on him, using the Floo in a rushed mess where he kept his eyes purely on the ring.He crouched low by her grave, the photographs dark in the early morning.“I hope you aren’t angry.”Sitting the mess at the foot of her grave seemed insulting and Draco pushed it under the dirt in hopes to shield his parents prying eyes to his newest gift.“It’s all Potter’s fault.” He snorted at the line. “You made everything easy. Potter certainly doesn’t. He’s a mess.” If Astoria were to ever converse with him, it would be to argue that point. “I’m a mess too, yes. Thanks for that,” Draco replied to the phantom in his head. It helped to think she was listening, still interested in his living.He wiped at the stone not satisfied with the half-sheen. “Scorpius has try-outs today. I swear, he didn’t get that ridiculous move from me. If he uses it, I’ll probably join you soon. He’ll break his neck one of these days. Everyone says how great kids are but no one ever mentions how terrifying it is.”The words on her grave didn’t move.“It’s okay, isn’t it?” Regretting it as soon as it caught the air. What he wanted would never happen, Astoria was gone. She could never give him permission. Astoria was gone and she would want him to move on and not sulk, not ‘be lonely’. They’d always promised one another to be each other’s world against the world. To have each other and have no one else matter. And Draco missed the assurance.What problems, baggage and all would come of him and Harry was still unknown.Was this him simply clinging onto Harry because he was lonely and Harry unto him because he was hurt and Draco soothed the nightmares with potions? Draco wasn’t sure when he would be able to tell otherwise.“I miss you.” He closed his eyes and thought on her again. Another sigh, the last for today. “Right. Enough moping. Scorpius will be waiting. I’ll let him tell you how he does.” Draco left before his parents caught wind of him. Knowing them, they probably knew this random visit was not for them and stayed put.His morning was a busy one. Making his way to the makeshift Quidditch pitch struck him with a sense of longing. How much time had passed since the last he’d ridden a broom? By now the air was crisp and the humidity seeped the coldness deep into his skin.No one bothered to speak with him. As witches and wizards wandered the grounds, the energy put Draco on edge. Brooms zooming overhead, nervous chatter all round. Where was Scorpius? He scanned the faces but couldn’t see him. Still getting changed into his riding gear? Or bragging about the latest broom purchase to whomever would listen?Checking the time yet again, Draco couldn’t wait much longer. The crowd became too rowdy and Draco would rather not hear what they thought of him or his son. Someone stood next to him and he refused to flinch, to look at them at all, and fidgeted with his pocket watch.“Mr. Malfoy.” Albus shifted about, unsure whether to look him in the eye or stay staring at his shoes.Oh. Just Albus. Draco put away the watch.“Albus.” People pushed by them as they stood apart, awkward at the bottom of the Quidditch stands. It was unlikely a proper game would be played but many people had come to keep an eye on the new blood, cheer on family and friends or jot down names which might be good enough to write a quick column about.Draco hadn’t considered how his relations with Potter’s kids would go, not after everything was said and done. Albus followed him up the stands where they both sat, both scowling at the wizard who was talking far too loudly about his own son being the best. Only for yet more people to jump in and brag about their own children. Draco found himself wishing the stands empty as someone took the seat at his other side.The pitch was filled with dozens of young witches and wizards, all in their own circles chatting. Going by the circle of hulking brutes, thick as trees, those must be the potential new Beaters.Glancing at the boy, though no longer a boy – Draco would always remember Albus as a child, eager to overeat sweets with Scorpius in his kitchen. “Don’t fidget. You’re forgiven or did you forget?”“I’m really sorry.” The smile was painful to even look at.“I don’t need nor want your guilt you brat.”Across the way, the other stands were near bursting. The press and the scouts of teams fighting for the best vantage points. Was it okay to be nervous for Scorpius? To want him to do well and not know for certain? How was Scorpius’ flying these days? He hadn’t seen him play in years. Him being here wasn’t going to distract the boy too much, was it? Maybe he should leave? Glancing back the exit was crowded, too many people in the stands already. Other people moved behind him to sit higher and Draco shifted in his seat again.Scorpius was chatting well, going by the grin on his face in his own Seeker circle. Two dozen people were within it. The numbers weren’t on his side. He seemed to be teasing a young man who was petite with red hair going by how he kept trying to lean on his head with an arm. Less reach but less weight to worry over. Scorpius was doing what Draco would have done, though was no doubt being nicer in regards to the insecurity.“When is Scorpius playing?” Draco leaned forward to see the Keepers and Seekers moving off the grounds. How long would this take? How long until someone here noticed him?“Beaters and Chasers first, then Keepers then Scorpius’ll be up.”“Anyone decent?”Without missing a beat Albus answered, “No one who’ll beat Scorpius.” And it brought a relieved smile to Draco’s face. At least he didn’t need to worry about these two any more. Draco would give his son anything. However friendship wasn’t something he could ever buy or bribe in Scorpius’ stead.The announcer shut the stands up but only for as long as they spoke.“Beaters, get on yer brooms and Chasers, ye get own too. The rest o’ye go sit down fer a bit!”Unlike the Quidditch matches in Hogwarts, there was no booing here. Only whooping and awing, only cheering and gossip. And gasps. The Beaters were brutal. Three Chasers were injured and one in particular goaded Scorpius on the ground. Draco loathed the little shit already.The Chasers which remained unharmed were better, more agile on their brooms but Draco couldn’t say he was watching them with much interest. Hurry up and get Scorpius in the air.“My dad was saying you make him potions. Could I make them?”The Seekers were halved, the rest up in the air searching for Snitches the other half grounded all while the Keepers took to defending the hoops.It only took five minutes for the first Seeker to snatch it out the air and triumphantly set the tone for the others. It was quick, too quick and Draco tried to see how Scorpius took the news.“Hogwarts didn’t bore you enough with potions?”Scorpius didn’t seem bothered. Grinning like a loon.“I want to apprentice with someone who isn’t going to just see me for who my dad is.”So, already an apprentice. Good. Draco nodded. For just out of Hogwarts it was nothing to mock. Having a father so well known as Harry Potter might have made the match a little easier. Snorting, Draco wanted to unpack how only a fool would brag about anything ‘Harry Potter’ near any active brews. After the war, Draco couldn’t so much as sit his N.E.W.T.s. In turn he could never become an apprentice to any potion master worth their title.“That’s nigh impossible. Your potions work. Your father on the other hand could destroy any mixture simply by being in close proximity.”The Snitch was released again. Looks like they didn’t believe the catch was anything but a fluke. Draco might agree with that assessment, even Potter got lucky in their first match.Draco inhaled sharply, tense and sick all at once. Scorpius the chickenpox mad leper decided not only to do that ridiculous move, but narrowly missed colliding with one of the stands. How many times did Draco have to say people had to sit on the broom properly instead of flinging himself around and hoping it’d still be under him? Spines were not supposed to bend that way.“He’s fine,” Albus said, worrying all the same.It was only when Scorpius raised his hand, showing off his catch did the crowd cheer. If his goal was to make light of the first Seeker, he was winning so far with the crowd. The onlooking scouts meant nothing.What a show off indeed.“He doesn’t think he’ll ever fall, does he?” Draco said it to no one but at the sheer recklessness. Albus nodded, started biting the skin around his nails.What many teams would want to hire someone so keen to through himself into the air? So haphazard in his own safety, no one would want to pay Galleons for someone so likely to be injured after each play.Yet he got another – less acrobatic and more through his bullheaded approach to Quidditch. Him and the Seeker from before, the short redhead, kept elbowing each other. It was only the extra few inches which gave it to Scorpius.Draco shouldn’t have come here; this would have him faint. Although, it would be a lie, an awful twisting lie if he ever said he was disappointed by how Scorpius handled himself. Scorpius was much better at Quidditch than Draco could ever have hoped to be.The end didn’t come fast enough. And while Draco was pleased the stands bled out and left him and Albus alone up here away from the crowds, he couldn’t wait longer. Not when he saw his son’s face pop up by the stairs.“Dad! How awesome was I?” He grinned, face wind-bitten and soaked in sweat. Honestly, the brat might faint and Draco ruffled his damp hair and pulled him closer because that stupid move kept replaying in his head. Scorpius would be the death of him. Merlin, he might propose banning the move to Hermione as general health and safety. She loved that stuff.“As if I expected anything less.”Albus gave them space to chatter as they descended, only answering Scorpius’ boasting with more praise.It was only when Scorpius fell back Draco could hear them whispering again. The same paranoia reminded him of the time they’d charmed hedges to scare the press that sat outside the Manor one year. Whispering was never good when it came to the both of them.He wasn’t going to have to talk about him and Potter – right now, on his own? Merlin. No. He couldn’t handle that line of questioning.“Do I want to know what you two are up to?”“Dad,” Scorpius drawled and how awful a word it was at times. As soon as Draco turned to acknowledge him, Scorpius puffed up and started, “Albus needs someone to teach him with potions. And I might be in a real Quidditch team going all over and not being able to see you and, and you know, you both wouldn’t be stuck here.”Albus was again, trying not to look him in the eye. Apparently Draco’s silence hadn’t been taken as a blank refusal. What good would teaching Albus some potions do? Perhaps he could show the kid how to make the potions for Harry – and maybe it might help mediate between the two. It was no secret to anyone who knew Harry that his relationship with Albus was at times frayed and worn like an old blanket.What a preposterous plan. “Albus, hurry up and get a girlfriend. My son’s turning into a mother hen worrying you’ll be on your own.”“That’s not it!” He squawked while Albus coughed behind his fist, trying to hide his laughter.For a while, a shared drink at the Leaky, more boasting from Scorpius ended the afternoon well enough. At least, Draco assumed it well until his son started to puff up again like a peacock ready to charge. Urgh, boy. Not again.“Scorpius. Enough.”“I want you to teach Albus. No one bothers because of his dad. They just waltz around and tell people they’ve got a Potter apprentice.” It was the whine that grated on his nerves. He could hear his old self in there somewhere, complaining the world wasn’t revolving around him.“He’s hardly going to fare better with me – Deatheater as his instructor.”“They told him to clean beakers for an hour!” A little odd but not unheard of, Snape tended to use cleaning as a punishment.“Taking care of equipment is necessary.” Draco was sure if he shot down everything Scorpius deemed unfair – and as a spoiled Pureblood who’d had a rough introduction to schooling – he would stop, eventually.“Albus already knows that. That old fart is doing it to be a pain.”“Or he’s teaching him not to overlook the basics.”“Please, Dad. Go see for yourself. It’s not fair.”“Life isn’t fair.”“He made him write out the entire tome of ‘Potion Brewing for Confuddled Beginners’, we both know Albus would learn nothing from that.”“I’m not interfering.”“Dad.” Draco closed his eyes. How could a word be both be the most annoying winey noise ever created and also a word he was pleased over? “Please, just check. Albus isn’t having fun. With potions. Something has to be wrong!”“If Albus needs help from anyone he can ask his father.”“Albus got told to suck it up.” Scorpius deflated. “Sometimes I don’t like Mr. Potter. He treats Albus different.”It would be easier for Harry to bond with someone like Lily or James who were similar and within the same little Hogwarts House. Albus, an outlier, by his own words didn’t hold his father as highly as his siblings. All of that, and it was still none of their business.“Scorpius.”“Forget it.” His son sulked and left without another word.Right. Well, Draco huffed to himself, the disappointment on his son’s face annoying him. Now, he needed a distraction. Finding someone to help with this Muggle cooking couldn’t go amiss. And he was supposed to deal with the lack of apothecary that would resupply him the necessary ingredients for Potter’s potions.“Lotty, bring me more parchment!”She paraded in with several inches of different parchment, dyes and stamps all arranged neatly as Draco sat down to work out what plants were involved with the current mixture. He’d always hated herbology.Unable to write more than a few words, Draco instead hunted his prey and found it in the Leaky in the late evening. Alone and still wearing the terrible scarf which wound round his neck like a python threatening to smother. It wasn’t too busy and the furniture behaved as he weaved between the tables.“Neville.” Draco didn’t wait for an invitation to sit down opposite him. He sat, took off his cloak and shot him a look. Neville took it very Gryffindorly, in that he did not so much as twitch at the appearance of someone unexpected.“Guess you need something?” Neville sat his half empty pint down and Draco loathed the question. How did he word this without having Neville run away and alert Harry? How did he ask for a favour when he held no cards over Neville’s head? Especially considering if anything, Neville’s knowledge was far more dangerous to Draco than vice versa.“Help, yes.” The word was bitter on his tongue. Better ask in person than admit he couldn’t ask over letter. “Muggle things and potion ingredients.” He wished Neville had stayed his usual relaxed self but upon hearing Muggles from Draco’s mouth he straighten to attention. This would not do. Harry would hear of this, especially if Neville found it too good not to pass on.In an effort to move away from the topic Draco did require Neville’s help – but in no way wanted to discuss right now – Draco proceeded to go through a list of ingredients for Sleeping Draughts he might have supply at hand.None fazed Neville, claiming all of them rather novice in terms of herbology and growing them wouldn’t take much expertise. Expecting Neville to ramble about plants was always the go to for Draco and yet Neville seemed eager to change subject too.Taking the parchment and slipping it into his pocket, Neville said, “I can manage the plants but... can’t Harry help you with that first one?”Fishing already, Merlin, Neville wasn’t subtle either. Must be a Gryffindor trait to be obvious in motive and desire.“I’ve made a bet with Harry and I’d like to win.”Neville blinked, hard as if forcing himself awake from a daydream. “A bet about Muggles?”Right.“How about I buy you a drink and you don’t interrupt me?” Draco snapped and left to get himself one too. There was only so much he could handle a smirking Neville before he would veto the idea of this man helping him.Draco explained, used his too warm butterbeer to outright refuse to answer any question posed.Finally, Neville laughed. A short full laugh that made Draco want to dress Neville’s face with said butterbeer and leave. “This is hilarious. You’re so going to lose.”“Why? Just tell me how to--” How difficult could Muggle cooking be? He was a Pureblood. There’s nothing a Muggle could do, he couldn’t.“Do you even know what tinfoil is?” Neville was by far too amused by this and Draco dodged the question.“How is that relevant? Help me with this and I don’t know – what kind of thing do you even want Longbottom?” Draco sighed. How awful to try and negotiate when he had nothing, knew nothing of what Neville might want. These were basic mistakes and Draco couldn’t undo them nor ask for help from anyone else.“You’re serious about this?”“I am winning that bet. With or without your help.”Neville was quiet, staring off into the corner till Draco wondered if he was looking at someone-- he jumped into conversation as Draco turned to look. “Alright, so Muggles have theses classes. I’ll go with you and you can get Muggles to teach you how to cook.”“You want to watch me...”“Interact with Muggles, yeah.” Neville drank the rest, sat the pint glass down fast before standing up. “That’ll be worth ten times the exchange rate, I reckon. I’ll owl you.” Neville made to leave.Rushing to speak, Draco followed, feeling a little too vulnerable all of a sudden as people passed him and he tried to keep his voice quiet enough. Had he just asked Harry’s friend for help? This was a fool’s errand this. “And not a word to Potter. He might back down if he gets wind of this.”“Not a word, yeah, yeah.” Despite assurances, Draco was unsettled at the smile. Were the Muggle classes that bad? Or was this simply because Neville knew he held the upper hand here? Or was watching him alongside Muggles really so amusing? Huffing to himself, Draco returned to the Leaky, cloak once forgotten and apparated home.True to his word a few days after, an owl appeared, a little dark-speckled one with amber eyes and a hoot that sounded more like an insult than a greeting.And then Draco was dragged into the Muggle world by Neville bloody Longbottom and Draco wanted nothing more than his normal clothing – the lack of cloak and robes was uncomfortable – and the whole time Neville watched him. As if he was a wild dog who’d turn on the mundane as soon they wandered too close.A test, then.Only taking Neville’s lead in this strange world, Draco was shooed along with a bunch of no-name Muggles into a building which reminded Draco of a flimsy Hogwarts. The stone walls seemed thin and brittle, nothing like the slab upon stone of the castle.The large kitchen made Draco pause in listening around at all the Muggle chatter. Larger than the Manor’s kitchen and for the first time in a long time, Draco wanted to expand its grounds and make it anew. Make it better because if the Muggles had this, then he should have better.Muggle classes too had them all standing around and waiting for the instructor to finally start their lesson.“You two are together, right?” Neville asked as he ignored most of the instructions and cut his chicken too haphazardly. Too thick, too thin, wrong, wrong, wrong. No wonder Neville wasn’t great at potions either.“No comment.” Draco focused on cutting this chicken. Which, by far was the grossest, slimiest and most horrendous thing Draco had ever touched with his bare hands. Forget the floss food, this was disgusting. Why, how could Muggles do this? House elves didn’t need to touch food. He glanced back over to the little Muggle chattering away about chopping the chicken – not too small, it’ll end up too dry and easily burnt – and Draco scowled.He was fine at this, potions and all but when was the Muggle going to show him how to use the contraptions and strange mundane technology to actually cook? Also, why was the paranoia of people talking about him rearing its head here? No one should know him. He made eye contact with another pair and they avoided him, whispering to each other again.“You’re not messing him about, right? For some twisted joke?”Draco glared at a rather stringy, white tendon and chopped it off before answering. “Oh yes, I go above and beyond when messing about, even gong so far as to join Mu--” The instructor came too close, peering over the cutting boards and inspecting--“I dunno. You have a lot of time on your hands and you did make a lot of time to annoy Harry.”“We hardly need to go back to--” Draco cut himself off, glanced up to the pair of ladies who were bickering. One of them shushed the other, and upon noticing he was watching and fell into silence.“Secondary school. He followed me about with his little cloak, Longbottom.” Neville frowned, like he hadn’t a clue what he was talking about. Like he didn’t remember when Draco stamped on Harry’s face like that mad hippogriff had tried on him. Like Harry never spoke about it and made himself out to be the victim in his creepy invisibleness sneaking around looking at him.How often had he done that?“Why would he do that when he could just use the map?”“The map? What map?”Draco was glad he worked with people. Wizards and witches who liked to think they could lie to his face and act better than him. Neville had assumed Draco lying, because of this map and now, after he’d spoken of its existence for the first time Neville looked away from him, no longer smug.“Oh, chicken’s gonna burn.” The chicken wasn’t even in his pan.“What bloody map? Neville--”“Mr. Mallory?” Draco froze. Turned to see if the little Muggle was talking to him. Him? She was talking to him? She couldn’t possibly-- The horror, the humiliation, it was like being back in the train having some people laugh at his name. A name written on the heavens and they dared make fun of it. Except no one knew the grand mistake dealt.“Are you sure you’re a beginner? You’ve chopped that chicken up expertly!”Laughter spilled out of Neville like an overturned pensive and Draco couldn’t speak a word because how could he? Did Muggles have potions? How did one become better at cutting up flesh when potions and dragon guts didn’t exist? And Mallory? What kind of name was that? Was Malfoy not recognised as one? Was this-- Turning to look at Neville, who’d taken to turning a violent red, Draco knew. This was his fault.Sensing trouble, the Muggle spoke up, patted him on the arm. “Oh, I didn’t mean to embarrass you, dearie, don’t you fret. You’re doing well. Just remember to wash your hands after the chicken’s finished.” She walked briskly away and Draco hissed.“You.”“I might’ve signed you in the sheet wrong.” Neville grinned. “Oops.”Draco kept his mouth shut and the knife down as his face heated worse than any flame could manage. He would kill Neville, absolutely. There was a space for his body right under the patio.After another few minutes, the instructor spoke about herbs and spices, salt and savoury and Draco ignored it instead to glare daggers at Neville. Who’d taken to a smugness level closer to Potter winning a Quidditch match.Draco tried to follow what she had done but failed, only due to the Muggle technology and Neville stepped in to point out he hadn’t put the gas on nor held down the ignition to light it. And then, it was too chaotic. Too much going on while Draco was meant to listen to the instructions and keep an eye on the flame and – Bugger, why did this have to be so tedious to light? He could take seconds to cast a spell and have a roaring fire. Why so many dials and twisting buttons? Such imprecise controls. How did he know the temperature of the fire? Was he to simply guess by the size of it? Madness.By the end, Draco was exhausted and looked at his half-cooked chicken, still raw in the middle and burnt on the outside. A clap at his shoulder and Draco had decided, yes, he would vanish this man away as soon as he could.“Thanks, Malfoy. Best eighty quid I’ve ever spent. See you next Monday.”What was he getting himself into? Draco left with the intention never to return.The next Monday came and went and with it Draco’s last trace of patience. Muggles were barmy, the two ladies from earlier continuing their gossip: something involving ‘hair dye’, ‘coloured contacts’ - whatever those were – and staring. Always staring. Draco was certain they were talking about him but couldn’t fathom how.All he had to do was make an edible meal. Passable. That’s all. And then he could gloat and make Potter want to make another meal in return. Thankfully the Muggle machine daunted Draco more than was necessary – it was simple, really and Draco ignored the barbs from Neville.Two lessons down and Draco was certain he wasn’t going to commit a version of Muggle arson.Speaking of Harry, he was insistent in asking after his progress – a harrowing experience – Had Neville said something? Nothing told him Harry knew, especially considering the greetings he and Neville shared at the Leaky only surprised Harry later that week.“Mallory.”“What?” Harry perked up.“I’ll hex you if you speak another word.” Was Neville going to reveal everything? Circe, no, he wouldn’t dare. This was just something to hang over his head and they both knew it. What an arse.“What’s this all about?” Harry looked between them, a smug Neville was unusual as he slid into his seat.“Just playing Harry, don’t worry. We’re all good.”“You say that Neville but it’s a fine line,” Draco spoke over his pint and glared. He sipped at it, not allowing Neville to speak. Why was it so warm in here?“Since when are you two so buddy-buddy? Is he teaching you cooking? I didn’t know you could cook.”“Nope. He’s piss poor at it.” Couldn’t chop up chicken to save his precious plants. He egged Neville on to reply. The smirk was a drowning offence. Draco wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. How terrifying were Harry’s instincts? Draco frowned, Neville hadn’t received much other than encouragement by the Muggle instructor.“So, you had fun? With Neville?”“No. It was horrendous.” Draco undid the ridiculous tie and undone the collar. Why did dressing formally cause such discomfort in the heat? Dragonhide was terrible for cooling as was most of the cloths and silks Draco owned. The Leaky and the sheer amount of bodies inside didn’t help matters. “He’s almost as smug as you. It’s ridiculous.”Waiting for a retort, Draco scanned he crowd. He’d wanted to see Luna tonight but it didn’t seem like she was going to show.“Harry.” Neville kicked Harry from under the table, hard enough to rattle it and the drinks on top. “Doing it again.”“What are you doing now?” Draco sneered, half hoping for an answer and the other a gust of chilling wind. He was sure if he were to remove his overcoat his shirt would be soaked. Kill him now, he surrendered to slouch on the wooden table. “Why is it so warm in here.”This batch of butterbeers was pretty potent. Neville’s face was blotchy in the heat and Harry didn’t fare much better. “Do you really like Harry?”“Neville.” Harry hissed as he returned the kick.This was the second time putting him on the spot and Draco didn’t want a third. His words hadn’t managed to seem genuine to Neville. Well, fuck off then. “I’ll see you later, I’m not answering inane questions.”“Draco--” Harry grabbed at him again. Hearing his name out loud, not peppered with loathing or suspicion was almost enough for Draco’s irritation to be sated. Almost.“Leave it,” Draco said as he gathered his pride and left, shaking off Harry’s hand.He doubted he’d passed whatever test Neville set. Failure was never fun and he’d rather not drink it in. Was this his life with Harry? Having to prove himself every second, every conversation? Have Neville and the rest of Harry’s mates watch him and wait – wait for him to mess up and jump on that moment and use it against him?For once, he wished he was shorter, to be able to slip through the crowds of Diagon Alley and disappear. The marching gait of Harry trying to catch up with him was all he could hear and he fled knowing fine well it wouldn’t be enough.“He didn’t mean anything by it.”“Of course he bloody did.” Draco didn’t even have the energy to complain. Should he be surprised? Luna was a loopy, loony and weird and the only one to accept his apology. Harry tried to grab at his arm, to act as an anchor and keep him harboured in this forsaken place and try and pretend Neville was questioning him for the best. No. No, Draco wouldn’t accept this, he wrangled his wrist away again.“Slow down.”In retaliation, Draco sped up.Harry was never one to be ignored and he pushed him into one of the alleyways which bled into Knockturn. Draco felt the thud in his teeth, nausea overwhelming him, brickwork at his back. Even now, against the cold stone that turned the sweat to ice against his skin, he was still too warm.A few people cast curious glances their way. It would only be a matter of time before they noted who exactly had who up against a wall. The why might not even matter to some.“Is admitting liking me too difficult?” Oh, how darling and ridiculous Potter was – he really believed everything revolved around him.
‘What are you doing?’
Hanging onto him like this, where people could see – what about his deal with Ginny? Did Harry have any sort of impulse control? And still the part of him that liked having the world take notice and see him whispered how easy it would be to have the attention of the public again.Snogging him in Diagon Alley would be a simple answer to Harry’s question.“That’s not what this is about.” Draco glanced back to the stream of people passing and shook his head. “Neville’s already made it clear what he thinks. It’s a bad joke to him.” To think he’d been shoulder to shoulder and trusted the man to do right by him. What a lark. What a disaster.How annoying. How terribly annoying having Harry be shorter and still manage to keep him here. His head ached.“You try anything here it’ll be in the Prophet by tomorrow.” Draco wasn’t even sure himself if he was goading Potter or reminding him. Harry tutted at him.Apparition made him dizzy and Draco lurched forward. He missed the wall behind him. It was either hanging onto Harry or possibly falling on his face.“You are really warm.” And for once, Harry was cool and his hands were comforting in their coldness as he sat a hand over his forehead. The slow ache in his head began to hammer and Draco relented, if only for a moment against Harry’s constant weight.“I feel like I’m melting.” A deep sigh at the relief of those hands was nice enough, comfortable enough to close his eyes and be still. Just hold it there Potter.“This is probably my fault.” What stupid spell had Harry tried to cast now? Draco didn’t believe him. Didn’t have the energy to complain. “Muggles, you know. You’ve caught a cold, I think. Maybe it takes longer for a wizard to get ill?”Neville’s fault. Neville’s Muggle’s fault.“I do not have a Mundane Cold. I’m too warm for that.” Harry snorted. “Whatever you are about to say, don’t.”His body ached and a strange fatigue overtook him. What he didn’t expect was to wake in a bed, his bed, not realising when he’d slept but dreading the fact he’d woken. It was cold. Terribly cold.“How are you holding up? With that not-a-cold-maybe-the-flu?” Harry sounded far away.“It’s chicken’s fault.” Draco’s own cold sweat made him feel worse. Why was this happening? He hadn’t fallen ill in ages. “Neville too. Blame them both. Cut ‘em both.”“Riight. You’re a tad delirious. Back to sleep.” It was a cooling sweep, from his toes to his forehead as a quick charm was cast and finally he stopped shivering.Lotty appeared along with a curious snout which sniffed at his face and Draco hadn’t the energy to shoo either of them away. Time blurred and Draco woke with a hideous taste in his mouth and a hunger he hadn’t felt since he was cursed.Yuck.Draco refused to face Harry. There were few days in Draco’s life he felt unattractive, gross even, to wish and hide away and never have another living person see him. Today he was sure he’d sneezed off his nose and if it hadn’t hurt so much, he’d happily considered it wiped away to nothing.Why did Harry have to come here? Just leave him.“I wonder, if you feel so guilty you think you deserve a Deatheater instead of your high school sweetheart.”The bed shifted, and Draco tightened his cover-cocoon. No one will see him like this, no one will see him in this darkness. Why was he so cold now? Stupid Muggles and their not cold Colds.“You’re not a punishment.” Prod, prod, prod at his side and Draco squirmed but couldn’t move away far enough.“Then why am I still being punished for the mistakes I made decades ago. Why are people still so quick to assume I mean wrong?” Pride and ego died a quick death as Harry patted him on the head through the cacoon.“Scarhead,” Draco muttered, too embarrassed to do much else but stay in the warm darkness. He could pretend he was fine, perfectly healthy and not to be pitied by even Harry Potter. Prod, prod, prod. He shifted away again. “Stop it, you git.”“Try eating. You haven’t had anything in a while.” He added, “Lotty’s worried. Just try some.”Food sounded too good. Even if it was Harry’s Muggle cooking, he’d eat without complaint. Struggling to sit up, he huffed, sat with his back to Potter because he probably would disillusion even Wilks with his face right now. “Give it here. Don’t bother to look, I’m in no mood for you to make fun.”“Do I come across as someone who’d laugh at someone who’s sick?” The bowl was still warm and full of Lotty’s usual panicking. Far too large, Draco might drown in the bowl if he so chose to.“Seems whatever happens to me is a free pass for everyone.”“Neville sent a few letters when you can get to them.”“I might never.”Harry then, no doubt thought Draco was being difficult and as Harry left, so did his appetite. No one would ever give him an apology or sympathy again because he wouldn’t read the letters sent his way. And who would ever dare to speak such admissions out loud for others to hear. He ached now to read and send letters, to return to his life before. He missed Luna’s, filled with confusing gibberish which would make him laugh and wonder.
‘Damn it, Blaise. Just ruin everything.’
A few days of soup, Lotty panicking and Decimus laying at his feet, Draco was better. And more solemn than he’d ever been in a long, long time. Why did he have to see the letters piling up so quickly? Why couldn’t people just not contact him for just a few months so Draco could feel more grounded? Why did each and every new letter send him into anxiety driven frenzy of failed writing attempts. He wasn’t getting better but worse. And the letters continued to come in. Even some from Daphne. Three from the Prophet. Pansy’s letter too sat there taunting him.Merlin, why.Still, he couldn’t open one – then he’d have to open them all. Answer them too. Write and show everyone he was a shambling mess of nerves who couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. Lotty was antsy whenever he sat down to try. She brought him different coloured paper whenever he struggled.Harry returned, like he always did, a few days later. Flooing into the Manor and looking ill-rested and a bit put out.“How are you, considering? I never really asked. I mean after everything.”After being enslaved and betrayed? Sure, just dandy, Potter. Draco scoffed, made sure to stand up and move away from the letters. Those terrible failures. “Does it look like I’m going to break down this very moment?”Tilting his head – which reminded him too much like Decimus these days – Harry said, “This is what you look like when you’re deflecting. Or losing at Quidditch.” He kept coming closer and closer. Too close to the writing table and its secrets.Draco saw it, the curiosity on Harry’s face as he glanced down and desperately, he hadn’t enough time to stop Harry picking up the poor attempts at writing on the table. “Wait.”“What?” Harry cocked his head to the other side but still he was picking it up, no, no, no. This couldn’t be seen by anyone.“It’s nothing. Put it--” Snatching it out of his hands, Draco twisted it around so it was away from that green stare.“What was that? Did you write that? That’s not your handwriting.” Every question chipped away at him, over and over he’d asked himself how terrible it would look, a what if, if maybe it was possible for others to ignore the change. But of course it would never be because Harry was right. The writing on this parchment was fresh and it was rotten.“Really, do you ever listen?” Draco yelled, desperate for Harry to unsee the letters, the failures, the embarrassments. “Lotty.” Furious as she blinked into the room, he did not stop as she twisted her ears, “I thought I told you to take these away. It was a simple task I gave you. Why can’t you listen?”“Lotty is sorry--” She blinked away, alongside the letters. The half written words which would be sent to no one. And as soon as the little elf was gone, Draco knew how awful a person he still was, would always be and Harry had seen it too.He forced himself to look back, to note Harry’s reaction to his own. “Don’t look at me like that, I loathe that look.”Hate Draco could stand. Pity he could not.“Does your Healer know about this?”“Funny. You’re telling me what I should tell to my Healer? You really want to go there?”Shuffling his feet, Harry relented. “I just want you to feel better.” Some of the embarrassment slid away leaving Draco tired and longing for the past.“Why is it always Muggleborns and Half-bloods who think they can wave a wand and have everything fixed?” Running a hand through his hair, he tried to focus on each word, not the weight in his throat that threatened to silence him.“It’d be nice if that’s how it worked. I’m not judging you.”Draco forced a laugh, sneered back at him. “If only you could see your own face.”Harry tried to morph his expression but he’d already lost. Already revealed his horror at Draco’s chicken scratches.“Is there really nothing I can do to help? I could stay here. While you write.” Harry sat down facing away from the table itself, the backless chair was transformed from a bench many generations ago, it wasn’t comfy by any stretch.“How would that help?” Jaw held tight in case a few curses flew out too. Why did Harry always assume he knew best?“Sometimes it helps just to have someone with you, through the rubbish bits.” Draco wanted dearly to write his letters, his questions and insults. He wanted his livelihood back even if it wasn’t necessary for wealth, he needed it for himself. And Harry, ever optimistic and heartfelt and not-Draco. But there was no going back. Harry had seen it.“Don’t read what I write. Don’t even look. I won’t trust you again.”As if Draco had given the Auror a task, paramount to the safety to all of Britain, Harry nodded once. Determination and a detachment Draco hadn’t expected. Draco sat down on the same backless chair and picked up the quill.He didn’t do anything, he waited. Waited for Harry to break his promise, to look and see how pitiful he’d become and try to fix it all himself. But Harry didn’t move, he stayed beside him, thigh burning into his own. And a hand slithered to his hand and Draco relaxed.Gulping he scrawled a greeting and instantly he was back at Blaise’s house, writing the same marriage proposals and he wanted to be vomit away the ink. A squeeze, tight and instant, almost painful and Draco remembered to inhale. To breathe and focus on the words.He dipped the nib in the ink again and it dripped onto the parchment. His handwriting was awful, truly not his own. Someone else had written these words and moulded his normal loops into shaky, quaking lines which resembled a child trying their best. His hands kept shaking, including the one which Harry clasped in his own.Circe, he went through a war and now, only now he couldn’t write a formal letter? A letter which would go to no one, would be read by no one else and still, he couldn’t. Couldn’t stop the revulsion of having the quill scratch at the parchment and have his body shake like he was freezing to a stop.The quill was dropped and it made a terrible noise as it rolled off the desk. Too loud, too obvious and Draco couldn’t stop. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Draco refused, outright refused to allow tears over this. This failure. Again. Harry squeezed his hand and it made it so much more difficult to keep in control.“Draco?” And he closed his eyes shut, bit at his lip and told himself this was stupid: he was being stupid, this shouldn’t be difficult. He could hold his wand - and that had been pointed at his most treasured person in the world. Why couldn’t he just write a bloody letter?“Don’t look,” he managed to say before he started sniffing, shoulders shaking and head bowed.“I won’t.” Harry didn’t look but neither did he let go. “Keep writing.” He rested his head against his shoulder and Draco sighed in defeat. A great deal of comfort came from simply the weight of someone next to him, the occasional refocus on something solid than the phantoms in his head.“Accio, quill.”At first, Draco only wrote the smallest of words, together they made no sense in any capacity. Then an attempt at a full sentence only for it to fail and Draco would squeeze back, desperate for support. It took too long for the words to come out and Draco lamented over their loss. This was why he hadn’t read Pansy’s message yet. How could he dare read it and be unable to answer? How that would twist him up further. When he could read that woman’s letter and send off several inches of parchment of insults without a thought before this whole mess.Instead, Draco tried to focus on Harry. Ignoring the scraping and the dink of dippings in the inkwell. He couldn't do this."I hate this. The noise.""Hmm, wait a second." Harry shifted, hand moving to his pocket. He slammed a device onto the table. Muggle. Draco had seen Hermione use one. "Just click the top. Don't need ink, it's already inside it."Draco nearly threw his quill away. Anything but that noise, that sensation, the texture of the parchment against the nip of the quill. He turned it over in his hand. Yellow, with a strange red-cheeked creature dotted all over it. There did seem to be a button-esque top. Click.It did click. It did not scratch as much. It didn't feel like writing. It didn't feel like when he wrote those--"Thanks."‘Why – Are – You –’ He scratched out the next attempt at words. He kept thinking of Blaise, of Theo.‘Why – Did – You -’ Harry had taken to stroking his thumb over the back of his hand and it was too much right now. Too nice for the already raw nerves and Draco twisted his hand awkward and slow; he didn’t want Harry to let go. Just stop that. For now. Harry ended up with Draco’s hand in-between both of his.‘How are you-’ Draco paused and he glanced to Harry, blob of hair at his shoulder and the crook of his neck and Draco stopped. This house was a prison, some parts of his life mistake after mistake and still Harry hadn’t thrown him in Azkaban and pointed his finger at him whenever anything went wrong. He settle himself against Harry’s ridiculous hair and continued.When it was clear Harry wasn’t going to turn around, wasn’t going to look and when the thoughts were focused on him Draco found it easier. So much easier to write random crap which helped. It wasn’t stressful. It was ridiculous.‘I swear...' it took too long to write it out. Harry kept still, calm and solid beside him and Draco found the flow of this - this Muggle device easier to spill words onto paper. 'Your hair is designed to drive me mad. How is this possible? It’s still tickling me you git. You aren’t even moving. Your hands are sweaty. Gryffindor is still the worst House.’He wanted to wash his face, never mind cast a charm. He wanted scrub and dry it and get rid of the nipping eyes and the tender skin under them.‘Thank you.’ Draco wrote it and it flowed nicely, a trace of what it once was. He didn’t try overthinking it, case it destroyed the confidence gained. ‘I’m going to burn the paper so you can’t read this. Never, ever. Scarhead.’“Harry.”“Hm?” Harry didn’t so much as twitch, frozen in what he was doing so Draco would never misinterpret anything.Draco decided to write one more sentence and with it the energy sapped out of him. “Tell Longbottom I’ll see him on Monday. Him here first.” He’d let the man know he hadn’t some nefarious plot waiting for Harry. If he didn’t believe him, fine.“I’ll let him know.” Harry shifted in his – their – seat. “You done already?”“I am now.” Draco nodded, pleased at the sight of words. He couldn’t ask for Harry’s hand every time he needed to reply to someone but little steps. Harry didn’t try to spy or peek over his shoulder and Draco felt that bloom of affection, of a deep appreciation that made him smile and be glad Harry could not see him.He set the parchment alight, the last sentence twisting and burning. Cooling his smile and trying to act as if nothing had changed, nothing had occurred. Occurred in the way a meaningful conversation occurred rather than the way a slurred argument just happened upon people.Draco cleared his throat, eager to hide his emotions. “Your son asked mine for help. Potions. Said the potion master was being unfair.”“Albus has had it easy at Hogwarts. He’s used to knowing everything and now he doesn’t.”“And he knows enough about potions for him to help send messages within time loops and alternative time lines. He’s allowed to be proud of it, Harry. You should interrogate this potion master before he starts labelling your son’s achievements as his own.”“They can do that?” Harry for once seemed to hear Draco’s advice on his son.Snape was a great teacher, if anything and Draco knew if he’d come to him in later years with something new – Snape wouldn’t steal it to make his ego greater. If anything Snape would have refused to do so, seeing it as an insult and it was a great minority Snape fell into. The potion masters were all preoccupied of being the first, the most ingenious in their brewing. Stealing apprenticeships work wasn’t common but it was heard of in a manner often enough it was not surprising.“I’ll look into it. Thanks.” Harry squeezed back.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The crup grumbled by him, its chin resting on the bed. Late for a morning walk.“I used to like my lie-ins.” Half hoping the creature would take the hint and leave proved futile. An unmoving stare followed. He didn’t move either. Then the whining started. And what a noise that was.“Right. Right, I’m up.”Draco was never one who liked too much responsibility, unless it somehow benefited him in some round about way. Having a child had settled most of his hubris by the door – that happens when vomit made it in hair – but not all. Best do everything he could because it wasn’t as if there was a line of people waiting to help him.Today, Draco milled around the Manor. Checking the damage on the floor and ceiling again. Lotty had done well to hide the marks. Hmm. It added character, he’d say. Maybe the Manor would feel different if not pristine and lying about what happened here. Every mark, every scrape had been covered and repaired after the War by his parents. As if it made a difference. He could always tell the truth, say Harry Potter had nearly destroyed the entire Manor in a fit of unbridled magic. That might add value.He ignored his hidden vault of memories. He would not step in there, to see the destruction. Not yet. All the memories cast into his head as he lay dying would be gone, glass broken.Lotty blinked into existence by his side. The necessary order had came through without any issue. It was in the lab. Sent from Neville. Looks like his day would be making more potions for Harry. Opening the box, thick wood and handwriting neat: We still on for Monday? messaged upon the top. Lotty asked if there was a problem and Draco dismissed her.No, no issue at all. All of them looked as if they’d been conjured from a herbology book. Picture perfect specimens. Neville could have sent the bare minimum, the worst of a bunch and argued Draco’s request came in too late, these were all he had left. There they all sat, taken care of clearly for months on end. Each plant was sectioned off, wrapped in sheets which were damp to the touch. Draco hadn’t a clue why; the plants would wither and die, why bother?Even if Draco didn’t know how good an Auror Neville had been, he was without doubt better at taking care of flowers and weeds and everything in-between than hurling hexes at the designated bad guys. They were dare he suggest it: pretty.Draco sat back into labelling beakers and vials, breaking the plants down into their base ingredients and setting up another cauldron. Hours which should have been relaxing in itself, a methodical work that had a set rhythm of cutting and tearing and sorting. It was not soothing in the slightest.If his mind drifted away once more, he’d lose a finger. He almost did and tutted at the blood, dare it seep onto the petals.“Argh.” He’d labelled a vial wrong. Kept thinking about-- “Potter.”Potter was the problem. No surprise there.“I’m going to hex this to pieces.” Forget how long Neville took to make these petals bloom with such vibrant reds and oranges, if he accidentally ripped another one he’d throw it out and start again. The petals were in his hands and his focus was not even in reality.Daydreaming. ‘You’re not even here and you’re making me make mistakes.’ No more. No more thinking about him. No more thinking about making dinners – and if he did manage to make a Muggle monstrosity (nothing could be as bad as the sticky-fluff) what would Harry do to acknowledge the effort? He’d better acknowledge the bloody effort.Another rip, another petal ruined already.“Arse!” Decimus jumped from the outburst.Hanging his head in his stained hands Draco fumed. Potter. ‘Get out of my head’. He set the boiling cauldron away. This required concentration and it was broken, shattered into very Potter-equse pieces and Draco wanted revenge. He was good at potions, no, fantastic, better than anyone had been in Hogwarts minus Snape.This was all Harry’s fault.He nudged the crup with his foot. “I’ve a plan.” Decimus sat at attention, listening.The wailing came from the hall and Lotty rushed down the stairs, nearly falling down the last few, snot running freely out her nostrils.“Lotty will help Master too! Please let Lotty help!”“I wouldn’t expect anything less of you Lotty.” While Decimus tilted its head at her and her sobbing, Draco continued despite the noise of her blowing her nose on her clothing.“I need you both to be on guard. Make sure I don’t have any unexpected visitors at the door. You can do that, can’t you?” The bark went through him and the ugly noise of phlegm being coughed was nearly enough to make Draco rethink this idea. “Both of you can go and corral the peacocks too. They’ve been a little rowdy this time of year.”Right, now to see to Potter first, bug him a bit in petty revenge. See if his passions had ran its course. Draco didn’t like admitting anything, not without a way to weasel out of it if it went wrong. He certainly wasn’t going to let Harry expect things that were not on the table in the first place.“Right, come on you.” Draco abandoned his lab and left the clean up to Lotty.The majority of the birds were sleeping as they arrived to the Owlery, the windows open and the air billowing the delicate strands around Decimus’ ears.Decimus frolicked at his feet, as Draco saw to the Ministry owl. If Draco could mimic the expression on the bird’s face no child would ever dare pet him in his animagus form, it was a promise of nips and bites if he didn’t hurry up and send a reply. The other birds shrieked at the newest addition to the household all while the crup barked in return.“Calm,” Draco called over the noise. Decimus thankfully, heeded the words and sat by his feet, though seemed to sulk, brown eyes looking up at him in a way too cute to hold resentment. Draco scratched at its ear as he read.Harry’s letter was shorter than what he would have liked, lacking much of an explanation too.
‘What will you be cooking for me anytime soon? Haven’t given up I hope.’
Arrogant sod. Well, he had a few choice words for Harry. Trying to scrawl his own note might work. He twirled it in his fingers eyeing the Ministry owl. No. He paid it to leave. He doubted he could write what he wanted and he was in no mood to challenge himself today in that regard.But-- Maybe Draco hadn’t learnt a thing. Ignoring Harry never worked out for him. He’d see Harry now instead of later.“I suppose you should be in on all the Malfoy secrets.” He directed at the crup and it didn’t disappoint in staring at him like it really was curious as to all his secrets. “Don’t hurt any of the animals here, understood.” Draco wasn’t sure the Manor recognised him as Head of the House when in owl form and couldn’t trust the idea the crup might see him as a chew toy if he changed without warning.“I’m leaving, so play nice with Lotty until I return.”Making sure, when he changed back into the more freeing form with wings and talons. The crup jumped up where Draco perched but only to sniff and tilt its head and bark in his face as if to ask: how? Chirping to get the crup down and away, the beast howled, span around and didn’t seem to know how to rid itself of the excitement or new found energy. Draco could play another day. Was this a smart idea - crups did hunt after all. They were bred for it.Draco went straight to the Ministry. The Auror department was nearly empty, the only one still there being the young woman from before. He landed on her desk and she startled. Maybe she wasn’t expecting to see another living thing for a few more hours.“Hey, you. You’re Mr. Potter’s owl arent’cha? He’s not back yet.” Problematic. He said he was working, so it might simply mean he was back at his home armed with files reaching the ceilings. Or with Hermione. He looked around, whatever was going on had taken every Auror and Cursebreaker away. Even Collins.“Hopefully he’ll be happier to see you. The Minister’s furious, I’ve never seen her so mad.” Hermione? What had they done wrong? The Auror-In-Training, Draco couldn’t image her being anything else, went to pet him and he eyed those fingers with ill-intent.“Okay, okay. Sorry.” She giggled. “You’re the prettiest owl I’ve seen in a while. You don’t get many of your size here. Pygmy owls are the latest crazy. I don’t see why. Couldn’t carry much of anything.”He didn’t listen after that. Groomed his feathers and waited for Harry to reappear from his usual tongue lashing of not playing by the rules. Who could really be surprised? What rules did Potter follow in school? Which were enforced? And the jump to the Aurors for being Potter, without sitting the necessary qualification for training? Well, Draco wouldn’t say anything else about it.Lucky sod.Creaking of metal, the groan of lift doors, followed by several approaching voices, stamping and huffing loud like toddlers tantrums and Draco was pleased to hear the Aurors had returned. Harry didn’t notice him or the young Auror as he sped passed. Furious and red.“Best let him calm down a little first,” she whispered and kept her head down. That was precisely what Draco would not do. He launched himself away from the desk, shrieking and cursing the tiny door handle for its lack of perching capacity.Abruptly, the Auror-In-Training rushed at him, tried to scoop him up and stop his shrieking. “Shh!” Unlikely.Potter had the audacity to open his office door and scowl at him.“I’m sorry Mr. Potter, I tried to keep him quiet.” She was all hunched over, trying to make herself as unremarkable as possible, to be overlooked and dismissed. Impossible with a furious owl struggling in her grasp, wings splaying out every which way.Draco managed to flap enough to escape, hopped to the floor and with the great ability of turning his head right around, he glared back. The fury died a little on Harry's face, though the red blots remained. He squatted down and offered his arm as a perch.Which Draco swiftly denied by flying into the office and sitting upon the rafters. Still too many papers and folders stacked high, still too many cases ignored... but progress was slow. He could make out the arm of a couch and first cushion in the corner of the room now.“It’s fine,” Harry said while he shut the door, Draco spied the way she slumped at the tone. Never meet your heroes was sensible advice for a reason. Potter didn’t waste time in throwing himself back into his chair. Thudding his head against the desk. The Minister’s anger did have that adverse side effect.“Just come here.” Draco debated on whether he should hold out for begging or at least a ‘please’ come from him. A foul mood which aligned with being told off made that unlikely. “So.” Harry sighed heavy, mumbled, “I may have fucked up.”That deserved all his attention, Draco flew down to the desk rounding his way to spy the look on Harry’s face. How big was this fuck up?“Hermione’s pissed. I should just retire, it’s not as if I’m helping anyone.”He gave a hoot, metaphorically and literally. In all his years Draco was usually the one scolded like a child by the Minister in front of a few workers. The result: catastrophizing, the end nigh and ego crushed. “Guess you were bored?” A poke and prod at his feathers, too thick for Draco to really feel it, Harry laid his chin on his arm.
‘It’s your fault. I could’ve spent the day brewing. But no.’
“That’s some glare, what’s wrong? You’re not stuck again, are you?” Trying to scratch at his beak, Draco refused it – nipping at the air and daring him to try it again. Harry sat up straight, chanced a look out the windows and for once used his wand. All at once blinds shut themselves tight, the door clicked and magic fluttered over Draco’s feathers like a chilled wind.“It’s fine, you can...” Harry made some alarming waving motions, seemingly forgetting about the wand in his hands. “Change back or however it is you do it. They can’t hear you.”Unlike apparition, where Draco knew how he looked – everyone was the same - changing form was a mystery to him. Did people see him shrink or grow in stages? Did they hear the bend and pop of bones that ached inside? Was transforming individual to the person? Or could he twist round and be Draco Malfoy, human, sitting on a desk within a blink?No pain, only an itch and tingle between his bones, they bent and twisted and the room shifted. It opened up and Draco could finally see all the stacks left within one look. Darker shadows where Draco could no longer spy the spider webs.Draco’s legs dangled off the desk and he had to wonder how his life had culminated to this point. Being in an Auror office, through choice. Wonders never ceased.“I cut my hand.” Smoothing the already healed wound, he huffed. Amusement replaced whatever Hermione’s lecture had left Harry stewing in.“And you’ve come to file an official complaint against... yourself?” Draco laughed freely. “You should’ve came here earlier and saved me from Hermione.”Saved him from Hermione? Ha. More like been a meat shield for whatever had wound her right up today. He’d once been told off for refusing to accept another house-elf affirmation. Lotty would have sobbed herself to sleep if she thought Draco needed another elf to help out. He’d never hear the end of it. He couldn’t have known about Hermione’s warpath but it served him now.“Hmm. Not today. No, I’m here to make your day much, much worse.”Harry rolled his eyes, sat back, small smile on his face all the same. “I don’t think that’s possible even for you Malfoy.”One would think Draco Malfoy, after being face-to-face with the Dark Lord himself would have the greatest ability to keep his emotions guarded, to keep his Will under lock and key deep inside his head. But honestly, what was a better feeling than knowing something someone else didn’t? He preened.Ha. What was once a plan to be annoying, an irritant to bug at Harry for a few minutes that would sent his day into the same overthinking nonsense became something else entirely. He could do a lot more as a person. Oh, Draco wanted to lord the knowledge around. Let it fill the room with sneering glee. Let Potter fret it out a little before Draco was nice enough to divulge on why.Delightful. Finally, Harry had caught up, eyeing him carefully.“What are you doing here?”Before those glasses scratched at their faces awkward and squashed, such pesky things really, Draco hooked his finger at the bridge of Harry’s glasses he stole them without any bluster on Harry’s part.Harry scrunched his face up, “Hey, I need th-”He slipped his other hand behind Harry’s neck, pulled him close. A kiss that was slow, more tormenting than necessary with teeth grazing at bottom lips. Specs were discarded behind him, his hand anchoring to the side of the desk. All the while Harry kept trying to pull him onto his lap – not happening in the middle of the Ministry, Potter, Merlin have some awareness, please for – the distracting buzz of his daydreams faded as Harry slipped his fingers down his neck, his collar stretched. Finally some relief.Draco untangled himself, pulling away at a jolt in his stomach – calm down – and grinned as Harry followed him.“Have fun with work.” Another kiss, quick on his cheek and he whispered close, “Do try and concentrate.”“What?” Harry sounded lost. Draco took to fixing his hair and collar reminding himself he could run away as an owl but not meet Hermione with such an obvious untidy appearance.“You’ve pissed off the Minister and I’ve yet to see her. How annoying.” He clicked the roof of his mouth with his tongue. Good. Serves him right and a convenient cover story to boot. Couldn’t have him too arrogant, Potter might implode. What a day this was turning into.“If you’re still annoyed, we can continue.”“How self-sacrificing of you,” Draco said as he twisted to hand those ridiculous specs back.“That’s me.”Best check in with the Minister given all that had happened. He had been putting it off. Tell her not to expect too many letters for a while. No, maybe he would leave it till she had calmed? Till Draco could talk about it to someone who wasn’t there.Another glance at the files and Draco sighed. “Try and get some more signed off, they aren’t doing anyone any favours sitting here.”“When are you making food?”“Subtlety, Potter. Changing the subject already?” Hopping off the table, Draco didn’t bother to check what Harry’s face said to being called out. If he didn’t want to talk, fine. Draco wasn’t his keeper. “When I win, you have to do something for me, right?”“Maybe you haven’t noticed, Neville’s a terrible cook.”Whether Harry was trying to wrangle some details on what he and Neville were doing- nice to know he was clueless to the Muggles in this equation – or simply keep away from the previous topic of- Ah, no. He wouldn’t say a word.“Open the door, I need to go.”Instead of clambering to his feet, opening the door and letting Draco turn with ease, Harry scribbled on a piece of parchment with sluggish indifference. They weren’t even words. He halved it over nonetheless, stood and held it out alongside his arm.“Take it. A bit suspicious for an owl to arrive and leave with no letter or package to deliver.”Draco blinked. Huh. A fine answer, some people might think Harry had been an Auror at some point. He twisted back and fluttered onto Harry’s arm. Taking the note, he ignored the stroke at his beak as Harry reopened the door, magic dissipating.He returned home to deal with the potions once more. Pleased at how his mind no longer wandered. He kept finding himself smiling and not knowing why. Scary how it became habit, to leave the Manor so often. To see Matthews, and talk. To see the Ministry without its glares and whispers and pettiness directed at him. In a flurry of style and exhausting flair, he delivered the newly made potions to Harry in shrieks and by wings. Collins’ jumped at the sight of him every time.Draco kept putting it off until eventually, he ran out of excuses.Flying into one of the cubicles of the bathroom, Draco re-emerged human. Checking himself over in the mirror he looked normal. Not a nerve fizzing or hair out of place. No one bothered him, even in the lift where people normally let off a snide comment.Being outside eased the nerves. Draco knocked at the door before being yelled at to come in already. Hermione’s mood wasn’t what Draco expected as he slipped into her still chaotic station. She’d sounded run off her feet with no broom nearby.“Draco! Come in, come in.” Much happier now, weird. More likely she was waiting on a fool too eager to test her patience. A much warmer welcome than Draco was expecting. “How are you? I heard you were out of hospital but I assumed no news was good news. Bit long to be out though, I was worried it was something serious. Harry hadn’t said anything and you not answering my letters isn’t too unusual to call a search party... but good to see you. For once.”Heard he was out? Laughing about calling a search party? She— She wasn’t as tactless as Harry, or as happy to ignore troubling information as Ron. So, why the lack of questions regarding Theo and Blaise? Why no resolute Minister saying she’d do all she could to find that pair of deceivers.“...You don’t know? About Theo or Blaise?” Hadn’t Harry said he’d spoken to Hermione, was that just an assumption, a jump in logic for Draco to admit? Why wouldn’t Harry speak with Hermione?“What is it? Their embezzlement? Harry said something about it.” Hermione paused in her writing, sweeping the hair out of her eyes.“About Blaise and Theo’s grand plan? Me being sold to the highest bidder for marriage? The whole reason I haven’t been here?”She gaped at him for a second before she said a word. “What? Don’t play--?” Draco scowled. Exaggeration might find its way into a conversation but this wasn’t anything like the typical half-truths Draco concocted for the sake of it. “You’re not? No, no I didn’t hear. What happened – ar-are you alright? No wonder it’s been – has it really been months since your last visit? I-- Nobody told me.”“I assumed Harry would have told you.” Draco could not say as to why Harry hadn’t spoken with Hermione. Had the Auror decided the Rings of Celius and their downfall were to be kept as tightly controlled as possible? But why not inform his boss, his best friend of it?In fact, when was the last time Harry and Hermione talked?Whatever worry Draco was worth was washed away with rage. She was abrupt in standing from her seat. “That absolute--” Shaking her head she marched away, only calling back, as if she’d forgotten Draco was even in the room, “Follow me.”Looked like Hermione knew where Harry was holed up. Unleashing a furious Hermione was always unintended but results were soon sure to follow. Those who entered Hermione’s path were quick to change course as she, despite being much shorter, had a pace Draco always found a little too fast to bother to keep up with and so he trailed behind keeping out her way. She opened the archive doors with so much gusto, Draco wouldn’t second guess if they flew off their hinges and kept going for their own safety.Seeing Harry again made his stomach leap and his voice fail even as Harry’s attention was on the more appropriately miffed Hermione.“Harry, tell me. Did you think going AWOL helps any of us? Were you just waiting for this one to land on my lap without a warning?”Draco wished he’d never said a word. People were around, not quite near enough to hear yet but Hermione only needed to start her high-pitched lecturing tone before even it would carry to those who were furthest away.“I didn’t, not really. Hermione, it’s--” Harry tried to explain but Hermione didn't let him finish. And Draco was so glad the two were old friends, too easily lost in bickering than looking at him. He shifted on his feet. Seeing Harry again wasn’t what Draco assumed it would be like.This felt weird. Really, really weird.A million worms swirling in his gut weird. Most days they saw each other alone, no pretext and no worries over whatever they decided to do. It was secret. No judgements from other people to consider. Even the days he slipped into Harry’s office, they were always hidden away. But this was outside, people watching and Draco wasn't sure where to look or what to say.Harry was married. A marriage which would dissolve soon enough but – married and to everyone else, happily, content.He blamed Hermione. She’d met up with them and yet now the atmosphere was different, changed. Thick and too much like Lotty’s broth. Being out in the world had stirred reality up like dust motes in the air. This wasn’t some night in the Leaky no one would remember, this was the Ministry Archives. People wouldn’t just talk and dismiss it as a drunken sight here to see them both together.Did he pretend to dislike Harry, right here and now? Did he pretend Harry hadn’t slept in his bed or seen him beside himself in both guilt and joy? For a moment the traitorous what-if arrived in his head and stationed itself till Draco couldn’t look at anyone, not even the stray folk who were nose-deep in research.What would happen if Hermione caught the two of them – an urge to snog Potter resurfaced at the idea – he was never one for public displays. Replaying in his head the image of him marching over and grabbing at Harry—it was never going to happen and yet. He’d very much like to greet him like that just for a reaction. Hiding away his thoughts from anyone who wished to fish for them, Draco stared down the spines of books, squashed tight and forced onto the shelves.“You said he was under arrest for embezzlement. He kidnapped him? Is this to do with those Artefacts from before?” Under arrest? Had Harry already caught them? Or was this in regards to a warrant of arrest? Before Draco could question either of them on it, Hermione turned to ask him, “Have you made a statement?”Oh. No. Of course not. Draco had only ever mentioned specific details to Matthews to explain, to reveal the chills and trembling whenever Draco didn’t rest well. He had to write what happened down? No. He didn’t want to do that, to have whatever Auror wanted to simply wander in and read it like a gossip rag. To comb through it as if Draco was lying or the one at fault.“Do I have to?” Draco’s question was quiet and he couldn’t bare to see what Hermione’s expression said about it.“You’re as bad as him. Write something up, both of you. Then, Harry, you will explain how this all connects, get a move on I want a report from you by tonight.” Hermione didn’t take no as an answer and on one of the numerous mahogany tables set some parchment down, the ink and quill charmed and rushing over at her beckoning.“She reminds me of--” Harry didn’t manage to finish again as whatever he was reading walloped him on the side of the head. And yet, Draco had a feeling he was going to say something about a certain Hogwarts Headmistress. They didn’t do much other than greet one another, Draco sitting down across from Harry and his books. Seeing Harry reading wasn’t a usual sight. They being law books wasn’t his first guess either. What was he looking up? Was it about Theo? Had he found another loophole somewhere?And this parchment was too blank, daunting and too much all at once. Having to discuss his innermost fears and ideas, didn’t prepare Draco for this. Writing down a statement of what occurred seemed too large, too deep a task to ever hope to put on parchment. Draco started from the end, giving him the excuse if anyone peered over to read his scrawled handwriting.A few details escaped him and Draco stilled at the memory. Antlers.“Harry, did you… cast a Patronus?” Trying not to look like a schoolboy eager for a distraction over homework, Draco returned to the previous line and scored it out, rewriting it over again to look busy. The words looked wrong.Harry fiddled with his glasses, not quite pushing them higher. “I just thought it kinda felt like a Dementor, cold and sucking all the good from the world. Figured it was worth a shot.” He shrugged and went back to reading.Who knew? Many wizards and witches found spells out by accident; Lumos didn’t just create light, certain plants and beasts avoided the wizard would cast them. Was it possible Harry had found another use for the Patronus spell? Likely, though with the rings gone, it would never be used again.“I don’t know how to cast one. Do you think I’d be able to? Given that I. I’ve used Dark Magic,” Draco said, making conversation and having no intention of trying to summon a Patronus himself.“Do you want me to teach you too?” Something, not the tone or inflection but it— it made Draco clam up, to wish he’d never started talking in the first place. All at once, the question made Draco feel terribly young and inexperienced; nervous and not sure how to proceed further.Yet Harry had this expression, not one Draco could ever associate with a man eager to help. The opposite was more true, and Draco wondered how many people said the same thing as conversation with the great and legendary Harry bloody Potter. How many said it to simply have a reason to contact and have the Saviour of the Wizarding World around? To brag they’d been taught by him as a piece to say at luncheon?“No, after all, what does it mean if I tried and can’t summon one?”And wasn’t the problem? Dark Wizards could not summon a Patronus. Draco didn’t need to be told, by his very magic no less, he was a Dark Wizard no matter if or how he had changed. Casting a Patronus might’ve been a feather in his hat, one to swish around and show off to those who considered him evil. No, he couldn’t chance it.Harry read in silence and Draco fought with the parchment. What was this? He wasn’t keen on whoever this Harry was, busy or not. Wasn’t keen on whatever was going on with him - his earlier time with Harry was never this strained, never this awkward, this blank canvas of emotion. Draco didn’t like his own feelings over this situation because, simply, when was he ever bothered by someone refusing to talk to him?Was this because they were outside? In the eyes of the public? Was this what he was expecting?He didn’t look busy. Feeling silly, Draco sighed an insult to his written statement while Harry stood, went off to the bookshelves larger than any Draco had ever seen and as far as the eye could see.It was easier to have a conversation there, between the bookshelves than out here in the open, rows of tables and chairs and a few people doing the same: reading or looking as if they’d set fire to their parchment.Draco followed, unsure why the nerves, but wanting an answer. He’d tell Hermione he couldn’t do this, or maybe have some leeway in writing up his torment for another day. Another day when Harry wasn’t acting colder than Draco ever remembered. Well, that wasn’t entirely true; another half truth to himself.Maybe his weeks of appearing at the Auror’s Office in his other form had cost him now Harry had time away. Was he being paranoid to think there was something else? Or had the weeks just gotten to him more than he’d thought? Draco could hear himself; he’d gone to work and wanted attention from a man who was looking for those who had done him wrong. He shouldn’t be so clingy, so desperate for attention.(Your social circle is somewhat limited, it’s not an issue if you have a friend or two but what happens if they can’t see you? Your emotional support system needs some attention.)Draco ended that session earlier in protest, as if it proved Matthews wrong. It sent him into a spiral, a horrid darkness that reminded him his friends – the closest thing he had to an old friend – had tried to use him like a stepping stone. He was alone, again.No. He glared at the mess of Harry’s hair. This was his work too, nothing in any official capacity but he’d practically handed power and influence to Hermione where she wouldn’t have it otherwise. Him being here wasn’t the issue; it was Harry’s avoidance which only told Draco perhaps Theo and Nott would never be caught. Perhaps that was why Harry was avoiding telling him about them?Or was being with someone who had to go and ‘talk’ out his problems sending alarms wailing? Draco could hear his father degrade another family’s troubles: ‘He actually pays someone to listen to him, can you imagine?’No point dodging or sidestepping the issue. As Harry slipped another book back into the shelf, handprints disturbing the dust on those he’d moved previously, Draco made sure to keep his voice low in case of passing employees.“What is it now?” No response. “Are you ignoring me? If you try and say you’re too busy when you’ve been taking leeway for years or that you’re giving me space after your little ‘we don’t have to end anything’ kindly shove it. Did you finally realise what a lark a wizard is when they--”Harry thudded his head against the bookshelf and Draco chanced a look over his shoulder. Best not have a rumour start he’d tried to murder Harry in the archives with the very archives themselves.“Harry?”Rubbing at his face, Harry let out a sigh to render all others obsolete. Ah, and the fluttering returned - as if they’d ever really left - Draco hadn’t a clue how to handle this, these, feelings a crashing and consuming tsunami.Was this wrong? Was this too much? He'd nearly spent every day with Astoria, every single day for hours and he still felt he hadn’t spent enough time with her by the end. She hadn’t had enough time. They hadn’t enough time. Nobody did.“You overthink everything. I’ve been busy. Really.”Draco was not convinced and it might have been obvious on his face as Harry laughed, relief in his own voice before it was gone. The rush of heat and his heartbeat in his ears made Draco wish he could apparate from the Ministry. What he expected was not what he’d found.“Are you doing better?”This, this wasn’t okay. This was unsettling, now having only a sliver of control Draco would normally have over himself.“Matthews wants me to have more ‘positive socialization’ and is trying to get me out of the house.” Draco couldn’t look his way for a time. His sight landed on a stray book put away incorrectly, Harry shuffled and Draco couldn’t help himself and twirled a loose Galleon in his fingers.“Is it working?” Harry nearly killed him, all clear eyed and curious. The urge to kiss someone in public was never high on Draco’s list - but it was climbing through the ranks fast.(‘You’re definitely lonely, Draco and that’s okay to say, to admit to. It’s not a fault or a weakness.’) Matthews was wrong.“Decimus is a good excuse to leave the Manor.” Draco shifted, not sure what to say. Was he better? He didn’t feel better, didn’t feel like he’d been put back together again with anything stronger than tissue paper. “Today’s been… better than most,” Draco admitted spending the day outside had done wonders for his mood, those phantom and intrusive whispers not ruining his time even when they had debated on whether or not an attack was incoming.“Sorry.” Harry turned and rested the back of his head against the shelf and here it was, Draco braced himself for the onslaught of backhanded insults and regrets. Harry scratched awkwardly beneath his temple, glasses forever in the way.“It’s been a while since I’ve had to check-in with someone else for any other reason than work or… potions. Luca wasn’t the type to bother doing it either, so I never noticed I disappear so often for so long. I didn’t know how to-- Look, I would write something then think, you wouldn’t want to read it and scrunch it up. I wasn’t ignoring you.”Oh. Right. And Harry glanced around, craning his neck to look behind Draco. What was he expecting? Draco hadn’t brought anyone, he hadn’t even meant to bring Hermione unless someone was coming? Draco glanced back-- warm fingers tingled at his neck and he turned back as Harry kissed him. Chaste and quick and enough to stop Draco from ever breathing again.Right.Right. Okay.“You’re pretty red,” whispered Harry, far too bloody pleased with himself.Draco cleared his throat. Too much, overboard and struggling to stay afloat Draco let Harry leave first, no doubt this was a win for him. What an absolutely ridiculous menace Potter was.He rubbed at his neck, trying to rid the memory of Harry’s nails and fingers. He stayed between the shelves for a few moments, sorting out the colour that he had no doubt was on his face. What tingling nonsense. Draco returned to his seat quietly refusing to look anywhere but the parchment.Had anyone seen them? Could anyone tell by the look on his face what they'd done?Dealing with facts, knowing and expecting movements from enemies and allies alike should make Draco immune to this, this self conscious fretting. Even as Harry sat back down, no longer too deep in thought going but how Draco felt his neck prickle. Whenever he glanced up to check Harry was back to his staring, and the lurch of being caught yet again made Draco force his head down to stare at this awful parchment.Oh, he knew this. This feeling.Bloody well right then, he bit into his lip. No one could hear his thoughts, right? He wanted to stay in comfortable silence. And also rush away. Hide. He was supposed to be levelled headed, he was supposed to be the thinking-things-through type. Wanting to pull Harry off to a stationary cupboard was neither of those self-proclaimed things.Focus. Remember the worst time of his life.“Your Patronus would be an owl,” Harry said abruptly, “you know, because they’re usually the same.” That put Draco on the spot, what if someone was listening in? No, he couldn’t bare people finding out his secrets out in the open.“Are you getting a Healer?” Draco didn’t dare look up to meet those green eyes, no, they might tempt him to shut up and not ask again.“I’m fine with sleeping potions.” The noise of a page being turned too forcibly, Harry skipping more than a few pages at that, made Draco’s stomach roll around like he was on a broom diving down.Okay, so Draco assumed that was coming. “And your magic?” Draco couldn’t pretend he was writing any longer, so he stared at the word ‘unknown’ and waited for Harry to answer. Like a rabbit catching sight of a fox, Draco froze and wanted to see what move Harry would make before wasting energy.“I’m back in control of it, you’ve seen it.”Drop the conversation, he had said. Draco did not.“We both know that’s not the magic I’m talking about. It hurt--”Springing up, sitting as if he’d found the answers to his search, Harry asked, “You spoke to Ginny?”“No? Haven’t seen her since the party.”“I’m fine.” Harry always struggled against it – always against something. The man didn’t seem capable of having an easy life, making everything a bit too complicated to only create further complexes further on for everyone else.Astoria battled on too and Draco had recognised that face, that expression where pain came so easily and she never would utter a word. An expression tired but not, never, weak or desperate – just dealing with it because there was no other option. She’d not spoken to him an entire day when he told her he thought her brave. She hadn’t agreed in the slightest; bearing pain, was what she did everyday of every second of those days - she hadn’t wanted his pity, his puffery about any virtues she didn’t have. So, Draco never said it again.Harry’s feel-good attitude died, a swift murder where his face turned an ashen grey to the point Draco wanted to pull him close and wrap Harry in his cloak and check if he was still breathing.Ginny must have experienced the magic, the tainted awful mess of magic Draco wouldn’t ever forget. A muddle of terror and chilling needles and not a hope in sight to tell either of them how to stop it.Draco assumed many times over Harry’s magic, Will and all would recover once the dragonblood and his sleeping pattern were sorted. Ginny, she knew. Knew something more. Neither of them had spoken for a time and Draco had to guess, perhaps, maybe, possibly, the fact that Draco was brought along to drink with that lot was to prove to Ginny: Harry was okay. Harry stayed muted and sank in his chair, whatever in his head weighing him down physically and absolutely. They did their tasks in silence and Draco had scored more and more lines from his statement. What good was it for others to know Draco was hurt by it, pointing a wand at his child.Another distraction was necessary.“Can I stay over?”Another forced flick of paper. A frown. When did Harry reject time spent with him? He’d run around hushing Siobhan up about his health so he could stay under the same roof, he’d gone off and somehow – somehow – managed to remove the whole blacklisted name of several generations for a gift.“Is that a no?”Had he fucked up? Really? How badly? Going by how sour his face was made Draco panic a little. This wasn’t a pet peeve, this was a curse Draco had reawakened. Harry sighed, drawn out and glaring at the pages in his hands.“You’re the only other person who knows it exists, stay as long as you want. I might not be there though.” Harry shrugged, flicked through more parchment and Draco couldn’t pinpoint how to stop this. He didn’t want to spend time in another empty house. This strange turn wasn’t what Draco was used to – not when Harry pampered and did as he was wished so often.“Are you mad because I mentioned your magic?”It wasn’t the silence between two people who were sharing an experience or comfy within the quiet itself, just a confining tension in the air as Draco could only hope Harry calmed from his denial.“...Yeah.”He shouldn’t have said a word. He shouldn’t have come here. He wasn’t writing this statement and he wasn’t going to cause more problems for Harry. Forget this.“I’ll leave you to your books. I should go feed the crup, it eats more than I expected.”If anyone had the ability to return words spoken to their mouths, Draco wanted knowledge of it. His voice wasn’t really his, that could be the only explanation of why it sounded so terribly unlike him. Dejected didn’t suit Malfoys: bitter or testy, whiny or complaining but this hopeless realisation he’d come here for answers and would return only with Harry’s ire made Draco want to hit his head against the archive bookcases and give himself a concussion in the hopes to forget it all.“Draco--”Really, he was pitiful. He wanted attention and lamenting over not receiving it, he wanted to blame it on Harry. Had he grown at all throughout the years? Didn't damned well feel like it. Draco didn’t make it out of the archives never mind the Ministry, arm yanked and Harry glaring. Another doubt - how could they ever work? Annoying Harry hadn’t even been Draco’s goal.“Wait.” Harry seemed to have an argument in his head, expressions of all those tumultuous thoughts on his face clear and making Draco wish mind-reading was legal and safe and morally allowed. “Tonight, dinner? It’ll be super late, though.” All it would take to win this argument would be to refuse, his pride saved a tad in an already tiring day. “Is that okay?”Instead Draco said, “Just bring the food with you.”Returning to the Manor, Draco didn’t want to consider how easy it was. How simple a task it was to rile Harry.Contrary to what most believed, Draco disliked drama, any upheaval from the convenience of everyday life was never good, never welcomed by him for one reason alone. Perspective. Whenever accidents occurred nearby, Draco always ended up a footnote as if he were the latest boogeyman of Muggleborns and Half-Bloods alike. And now, as he sat waiting for a FireCall – if Harry would ever qualify him one, or any message at all for that matter – the nerves were fraying, bleeding.In fact Draco couldn’t recall the last time the anticipation of such a tiny little thing bothered him. Perhaps hosting the Minister's party, though he’d certainly ended up a mess fretting over it by the night's end.Decimus howled and grumbled at him, yawning and stretching but following Draco on his maddening pacing around the sitting room. All for him to sit back down and wonder how long this would last. For now, his thoughts were present and his own and his focus entirely on when Harry would show himself.Soon, hopefully. The other part of himself muttered an opposing - not yet, not yet, he wasn’t ready just yet - and the struggle wasn’t one Draco was too familiar. For longer than Draco cared to admit, his loneliness manifested to keep him safe from those who would seek to use it against him – going outside less, even with Scorpius, the quiet, unseen work he shouldered for Hermione. All to keep him safe. Happy. And how miserable he was. What solace he’d found when Astoria left had departed too over the years. His leg bounced on a nerve, constant and unstoppable. So, Draco got up to pace again.The world had shifted. Seeing Harry in secret had allowed Draco some guard in these emotions and feelings. And now, Draco was well aware, too aware in the difference from how he wanted to treat Harry versus how he had to. He groaned at the idea. He should have stayed away, ignorant and letting their rendezvous change nothing.Things were different now.He checked himself in the mirror, making sure that he hadn’t messed up his appearance with the constant fidgeting. Well, he was perfect of course, but Draco didn’t feel it. As if his fancy clothing were pitiful Muggle-monstrosities and said nothing of his greatness or charm.This giddy feeling welling up and threatening to overwhelm him into a shaking mess of hopeful was too much like what he had with Astoria back in the early days when he realised he wasn’t alone. Alone in thinking he’d been wrong, his father had been wrong, his decisions had been wrong and had somehow changed while his peers stayed the same.They were having dinner, no doubt no different from the other food they’d eaten before. The only difference was how Draco felt about it. Bloody Merlin – what was he supposed to do now? They’d eaten together last time.Why did Hermione have to be there with him? Why did they have to meet outside in the real world where no tricks orsecrets kept them from others' eyes?Why now of all times did he remember Potter first wanting to kiss him in his hideaway back when Draco had only just noticed over a FireWhiskey – he checked his reflection again before perching back down.Right.Well.He utterly hated this second guessing.“Nonsense.”Decimus jumped up onto the couch and started to dig into the cushions. “You. Calm it.” The crup turned to give him such an accusing look. The beast threw itself down, nuzzling into the very seams of the furniture as if trying to hide its muzzle between the cushions. Tails wagging and hitting Draco on the thigh, he tried to ignore the time and petted the pet. Decimus agreed this was the best plan and nearly ended up on Draco’s lap again.The Floo roared.“Harry,” Draco greeted him, went to stand up and take away one of those pizza boxes, but didn’t, couldn’t. Unfortunately, the pause in attention had Decimus sit up and whine as it stood on Draco, refusing to let him up.“Oft, Decimus down, you pest.” The whining just got louder, the crup trying once again to lay back down on his lap. Hearing Harry laugh made everything worse. The fluttering and the nerves didn’t stop, not for a second, not while Harry was here, watching this pet be a spoiled pet. If anything, it worsened further because if Draco had butterflies trapped in his stomach, he was scared to open his mouth and let them escape.“He does like you a lot. Need any help there?”His face tingled. “We had a deal.” Draco said one word after it and it had the crup tilt its head. “Go.” It launched itself off the couch and sprinted in the direction of the kitchen.“Hope you’re half as hungry.”“Obviously, Potter, you’re late.”‘You’re just someone who only likes someone when you like them, that’s all.’ Astoria had shrugged off Draco’s confusion much faster than he could. Apparently, he was a romantic fool too and he wasn’t keen on admitting either. Draco liked people, when they liked him. Nervous over eating pizza with Harry? This was Fate having a laugh. They’d slept in the same bed – why was this a nearly unbearable ask?Draco and Harry ate in silence, no fault to Harry.“Are you okay?” Hmm. “Are you sure?” Hmm-mm. “Draco, are you listening to me? Or are you away in your own world again?”What was he even going to say? When was Draco Malfoy ever speechless?“You okay?” Not a hint to how he acted in the archives, nothing to flare insecurities. Just plain old Harry, paying attention to him again like he was the most interesting person in the world and it bloated his ego. Circe, he was born and bred into sophistication and all of it left him in that moment when Harry just looked at him.Fuck.Now he had his attention; what was he supposed to do with it?Draco excused himself to locate some FireWhiskey or MuggledWine - anything - all while he ignored the ever near hysteric cries of him asking what he was doing - he’d spent too long looking (not even at the decent vintages) he returned awkward and muttering how he didn't find the one he wanted.He’d returned with the last bottle he’d seen and prayed to anything and everything Harry couldn’t taste the difference of a bad year. He’d taken a few swigs himself from another to calm down.Foolish, embarrassing, cringe-worthy, ridiculous. Bloody ridiculous.That’s what this was and as Draco threw himself back down on the couch next to Harry, these emotions twisted to annoyance at himself. Pansy hadn’t even made him feel off kilter and she’d been a teenage girl who knew how to rile and soothe him before Draco knew that about himself.Huffing to himself, he mock glared at Harry. “This is ridiculous -- I don’t know how you’ve managed it -- I’m actually anxious.”Instead of the onslaught of teasing and questions, Harry froze mid-bite. Looked worried like the pizza was off. “Is it… bad nerves? Are you...”“Oh, for Merlin’s sake-- no, Potter I’m not scared of you. Get over yourself.” Just second guessing if this was a good idea or not. Either way, it helped dispel some of the energy, anxiety and too much emotion for simple pizza. Finally, Harry laughed.“About time.” Returning to eat, Harry’s apprehension was gone as if it hadn’t been there. “You know, absence makes the heart grow fonder.”“I am somewhat fond of you.”“What?” That did terrible, awful fluttery things to him and Draco looked away.Draco ate his food slower, giving him a way out of those far too inquisitive eyes. The two of them settled on the couch then, calmer, comfortable and more at ease as they blended into each other's space, Harry chattered on.“I’m moving everything into Knockturn. I bought it but I’d never really considered living there, and in the beginning the other place was just one to have away from everyone else.”“Good, that hovel is ghastly. Tell me you aren’t sleeping there.” Wishing to ignore the lies once told, they both moved on without another word.“Some stuff, some of Luca’s stuff is still there. Just letting you know, the next time you’re over you’ll see a lot more boxes.”What a strange topic of conversation this was. Even stranger still, Harry seemed on edge for Draco’s answer, as if he'd had anything but a confused affirmation. Why did he need to know this?“Harry, do - did you share everything with Ginny? You never kept secrets?” Draco wasn’t keen on asking about her but after Harry’s show with sharing food so nonchalantly Draco had to know. Astoria had some secrets, some burdens and baggage from the war and Draco never asked because that was the agreement.She must have known, had some inkling of the demons he possessed because of Voldemort. About the rumours of torture and death, and yet not once was he asked to explain because that was his - not hers, nothing for them to share. Ginny and Harry had gone through the War caring for each other, perhaps that’s why Harry considered there should be no secrets because no secret was heavier than the war they already shared.‘Don’t offer to carry a burden when you don’t even know its weight,’ Astoria had told him one day when he’d asked her what she’d seen that had changed her mind on Muggles and Muggleborns. To this day he still didn’t know. He didn’t ever want to know, he’d seen enough for himself.“She’s my wife? Of course I didn’t, we were stronger together. What? Did you keep things from Astoria?” Harry’s words tried to take on a more defensive tone but didn’t manage it, at least Draco didn’t feel the edge at Harry’s attempt to sharpen his words into an accusation.“We dealt with some things separately. I don’t need to know about every little thing. Whatever it is that wakes you up Harry - you need to deal with it.” Harry didn’t need to voice how much he didn’t believe the words Draco was saying, so Draco didn’t leave anything up for debate. “I can’t really help, potions and all that, don’t matter, you still need to get the help you need.”The implication wasn’t lost on him.“Don’t give me ultimatums. I had to walk into the Forest to die or watch everyone I love die. Ultimatums suck.” Harry threw a crust down into the box and Draco wondered if he had eaten his fill or the conversation was turning his stomach.But yes, that part Draco could agree.“Will you think about seeing someone?” Harry didn’t answer. Setting his slice of pizza back in its box, Draco decided he might as well be honest. “Are you second guessing this? At all? Even though I tried to kill you?”For once - thank Circe for that - Harry didn’t answer right away as if he really was weighing up his soon to be words and what he felt against each other. Good, Draco couldn’t take appeasement right now. His nerves disagreed and he twisted his hands, unsure where to look.“I know a little bit more than the average person about hurting people you don’t want to hurt. You should talk to Ginny.” More on Harry’s out of control magic, Draco could only surmise and really, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to ask Ginny. Harry rubbed at his neck and Draco allowed himself to be distracted by it.“You wake up from nightmares. About a case, the one in your office you don’t go near. I’m no fool, I know it’s all connected somehow.”“It’d be easier if you just said you want to wear the Auror robe.”They joked, reluctant to stay on heartfelt topics for too long. Neither of them had it easy but dragging it back up wasn’t helpful. Draco went through a series of what ifs – Collins would have a heart attack clearly – and Harry giggled alongside him at the idea of the Prophet knowing. Impossible as it was – Draco wouldn’t be able to deal with people, not in the way the uniform required – it was funny to imagine.Harry sighed, content to lounge next to him. “I’ll think about it. Seeing a Healer.” Tacked on, like it was an afterthought Harry said, “I’m not a good person.”Dramatically Draco looked around the room for the clear pranksters who would announce the news. “When was I bestowed with sainthood?” Not finding it amusing, Harry’s mood soured and Draco wouldn’t have it. “Don’t go cold on me now, Potter. The pizza already has.” A nudge, perfectly placed to jab in between the ribs, and Harry squirmed.“Talk to Ginny. Then, then I will look for someone, okay?” Before Draco could question him on why this was the key point in finding help, an ultimatum in itself. “Whatever will be, will be.”Frowning Draco didn’t understand. “Muggle saying?”“Muggle saying.” Harry nodded, settling his head against his shoulder.This was too much, too intimate despite being fully clothed and sitting intertwined. Intimate in the fashion of being comfortable in the nooks and crannies of another person - like how Harry’s hair tickled at Draco’s temple or how Draco could feel how Harry’s muscles shifted as he squirmed closer, comfier, warmer.This wasn’t enough, he wanted to keep Harry to himself, to tell everyone and be smug about it because wouldn’t their faces be a picture? Wouldn’t they cry out and claim that their precious Chosen One had been taken away by the evil Deatheater? Harry was his.Draco was aware, too self-aware how Matthews had asked that one question before: (‘When are you happy?’)Draco hadn’t given Matthew a name, no matter how much Matthews dug.Harry might think himself an awful person - a liar in his own right, but Draco still considered him honest because Potter couldn’t hide his true emotions, not at all. Unlike the liars Draco faced, who couldn’t so much as agree to what sort of opinion they favoured.(There's a place I like best, I suppose. Matthews seemed pleased, and Draco wasn't sure why. ‘You’re happy there?’)Was it difficult to be happy at the slice of privacy where no one other than Harry knew where he was? No need for pretences or to watch his words in case it ended up in the papers. Harry wasn’t the type to let him bully his way or be a doormat to whatever whims he had that day. Neither was he dull for conversation, oddly enough, Draco had only really noticed that following the War and not before.The hair on Draco’s neck tingled again. “What?” He tired to ignore it. Ignore the way Harry eyed his mouth again.“Nothing.”Harry: the worst fucking liar, see evidence above.And he leaned over to kiss Harry. A snort, amused and pulling back -- what a useless way to interrupt -- Draco ignored it, tried to resume. But Potter had to look too smug over it and rested his head against the back of the couch. Draco said it offhandedly, a fact not interesting enough to warrant him to stop or pause other than to say it. But the kissing was awkward as Draco could feel Harry’s smile wider. “You’re making this far more difficult than it needs to be.”Far too loud was Harry’s laugh and Draco’s head dropped to Harry’s shoulder, hiding the fact it was now accompanied by a heat across his face. “You always ruin my plans, Potter.” The sentiment might kill him, or the way Harry rumbled with laughter next to him.Thankfully, gratefully Harry didn’t reject him again, not so much as a pause to tease him. Good, Draco didn’t quite have an unlimited amount of self-confidence these days. The pulse at Harry’s neck quickened against his hand.The fact the Floo was still open reminded Draco to shift this somewhere more private. Less traumatising for everyone if Scorpius decided an emergency visit. It all happened all at once, how Harry’s fingers found their way to his skin pulling at his robes. Frenzied kisses that reminded him of those found at Hogwarts in alcoves, desperate for more time between classes.“Wait.” He might’ve said it, but he didn’t refuse the kisses. “Potter. One thing.” He shifted, covered Potter’s mouth with the palm of his hand. It was distracting and – and Draco couldn’t have that right now. Until this dread left him, until this was cleared up he couldn’t rest easy couldn’t just go along with the flow. There was really no easy way to say it, so Draco just said it.“You’re not putting anything up my arse.” Harry blinked but didn’t move, didn’t sit up so Draco launched into explanation unsure what else he should say to cover up the embarrassment. “Do you really think I was taught anything about what goes on between two guys other than the hushed whispers at Hogwarts?” Slowly he let go, readying himself for Harry’s answer.“Is that what you’ve been worrying about?”Harry looked at him like he had asked if it was possible to get pregnant.He waited to hear something dismissive, something along the lines of it wouldn’t hurt or he shouldn’t worry. That it would all be okay, to just trust him. At that point Draco would hex Potter from his life and drown himself in whiskey for the night.“That’s? Fine? I’m not really into that.”“But isn’t that,” Draco shifted under the gaze. “Isn’t that how it has to go?” How else--?“For the love of-- Malfoy we don’t need to put cocks up our arses to have sex. Okay?” Draco could only muster up a nod, frozen from the sheer acknowledgement of what was going through his head. “Don’t overthink it. Just do what feels good for you.”“Right. I knew that.”“Of course you did.” The smarmy grin was back. Harry kissed him hard and Draco was certain of the embarrassment on his face. And then it was back to the kisses tugged with teeth, and roaming hands. And he was too giddy, too nervous to proposition Harry again in the same way he’d done before. So he said a word, one simple word where Harry could happily remove himself and Draco could cool himself down by drowning himself in a cold bath and regretting said word.“Upstairs.” While Draco had expected to meander and pause in their journey to the nearest bedroom, Harry twisted round him and Draco blinked as he stared at a very smug Harry above him and Draco couldn’t say the speed of the apparation was good for his ego. Throwing a look over to the side he saw no jewellery box, not in his master bedroom then. Urgh, was it possible to be irritated and turned on?“Real proud of yourself, aren’t you?” he sneered. Harry’s magic was by far the most ridiculous Draco had ever encountered.Harry knew it too as he laughed, tried to kiss Draco again and failed because of that same laughter. And Draco wasn’t sure if Harry could tell - if his face gave something away. Gave Harry some insight to these feelings that fluttered and flitted around his head and chest when Draco’d heard that noise. How he’d been delighted at it - the very bloody noise of that laughter. Maybe Harry saw through it because of how his smile dwindled, a sort of thoughtful stare crossing over his features before he started kissing him again. The panic flared as soon as his weight settled against him.It took Harry slipping between his robes and touching his skin bare before he flinched. Before Harry interrupted, stopped, made them talk it over again Draco quickly said, “You know the spell Nox?”Harry’s green eyes vanished as did Draco’s embarrassment.The shit. The absolute shit. Another one? Another one!“Better?” He had the audacity to ask after using another spell, uninvoked and wandless.“Oh, I hate you so much.”Harry desperately stifled a laugh against his skin.His eyes would never adjust to this veil of darkness and he was glad. Glad Potter wouldn’t see him worry or question. He really was a coward, wasn’t he? The darkness emboldened him like a thief. Reaching out, entangling that unruly mess of hair between his fingers, till he could feel the heat from his scalp. With gentle strokes Harry leaned into them.“You’re thinking again. I can practically hear you.” Harry kissed at the side of his mouth. Probably missed what he was aiming for.“Something you’re not used to hearing, I’m s--” The insecure quip smothered on his lips as Harry ignored him.The Auror uniform was a nightmare borne from the one simple fact: it wasn’t fast to take off by any means. Too many buttons - too many small buttons at that - and more than enough stiff material when pulling it over Harry’s head it seemed to stick and freeze and make a fool of them both. Maybe Draco was just erring into the desperate category as he swore at three buttons of the vest - some faerie wax bullshit that made Draco hiss at how ridiculous this was. He’d Vanished the fucking thing, he would, and Harry seemed no closer to helping.“Can I—” Harry gulped down a breath.“Just do something.” Draco failed again. “I’m going to Vanish this bloody thing if you don’t help.”“Just pull.” Another hurried kiss. “Fix it later.”Not the kind to wait for second or third ideas when the suggested one was sound - best idea Harry had ever had really - and the little pests popped off, one landed far off to his left hitting the dresser, as Draco pulled and stretched the uniform with no care.Cue another new titbit of information. Harry Potter Liked to Bite. Another nip at his jaw and throat. He flushed from this aggressive move. A tad delirious in his thoughts, a cocktail of nerves and anticipation and a hint of dread mixed there too - had Draco giggle. Short little sounds that Harry didn’t question. If it turned out Potter was actually a vampire, Draco wouldn’t be surprised.It wasn’t fair. Being undone with kisses and pawing at his skin. Harry yelped, close to it, when Draco shifted back again. Pulled closer, let his raised thigh grind against him.One of Harry’s hands had firmly clamped onto Draco’s own, fingers and nails digging into each other. Draco didn’t feel nearly as in control any more, not when he started kissing at the scars.Stuck underneath wasn’t too bad; the weight pushing down on him was alien — not enough to cause panic like before but he huffed out and wondered if it was possible for Potter to smother him this way. Once or twice, skin on skin overwhelmed for a split second, a quick thought burnt out just as fast as it appeared.Harry blurted out in the darkness, “I lied.”“What?” Draco gasped for air and his brain wasn’t quite up to speed for holding conversation just yet. What a time for a truth to spill out. What was he talking about? As if Draco needed to know he lied now of all times.“I tried, I mean – I wanted to - I was trying to ignore you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you; and you, you almost died again.” Not quite sure what Harry was even saying, Draco ran his hands through Harry’s hair, pulled it away from his face and how utterly devastated he seemed at giving voice to those words. “I couldn’t save you, twice.” Draco pushed himself to sit up, his leg hooking over one of Harry’s thighs.Potter really thought he just had to save everyone the Gryffindor sap. “Still here.” Draco kissed him, the type of kiss Draco wished for all the time. The kind that took all the sentiment and emotions he felt over this - this idiot - and hoped he wouldn’t have to admit out loud just yet. Soft but never too long, he stroked through his hair, taking the needy noises as another petty win.Between trying not to faint - the kissing paused only while they both took a few gulps of air - and kissing Harry - Draco couldn’t say which one he wanted more. Every time Draco pulled away just for a quick inhale, Harry seemed to follow, kissed him more and Draco couldn’t think to refuse he just opened up his mouth and whenever Harry moved Draco followed back.“Hurry up,” said Draco, a tad too aware of his own voice. It scratched out his throat and Harry pulled him closer.Harry wasn’t bad at making Draco lose his fucking mind - he was nearly there and nearly there for far too long, nothing quite pushing him closer. Draco pushed up against him, his height helped coax another kiss away from his bruising and tingling neck. Shifting his weight, Draco huffed out a groan, Harry’s thigh achingly too heavy against him and yet not enough. Bloody torture this was, and he knew Harry was going to take his time, all kisses and teeth and teasing fingers. He pushed down Harry’s fingers across the underside of his leg, gratifying scrapes and Draco nearly came then from the noise Harry made, a wanton, dirty little noise no one would dare believe Potter capable.“Fucking hell, Draco, you’re going to kill me.”Whatever the reason, why Draco hadn’t a clue, but he laughed, dizzy and groaning as Harry scratched at his thighs and nipped at his neck. They fumbled around as Draco tried to move and Harry was too interested in kissing him repeatedly.He didn’t know how long it took for the giggling to subside.He wasn’t quiet about it and Draco was leaving it at that.The aftermath resulted in too many marks against his skin. Sated and nerves of the day gone, Draco eyed Harry’s shoulderblades - a series of red and white lines littered them - he couldn’t say he wasn’t a touch proud of the mess.Draco had taken to twisting and lifting his leg up into the air, examining the marks left. Harry had taken to curling into the pillows, trying his best not to stare too. But Draco could see him, he wasn’t as subtle as he thought.“Doesn't it hurt?”“I like how it feels.” Harry smothered himself into the covers and mumbled. Really, Harry was—“You’re such a prude out of the moment.” He dragged his fingers over the lines and wondered how long they’d stay.“I’m not a prude.” If anyone told him Harry Potter never pouted, this would be the closest counterpoint.“Harry,” Draco leaned over, propped himself up on an elbow and made sure Harry knew there was no escape from this one. “What did you do to my neck? Hmm?” Harry’s face had taken on a nice tint and Draco continued his scandalous whispers. “What do you think?” Harry tried to hide away, into the comfort of the pillows. Teasing was quite safe, as Draco prodded and ran his fingers through the hair at the nape of Harry’s neck. “Come on, let’s hear it. You mauled it.”It may have also been an excuse to test how Harry seemed to relax - melt, for his whole body seemed to slump - whenever Draco had his fingers at his scalp. That was cute, Draco had decided, very much so. Well, clearly he wasn’t getting much of anywhere with this but he continued for a few minutes, playing absent-mindedly with Harry’s constant bed head.“Too scared to say it again, Potter?” How easy it was to slip back into his petulant days, but whether it was the name or the tone, Harry bristled. Immediate, almost, maybe a few seconds to enjoy the hair twirling, before he turned back around eyes dangerous.“I can do more than say it again, Malfoy.”Harry might like to think he won that one but Draco was triumphant, anyone could tell that, even if Draco’s face nipped a little.“Well, you’ll need to call Neville. I doubt anything but his hideous scarf will cover this up.” Twisting down to look at his collarbone as best he could, it wasn’t as if it was just the neck either.“Draco.” His name normally didn’t come with such inflections. It sounded wonderful. “At which point in this did you start to like me more than, than you did.” Harry manhandled his glasses onto his face. “I did destroy your house with a tree.”“In case you haven’t noticed I’ve had a lot going on. I haven’t exactly had the time to gush over thoughts of how I feel.” Not a clue, Draco considered saying. He certainly liked him now, no way to split that fact up. He certainly liked going out with Harry even if it was all Muggles and lacking magic. “So if you are waiting to hear some soppy love confession or a depraved admission of me wanking while thinking of you – be disappointed.” Draco grinned as Harry’s nervousness devolved into trying to smother him with a pillow.“Look, I don’t know if I have a clear cut answer for you. I had a lot of expectations to wade through.” Maybe he would like Harry faster if he hadn’t been wallowing in guilt over moving on. “I do— if we’re being honest here -” The disgust over the word seeped through.Did he say it? Did he say the kiss between dusty books was when he truly started feeling something?“--think you getting me a crup did—”“So your affections are because of the crup?”Harry Potter lacked any and all romantic notions, didn’t he?Ignoring the interruption Draco continued, “To buy it you had to go out of your way to change the rules which govern the entire crup-receiving-world. So, I can’t say you changing the world in my favour is at all negative.”He didn’t look pleased, not a bit. “Neville did it,” Harry ground out Not a Pout on his face. “He gives the place their herbs for the crups apparently, knows the people on the board of admission and adoption.”Well, if Harry wasn’t going to take sweet nothings and romantic notions, falling back into teasing him might be more Harry’s style. Turning over, pushing himself up Draco said, “I’ll have to go thank him then—” Harry curled up on his back, arms squeezing at Draco’s naked torso.Well if Harry wasn’t going to so easily accept his gratitude, Draco would help him along. Turning back over, suspicion on his face, Draco decided he’d taken time off doing what he did best.“So, who came up with the idea to give me a crup?”“I did.”“It was your idea to get me a crup?”“Yes,” Harry said, all Gryffindor and awaiting a false step where he’d need to point out mistakes and act superior (but also act like he wasn’t acting superior because only Slytherins did that). And Draco tried to keep the smirk off his face, trap already sprung. “Neville talked people round though,” Harry added in caution.“Oh, Neville knows I like crups? Awfully observant bloke, no?”“I told him.” Harry wasn’t sure if he was admitting to a mistake or not.“When you asked for help getting me one?”“Yes?”“How much did it take for you to convince him? Did you give up fast? Can’t imagine Longbottom doing me a favour.” Starting to distract Harry with nails and fingers at the nape of his neck made him not much less wary as it did make him yawn wide.“I just—” Harry closed just eyes, the fatigue in his voice catching up.“Got me a crup,” Draco interrupted as he rubbed in circles.“Yeah.” Harry didn’t even resist. Content, Draco twisted round and collected his wand from the holster left on the floor. A few spells and feeling better, he sighed, cast some Potter too because Draco had no intention of leaving this bed again any time soon. With quick naps and kisses, the night seemed warm and peaceful. Until it happened.“Harry,” Draco said.“Hmm...?” “Just in case you're slow on the uptake I am quite fond of you, really, I am.” Harry sighed through his nose, snuggled into him more. “But if you dare put those cold feet of yours on me again, I will hex you from this bed.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“You’re allowed to be happy.” Was one of Matthews' favourite mantras during even the first session and it didn’t seem a particularly wise choice of words even then. Happy? With Harry? He was pretty sure he wasn’t allowed that – from an uptight morally right perspective those Gryffindors liked to use. The world was fair and neat and simple and Draco having their Golden Boy was hardly what they’d count as right or fair.Draco was happy to say he was smug over it. Not even Potter could escape his charms.Out of everyone Harry was cuddled into – it was him – and he nearly laughed at the audacity of himself, at the idea people would be fuming and jealous and mindful of him again. Malfoys got what they wanted, so why shouldn’t Draco have Harry? Of all Draco knew of the world, it had a wicked sense of humour and this was exactly the kind of ridiculousness Draco would expect. Harry had taken a possessive hold onto him at that point in his musing.Well, Draco would take tonight, this morning – whatever time it was right now – and coo over Potter for a while, rather this missed feeling of having someone beside him, warm and accepting and his. Harry hummed a response, borderline conscious as Draco ran his fingers over a scar – one Draco wasn’t familiar at all. Probably sustained in the line of duty doing something wholly foolish and Harry Potterish. It was an indent into his skin, smooth here and there and over the bones of his shoulder.Something was murmured, though Draco didn’t catch it too keen to stretch and yawn and relax further. By the time the sun threatened to blind him and made Harry grumble into the covers, failing to hide, the comfort went with it.“Bugger, move, Harry – Scorpius’ll be here soon.” He fished some of the clothing from the floor – the morning now too cold to waltz around with nothing and Potter seemed to like to hog the covers. The bastard.“Doesn’t he already know?” Harry didn’t sound remotely bothered, didn’t so much as open his eyes. Maybe he was answering in his sleep?“This is not how I want to greet my son this morning.”His grin was entirely self-satisfied. “Now who’s prudish.”He’d been cursed, confuddled – somehow he found that endearing all on its own. Forget it. Priorities: Harry dressed and out of the bedroom before Scorpius potentially Floo’d back home. He was not mentally prepared for what madness Scorpius would ask never mind what he would say. Draco needed some tea and food before he even thought of the possibilities.“If you don’t get out of that bed you will never get back in it.”“Bloody Hell,” Harry huffed, rubbed at his forehead and Draco preened at the win. Win of what? He wasn’t sure, but it felt like a win. “I’ll owl you when I’m not so busy, okay? Even if I don’t get a reply.”At least he hadn’t rubbed that issue, obvious or not, in.“Thank you.” Gratitude was always easier to say the second time round.Draco could hear the smile as he appraised the clothing which had danced over. It took most of Draco’s ability to ignore the feelings, all the nasty ones too – even the horrid voice which wanted him to deny it, save his face and pretend otherwise.Snorting, Harry slipped out of bed. Began picking at his own clothing spread on the carpet.“Might need some help here.”“Dressing yourself? What kind of--” Draco turned to lash out, in a panic Harry was taking his time just to be annoying. To put him on the spot. Harry stared down at his uniform, shirt ruined with barely any buttons holding on. Oh.“Guess you can’t say you don’t like me any more.” He took it back off, rubbed at his head and looked around.While Scorpius did not inconveniently appear as Draco went to the bathroom, followed by a yawning and still indecent Harry – there wasn’t any excuse for him to be wandering around in only his underwear – Harry turned on the taps and rubbed at his face and hair.“I wouldn’t bet on that.”“Just making sure you can’t backtrack from what you said yesterday.”Harry had flattened, somewhat, his hair going by the damp patches. While it sat neater, Draco didn’t resist the urge to mess it up again. The put-together look didn’t really suit him. If there was ever a bloke to spend extra time in the bathroom, it was not him, not even close. The Just-Woke-Up look fit Harry much better. A nice bonus was Harry didn’t seem to mind as Draco did as he pleased and ruffled his hands through his hair once Draco had finished his own preening and grooming. Much better.“I don’t need to go in till later.” His ruined shirt rested on the bed, and Draco pulled his wand to fix it. Knowing Harry’s usual ignorance he spelled the buttons back on.“Slacking off again?” Hadn’t he been doing well these past few weeks?“Hermione wants me to take more time away.” Harry’s smile turned sad. “Guess she’s used to doing things on her own these days.”Letting Harry fall back would do no one any good. Hermione hadn’t a clue this time. No doubt saving face for her own job. Best not allow Harry too much leeway in case it blew up in her face. And with the fact her lack of knowledge over Theo and Blaise? Harry had shortened his own leash quite considerably.“You should retire. Or go back full time. This half-way nonsense isn’t doing much but add stress you don’t need.”“Hermione’ll suffer then. It’ll all come out and she’ll be the one everyone latches onto for why this and why that.”“If you wanted to think about her, you should have done it when it all started. But you didn’t. So move on.”“I can’t just leave.”“Give me one good reason why.” Was it to do with this case? Did it remain unsolved? The criminal still out there? Did it bug Harry that much? That much to panic over it and yet still be confined to going and being a crappy Auror who could barely handle a full days work? “Harry.” All he did was shake his head, seem to fuss over the buttons on his shirt and that was that. No more talking about the problem.“I’ll go a little later.”Harry didn’t go and the day ended. Harry still didn’t go.Letter came and went. Whatever the Prophet wanted, Draco didn’t read much past the passive-aggressive nature of its accusations and set them alight. Why he would ever willingly agree to an interview, he’d never know. Daphne had sent one, a quick check-in, no doubt from Scorpius’ fretting over his health and he wrote back a short – much shorter than normal, and unsigned at that – reply. She would know something was wrong.He prodded Pansy’s letter with a quill.What could she have possibly left for him? A hex? Another curse? It seemed too thick for a simple apology.Careful, careful… He sat back, cast a spell to open it. Let it sit on the table for a moment. No smoke or burning. Draco didn’t trust it, didn’t trust her. A normal letter for now. Inside on what could only be described as a stack of folded over parchment, Draco straightened them, flicked through the varying sized and coloured letters.His eye stopped on his name. Malfoy, not Draco. The silly Ls and wayward Ms were familiar; Features of Blaise’s handwriting. He rushed back, checked overleaf. All addressed to Theo and all from Blaise.Draco balked at them. Refused to read further. Was Pansy having a laugh? To send him these? Of her dearest husbands plan to use him? To go over the humiliation again?“She never changes,” Draco hissed. Loyal, really, to the idea of doing what was expected, to a fault.What did she expect would happen? Off he’d trot to say he now had proof? To two men who – chances were – weren’t even in the country for a crime he wanted no one to know about? He stuffed them back into his pocket. Harry could deal with these, whatever Theo and Blaise planned.Luna’s letters were long and confusing. A flurry of words Draco could barely pronounce never mind understand. He decided against messaging her. Not until his hand was stronger and the impression of the lack of care lessened. He did not want Luna to worry.Speaking of which, Draco wrote a note, not signing it again and had it delivered to Hermione. ‘He’s not off today.’ That had to be concise enough. Now, Harry really had no excuse. None. Unless he was backing away from his word. Draco wouldn’t allow that, not this time.Now he just needed to wait until Harry woke and after everything, Draco didn’t mind leaving the man to nap.“Looks like I have a few hours to waste,” Draco told to his crup, which bounded around the gardens. Lotty huffed and disintegrated taking the orders to remind Draco of the time with some attitude. In turn, Lotty reminded him one minute to eleven, not quite what Draco was expecting but not enough to scold her over.“Harry Potter received an owl, Lotty saw it.” She didn’t wait for an answer and left.The fact Harry wasn’t even dressed – it was almost lunch! - but sat in the bed with the owl – oh no - “Off,” Draco shooed the bird back to where it belonged. Harry read his letter with a smile.“You can read these too.” Draco threw Pansy’s collection onto the bed. “Blaise’s letters to Theo. I don’t want to know what’s in them.”Harry picked them up before frowning. “How did you get these?” Draco explained and left, not keen to watch Harry read them. Checking on his lab, the newest bubbling cauldron, Draco ignored the world around him as he set to stripping more of the plants down to their bases. Not too many left now. He should be done--Harry leaned over his shoulder. “Let’s go to Diagon Alley, I’ve to pick something up.”Right. Draco didn’t trust this. “Sure. Give me a minute.”But go he did, Harry apparating first as soon as he pulled some decent clothes on, alone while Draco went to see to Lotty and give her a few sterner words before playing catch up. She didn’t much reply to his questions and he left her sulking.What was Harry up to now?Harry was waiting for him, watching the owls outside the Emporium but never daring to take a step towards them or offer a word.“You’ve offended Lotty,” Draco announced as he swept by the mangy birds. Harry fell into step, not bothering to ask him to slow down.“What’ve I done?” Scandalized and worried over the offence of a house-elf, hilarious, really that the Saviour of the Wizarding World was so terribly humble for all the wrong reasons.“Offended her,” Draco said matter-of-factly.“Yeah. Thanks for that. Big help.” Draco dodged the wizard trying and failing to levitate an entire basket of kittens and tadpoles while Harry bumped into and apologised to him. Why Harry wanted to meet here was beyond Draco’s understanding.“It’s a little busy, why couldn’t we meet in Knockturn? Or the Leaky?”“Had to do something before we head.”“Head where?”“Luna’s, she’s been worried you haven’t wrote to her like usual in a while. I said I’d help bring you round.”Before Draco could defend his ego, they were forced to walk in single file as a rowdy lot of Hogwarts students came barging through.“I see,” Draco sniffed. He didn’t really want to discuss the fact the only letters he’d wrote were in fact not letters, just little notes which chipped away at his ego with every spot of ink. Letters weren’t-- Draco needed time to ignore how he loathed to sign his own name.“Apparently you wrote to her all the time.” The bump had to be meant and Draco couldn’t stop the smirk slipping onto his face.“Jealous?”“No,” Harry said, as someone hit his shoulder and he stumbled into Draco again. “A bit,” he added as the street crowds began to dwindle and widen. “You never write to me. I get why, just...” Harry shrugged.“Luna it is.”Maybe Harry would realise he never had to write to Harry much because he was always in his bloody house. Or Draco sat perched in the middle of the Aurors without fuss.They went to one of the communal Floos and arrived at Luna’s… house? Luna by far had strange tastes for everything. This seemed more like a lighthouse than a home.Luna was wearing… something. Gadgets worn on her face and in her hands, something else smoking, wafting a horrid lavender around the house. She held it in thick gloves, a strange mask over her face made of metal and springs. Harry didn’t seem concerned and pulled out a handful of owl feathers.“Harry, you did it.” She smiled, sat the awkward shaped pot on her table as she ripped off the mask. “Draco. You didn’t write for so long.”“I haven’t, apologises but things have been… difficult.” Draco looked at his shoes instead of Luna’s usual stare. Bit into his bottom lip and waited to hear of her judgement. Luna tilted her head, whatever contraption sat on the table between them fogged up Harry’s lenses.It began to burn at his nose. He really wanted to sniff, but he knew. It would only make it worse.“Too difficult to write?”Ignoring the downright obvious stare from Harry, Draco admitted, “Very much so. Sorry.” And wasn’t that the crux of the issue? To admit he’d been terrorized by what he had once thought friend – how many people would dismiss him as exaggerating? Of doing it to gain a sympathetic ear? Of it not happening at all? To show his weakness so clear and be called a liar for it.“I believe you.”The deep breath tingled his lungs and Draco coughed it away.“Um, do you know about...” Harry shifted away from the smoking pot as he took of his glasses again to clean against his shirt. In an attempt to be discreet, Harry motioned between himself and Draco.What could he not say it? Luna already knew, didn’t she? Harry gave him this look as if Draco would help him out and Draco snorted. Nope. He floundered and Draco coughed again to hide the laugh.“Harry, you’ve gone very red again.” Such a mischievous smile. Definitely should’ve been a Slytherin. She let it hang in the air as she hit the pot a few times with her wand and it choked to a stop. Then she added, “You don’t have to feel embarrassed.”“Doesn’t make it any easier.”“Am I ‘to be embarrassed about’?”Luna shook her head. “He’s just panicking in case I tell you what he said at the party.”“Luna.” A squeak, a plea between teeth. A groan as Draco whispered to Luna about what on earth she was talking about. She didn’t tell. Draco didn’t think she would.It did make Harry flustered enough to enjoy the red blots again. Ha. Draco knew he wasn’t faking it.But what had he said?The three of them spent time together – mainly Luna chatting about things Draco didn’t know and Harry hadn’t heard of – and sipping at tea. Luna never asked further on the lack of long-winded letters. Harry left after a Howler from Hermione arrived and chased him back to the office. Draco returned home later.Time went by fast and the day finished. The night was calm. His dreams were not.Yelling out, Draco shoved away the weighty darkness. Blaise’s voice still whispering in his head. Sticky, insidious, the pressure only increased no matter how much Draco pulled away.“Wake up.”No. He didn’t want to listen to Blaise, never again. No, no, no.“Draco.”Flinching back he awoke panting, cold sweat upon his back. It wasn’t Blaise or even Theo. Harry was sitting up, magic in the air along with a few lumos orbs planted to the ceiling and playing up the shadows of them against the walls. Oh. This was his house.“You’re okay,” Harry said and Draco nodded though didn’t believe a word of it. He couldn’t breathe, he needed out of here, out of this room, out of this house, the cage he was given to care for until death.“...I’ll…I’ll be back in a while.” He threw the covers away from him.“Where’re you going?”Draco never replied but Harry got his answer when Draco opened the latch on the window and hopped out, wings stretching wide and a cry in the air as he left to circle the Manor in the dark.It was nice to close his eyes and simply fly and swoop. Diving and rolling around in the air without the fear of falling. How grand the world was when he could raise himself above it.To say Blaise’s voice was now on his list of most hated noises, close to the hissing of a snake, Draco shrieked at his own foolishness. Whenever he considered the issue over, forgotten enough to dismiss it without feeling a twinge it raised its hideous head and bit its way into his thoughts. For hours, Draco would be up, constantly thinking. If Harry hadn’t been there, he’d still be mumbling to himself in bed, alone and pitiful.And then there was the other problem. He hadn’t dealt with the reluctance over writing any letters. Harry being the only one Draco hadn’t thought too hard on. Overthinking might have been closer to the truth. On each lap of the Manor, Draco spied Harry watching him from the window.If only--“Fornax! It’s cold! Come back!”Use a heating charm, you git. Draco snapped, though couldn’t bring himself the usual sneer which accompanied him when Harry was annoying. It was still late in the night and Draco fluttered back. Really, waking from a nightmare was easier when it wasn’t muddled with embarrassment. Of all the times for a nasty dream to show itself, why did it have to be now?“Feel better?” Draco ignored the prod on his head and the pets which followed. He hooted, low and as cold as the night. If only--“Have you ever been to Muggle London at night?” Harry might like to think his face only beamed of sincerity and something close to honourable but really – mischievous was closer to what Draco was used to seeing. Hooting again Harry hummed back. “I’ll take that as a no. Unless you’re gonna say you’ve been hiding Muggle clothes.”Should a clothing thief say such things? Harry had stolen a shirt, though it didn’t seem to stop the hair on his arms raising and his skin prickling.Tempting, to undo this form purely to roll his eyes and have him see it was almost too much. Did Harry really assume Astoria, who found Muggles a great novelty and curiosity, would go without ham fisting clothing – another great love of hers – into all the drawers and wardrobes and really, Draco wasn’t so anti-Muggle, he rejected to wear the weird garments neither was he so pro-Muggles did he ever want to leave the house in them. He liked their scarves, not so winding and stupidly long.“You don’t have anything but we could change some for the night. Go to a pub - there’s bound to be somewhere open.” Draco couldn’t imagine there would be much difference between a Muggle and Wizard pub. Boring.“No?” Another poke, another prod at his well-groomed feathers. “Just wanting to sulk?” Prod, prod. Poke, poke. “Well?” Draco glared at the approaching finger and snapped in the air. Try it, go ahead. Potter tried again. Of course he bloody did. Again and again.Snatching out a wing which, morphing in a mixture of confused sensations as it turned into his hand, he held Harry’s, towering back over Potter. His once perching post jutted into his waist. Harry’s hand was cold and Draco scowled.“You’re going to regret that.”“Doubt it.” The needling was-- Ah, Potter always about as subtle as a brick to the face.“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”“Doing what?” He grinned and Draco let himself be dragged into the half-hearted bickering, if only to avoid any talk over what he was fretting over. Harry tried to lull Draco away from the window, a few cheeky but chaste kisses ever the distraction.His hands were cold. Harry’s hands were never supposed to be cold. Tightening, he couldn’t hope to warm them himself, not without magic. When would this helplessness leave him? He couldn’t help but grimace as Harry asked again.“Are you okay?”Really? Was he supposed to weep over everything? Let Blaise take his sleep and take his mind when he’s awake? No. Draco refused. Enough thinking over it. Right, Potter had forgotten no doubt about him being in the Wizarding World again. Muggles typically didn’t just leap from windows unless something was terribly wrong. Draco had done nothing too bizarre, a midnight stroll at best.“Enough, get back into bed--”“You’re coming with, you’ll just sit up all night otherwise.”Draco tried to sound as reluctant as he could but the thought of a warm bed, courtesy of the Human Heater Harry proved too much.“Fine.”The following few days, Harry never made it to the office. Draco never pushed though found the clinginess odd. Did Harry think he’d leave and they’d return to how they were before? If Harry wanted to stick to him – fine – Draco could work with that.“Come on, I’ll give Collins a reason to retire early.”“That’s a little mean.”“And? He started it by saying my son should expect abuse because he’s a bad kid. Idiot doesn’t even know him--”“Take it easy. You’ll mess up your feathers.”For once, Harry played along. No scolding or moral bullshitting in sight. Good. They left and Draco took great amusement striding around Collins’ desk, his face peaky while Harry worked in his office. Collins tried to shoo him away, rolled up parchment in his hand. Ever wary of beak and talon.“Away, away you go. Go somewhere else.”Ha! As if. He shrieked, loud on the inhale and Collins flinched back in his chair.“He really doesn’t like you, did you do something to it?” The young lady eyed Collins but did nothing to help. She covered her nails in a second coat of green, no parchment on her desk. Perhaps Harry hadn’t managed to find work to give her today? Or was she that efficient?“I wouldn’t touch one of these – these – rats of the sky.”“Hey! Owls are lovely!” Another Auror yelled from behind, and yet another shushed him.“It most certainly is not.”“If you didn’t flail around so much, it wouldn’t bother. You’re acting like a mouse.” She tutted to herself as Collins kept a distance from Fornax, the evil owl and rushed to the break room. Draco fluttered between tables, checking to see everyone’s reactions and listen to gossip.Most gave him a glance, some lost their focus in their paperwork and might not even know he was there. A few liked to coo at him and coax a few pats or prods to his feathers. One of which the young man yelling earlier, who had no more than a few years on Scorpius, sat in Auror robes not well-fitted. A bundle of blond hair washed with brown. A quick look at the name said Ollie. Another Auror, one familiar hissed under his breath.“Potter should keep his pets at home.”The partner, Draco guessed going by how Ollie straightened up. This one had a square jaw, nearly too thick for his neck.“Owls are necessary. And allowed by everyone.” Ollie tried again to stroke at his folded wings and Draco hopped over to the other desk, gap barely an inch between them. Nathan, this one with the frown. An expression Draco once wore daily flashed over the young man’s face. A burning resentment. Loathing.“No when they’re distracting everyone.” He scowled at Draco and pretending to be dumb, Draco turned and tilted his head away. In actual fact, he’d be able to hear this pest talk easier no matter the volume now. “He should go. The War’s been over for ages and he still goes on about it. And what good is ‘e? We’re behind and it’s because of him.”This one, this Auror… when had he seen him before? When Siobhan’s body showed up. Hadn’t liked him or Harry then either.Hmm.Harry either needed this job - and to do it up to standard or else all he’d see was failure. Or to be removed from it and its heavy responsibilities. Hermione needed to cut him loose. Harry would stay out of some broken ideal of friendship and remove the idea of him burdening others. But he was, causing problems for others, being here, doing a shitty job and disappearing at random.“Hey, stop. He did good.” Ollie tried to placate him and Draco would’ve snorted at the idiocy if not for keeping his humanity to himself.“He did good, now he’s useless. We got hammered in parchment and it’s his fault. Thinks ‘e can do whatever he likes.”
Draco could use this brat. Harry liked to ignore rules, snap back at others if they annoyed him regardless of rank or societal pressures. And this kid, this kid might give Harry a shove. To quit or to tell Hermione to shove her sabbaticals and her covering up his latest mistakes. Potter did like having to prove himself, one way or another.First task: ingratiate himself to the brat. At least in owl form, that was easier so long as the guy didn’t hate animals. He puffed up a little, neared him.“What? Can’t take a bad word about your owner?”What kind of moron argues, no, eggs on a fight with an owl? Ollie however seemed to take this behaviour in stride. A little too cheerful that one.“Looks like it wants you to pet it.”The tables creaked as Ollie leaned over his. Don’t even think about it, Draco would bite this brat.“What’s it wanting?” Nathan cast a suspicious eye between the two of them. “I thought you bit and squawked at everyone?”“If you don’t do it right now, I’ll never forgive you.” Ollie was in the category of the type of wizard that spent more time wanting to touch crazy creatures than learn how to defend himself against them.“You bite me, I'm turning you into a pigeon.”A stiff and unpleasant clap of the head later, Draco hooted. It would seem this might be easier than he first thought.“Maybe it likes you? I heard it doesn’t let anyone touch it! Except Abbie...” Nathan’s face twitched at the name. “I’m so jealous. Why can’t I give you pets buddy?” Ollie pouted, fell upon the table. Wow. That was dramatic even to his tastes. “Guess you’re the favourite.” It was by no means, not even when Draco was at his most arrogant, could he ever believe the smirk Nathan tried to keep off his face was anything to do with him.“Don’t see why.”On call, Harry had him give assignments and old reports to deliver to the Aurors’ desks. Most thanked him. Being thanked for being an owl? Delivering stuff? Where was his Malfoy pride? He took to screeching at them to hurry up so he could return to Too Cheerful and Moronic Fool. This was a favour to Harry. Ollie twirled an envelope in his hands, turning around to look at Abbie. She was still doing her nails, all her work had been reading and signing off on work already done. The pile Draco dropped off was already flying off to the Archives.“I’ll be back in a minute,” Ollie said, dropping the envelope and leaving his seat. He wiped his hands on his uniform muttering under his breath. Went the opposite way from Abbie, probably heading for the gents.Nathan just looked at it, pretending to read his own returned reports.And then he stopped pretending and looked at it.And then he turned his back from it.Manipulating people might never be a nice, a Good skill. When this had nothing to do with Draco and when these two had nothing to do with Harry and Harry’s own needs. But Draco could make this one useful. And what idiot would ever refuse anything or anyone useful?He swooped for the letter, legs and feet thudding into the wood - most Aurors looked to him. Nathan sat bewildered, he realised and tried to shoo him off the stamped envelope, heavy with cologne. Must be a Half-Blood; what a tacky and informal way to show interest.“No, don’t you stupid—” Nathan swiped, stood up to grab at the letter he’d stolen. The desk shook and Draco wobbled on his feet before he took off. A quick hiding place in the rafters and Draco perched with the envelope in his mouth. A wand pointed at him from below.Three reasons why this one wouldn’t want his precious friend to have his love letter delivered. A lack of confidence, an insecurity he couldn’t compete or knowledge Ollie would ignore him whilst wooing some woman in their office. A knowledge said Abbie was somehow inferior or unlikeable in some way, or, in Scorpius’ words once: a drama-filled love. Heavens. Draco peered to the now returning Ollie.Who’d be in love with that? Scruffy ill-fitted clothing and all. No, this Nathan bloke just disliked the woman.“Give it here. Now.”Ollie practically ran back at the sight. The other Aurors ignored the display completely.“Nate, Nate what’re you doing? You can’t hex owls. Mr. Potter’ll fire you on the spot.” Nathan lowered the wand only by Oliie pushing it down - despite one wrong move and he’d be dead.“It’s got your letter.”Ingratiate himself. Nathan didn’t bother to aggravate the situation. Good. Least they needed was Harry actually seeing this brat attack a human-shaped owl and have his mood sour for the day.“Hey! Are you gonna deliver it for me? What a good-”Draco destroyed it, tearing into it with his beak and ripping the parchment and envelope with ease. Ollie sagged where he stood, heavy footsteps back to his chair.“Hurry up and sign them.” Nathan didn’t wait for the misery to leave his face. Throwing down files while Ollie sighed.“Mr. Potter always does more work when it’s here. You think it’s like a support owl or something?” The idea revived him. “Oh! Oh! Or a spy from the Minister making sure he does everything he's supposed to!”“Do you ever listen to yourself?” Nathan pretended to work, doing nothing but flick through pages quicker than Draco could read them.“I bet it’s listening to us right now!”“Ollie, shut up.”“Fornax, c’mere a minute,” Harry called from the door of his office, opened wide enough to see the stacks, and everyone flinched. A cool magic, like the stark cold from leaving the pub after a night, washed over the room. Draco took that as his cue to go.Door closed tight and magic against him, Draco turned back human.“Stop harassing the poor lot at lunch,” Harry said, as if he hadn’t been amused by his assault on Collins' sanity. Hypocritical Harry.“I’m helping your precious underlings.” Draco took to hunting for what he needed. Had to be in this mess somewhere, but let’s not start casting magic just in case someone would sense it.“Do I even want to know? I've got a few more of these to go out.”
He seemed proud of the little towers of parchment sitting on his table too innocent for what they held. Murders and tortures, thefts and harm all but guaranteed. Pushing some of the stacks around on the cabinets, Draco spied the circle of white. Got it.“I need you to put tape on my leg.” Throwing down the roll on Harry’s desk, used for cuts of the magical kind and owls feet for sores after a long travel carrying twine - sometimes used by the lazy or ignorant to keep notes together, Draco turned back into an owl. Pleased to see Harry already picking it up.“Sure, that’s a completely normal sentence.” A shake of his head but complied all the same. Owl legs were rather thin in regards to the talons and toes. Harry muttered many swears at how the tape tried to twist and stick to itself instead of Fornax’s leg. “You aren’t even hurt?”Draco nudged the tape with his beak. Not the point he was trying to make.Flexing and relaxing his foot - claws, talons? - Draco would never really understand how to describe the idea his hands were both his wings and his mouth and his feet all while still being separate within themselves. He thought of picking something up and yet it was his whole body that seemed to ping with intent, never mind just one limb.Not too tight, Draco nipped at Harry’s finger. Not enough to even scratch at his skin but Harry yelped and looked at him.“If I hurt you just hoot, no need for biting, you can do that in human form if you want later.”His feathers puffed up. Heavens above, someone silencio this man before he says anything else. Speaking with an owl, remember? He tried to say, what if— what if someone overheard that? The fool. He made sure to glare his best, vilest, most intimidating look yet.Harry laughed at him.“Everything’s fine, stop fussing.”And attacked him - attacked him - messing up his crown and crest feathers and — Draco tried to nip at him but an owl’s beak was small. Bastard, this would take forever to sit right. He flew, fled and shrieking by a stack of unfinished paperwork. Potter would pay for this.“Haven’t had that thought in a while.” He reclined in his chair, drumming his fingers on the armrests. “You’re up to something.”Well, obviously, Potter. He hissed, shoving off a stack of parchment in a flurry of rage. Why. Why. How. How did Harry know these things?“Play nice.” Three thumps against the door and Draco stilled. Had they heard Harry speak? Had they heard him? “What’s wrong now?”The magic left and the door opened.Nathan handed off a file which fluttered onto the desk without noise. “A lot of things, but this needs your signature.”Now, he had to play this carefully. Nathan was right about Harry being awful at his job. Having him frustrated enough to go over Harry’s head would do no one any good. If he could let Harry see he was the ‘Bad Boss’ and show this brat Harry wasn’t lazy then perhaps Harry might remember why he chose to be an Auror all those years ago and office relations might heal -- His plan paused as Harry froze, glancing to him.“Did this just come in?”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Forgotten was the plan to pique Harry’s rampant curiosities, for whenever Draco did anything Potter always seemed to know and seemed unsettled until he figured it out. Forgotten was the idea to have the Auror bicker with Harry, pull him up for the inconsistencies and the yet too celebrated victories. Improvement meant nothing if he stopped constantly challenge himself. Staying in an office, signing old parchment along with crisp ink meant nothing as of yet. He was behind. Maybe the case Harry resented, feared so much was getting too close while keeping his original pace. If he wanted to never see it again, fine. But the rest of this place was running only on interference from Hermione, and Weasley's help to steer the Aurors. Nathan glanced to the floor, where the evidence of Draco's tantrum lay. “He’s in the interrogation room.” What? Who? Draco flew to the desk. Far be it his desire to know everything going on in the Auror department, Harry’s glance towards him said more. What was this about? All while Harry tried to shoo him away as Draco twisted his head to look at the parchment. Definitely hiding something. “Well? Can we get on with it?”Nodding, Harry signed it. Draco shrieked at the name. Blaise. They’d found him. They had him. He flapped his wings to keep Harry from passing it before he could read more. What was he charged with? What punishment faced the bastard? Too much legalise and drawn out details before it was out of Harry's hand.“Once you’ve finished, take him to the Unspeakables, see if they can dig up anything.”It floated back to Nathan’s hand leaving Draco to scowl. The Unspeakables? Why would they need those weirdos? Too quiet, too blank in the face to be mistaken as anything else, wearing dull grey worn by folk who lacked any sense of presence, who lacked any enthusiasm for all the magical world contained.“If you interfere, I’ll go to the Minister.”“Just don’t screw this up.”Nathan left with a snort and a freshly signed ink. The door closed. A familiar blanket of magic wrapped around the room. Draco shifted, talon to nail. He didn't speak, the question easily in the air already. Harry could try, and fail, to avoid explaining. He scratched at his temple, looking away from where Draco perched on the table. Harry closed his eyes, sigh heavy.“Blaise has signs of being Oblivated along with saying some things that don’t really fit with what we know.” Draco blinked. All he’d known for months was the anxiety of their return, the scars left from them in their wake. And now? Blaise just forgot it all? “The phrase ‘dull as swamp-water,’ about Theo for one seems a little off.”Oblivated? How much had Blaise supposedly forgotten? “He’s lying.”“I don’t think he is.”A scratching of understanding came then but he couldn’t accept it. Draco stood, moved away, blood harsh in his ears. “Then what? What are you saying?”Say it aloud so Draco could curse it back. Harry bit the end of his quill, seemed to think for once before he spoke. He said, “Do you think Theo capable of the Imperius?”“Stop it. It was Blaise, he did it. He said ‘sorry’ before he hexed me in the face.” For once, Draco didn’t try and keep the welling dam hidden.What was he supposed to do? Pray his friend had only – what – been under the same kind of torture? Or face that he had betrayed him and had taken the cowardly way out? Only as his arm was yanked did Draco see Harry at his side, pulling him up and Draco’s legs were like a newborn deer. “Sit.” Draco sat. A cold sweat across his brow. He'd curse the two of them if he saw them. He'd never been so- so--Harry knelt down, kept the intensity in his eyes – the same he had back in the Hogwarts bathroom - and hands on his. “Do you think Theo’s capable?”Draco nodded. Refused to think on how impossible it was to really know if someone was a victim to Imperio. His father stayed well outside any punishment at the excuse. But what if? What if it was real? What if that rat-faced Theo had done all of this?“If I said Blaise remembers only last year, at a Yule Ball, would you know anything?”“A year?” The words strangled him and he wiped at his forehead with a sleeve. “It was Pansy’s party. Malfoy would have followed this year but--” But things happened and Draco would not host this one this year regardless. “Do you remember seeing Blaise there? Did you speak?”“Of course, I never take Scorpius to those things. Really dull affairs. Blaise and I would drink and end up teasing Pansy for--” He cleared his throat, saliva too thick to breathe. “For having to marry and shag Theo.”“How did Theo and Blaise interact? Did he hear that?”“The way he always did.” Draco shrugged. “Scowl, stay quiet. Blaise just kept going regardless of reaction. The usual. Oh.” A vague conversation, it hadn’t meant anything, the words no longer remembered in totality. “Theo made a face.” Why had he made that expression? What had they talked about? “Theo’s a curious sort. He made that face when you give him a puzzle and its solution all in one.”“Him being miffed being ripped on isn’t that weird.” Harry frowned and Draco couldn’t take it. Potter stood up. Seemed more confused over the information than placated. Paced the tiny space within the paper-crowded office. “Theo has never bothered about Pansy or their obvious lack of feelings for each other. Ever. They didn’t even dance at their wedding never mind kiss. That’s why no one was surprised when they heard rumours about Pansy sleeping elsewhere.”“Would Theo really do all this because of one insult at a party?”“It—” Draco shook his head. “I can’t remember. It was ages ago. All I see is his face and everyone laughing at whatever was said. If Blaise thinks yesterday was the Yule Ball, he might remember.” Harry agreed, it seemed the best idea to let Blaise talk, see if he accidentally gave information away he should not have. Blaise, Blaise, Blaise. Which, left the burning question, a question the more he thought on it the more Draco wanted to start throwing hexes. “Where’s Theo?” Where was he? Why was it only one parchment sent? “We haven’t found him yet.” Just Blaise? Just an Oblivated Blaise who might’ve been under an Imperio? “Do you think Theo did it cover himself? Or to give Blaise an excuse, a way out?” Theo never did like to own up to his mistakes. Had he thrown Blaise into the deep end and set him up? How genuine was Blaise? How much information did Blaise hold if Theo released his control and remove the last year from his head? “I don't know.” Energy sapped out of him and for a while he sat in Harry's chair. “Go home. I'll let you know how it goes.”He didn't argue. Draco returned home as an owl, sat on his roof and tried to calm. Did he hope for Blaise's innocence? Even if he did, even if Blaise was another victim, how could Draco ever think, even fathom to move past the betrayal? How could he explain his feelings to someone else when he couldn't name them? When he could barely move on from the rage and hurt into anything else. What could he say? What was he supposed to say? Should he say he was glad Blaise was under Theo's Will all along? For how long?And what if the fake hope only helped Blaise, the Traitor slip back into his life with an excuse.But what if Blaise really hadn't chosen to betray him? He chirped, he had hoped one day he would awake and it all be a nightmare not worth another thought. Forget it. Kill the false hope, destroy the inkling of light out of all this. This mess. He flew around, going wherever the wind decided to blow. The Muggles were out in large numbers today, most with one-tailed crup look alikes, and Draco perched on another roof, though not or long. An owl out in the middle of the day would probably alarm most. Was it pathetic of him to want to forgive Blaise at the drop of a single possibility? Blaise had always been there and now he wasn't. Draco had other things to do, more important questions to ask.He returned to the crup, eager for its uplifting presence and Lotty's constant refills of tea. Later on, he took Harry up on his own issued ultimatum. Going over to visit Ginny was both on Draco’s agenda and also put off for as long as possible. They didn’t talk, they didn’t natter or have small talk even these days. He spoke well enough – pleasantly as much as a Malfoy and a Weasley could – with Ron. One Weasley was enough. Now, Draco was expecting to open up wounds Ginny probably wouldn’t want to share. Perhaps, Harry would have owled her and softened the blow, stopped it being about Ginny’s secrets and more about trying to find a solution to Harry’s.Wasting time, Draco spent time with Decimus while the dog had its daily run. Only when the crup was panting, wheezing breathes with its long tongue out and nearly foaming, Draco let the crup back inside to have a well earned drink and nap.Draco apparated in the afternoon and took his time wandering the streets to a house he knew before he received an odd look from a Muggle – and he knocked, not wishing to have any more attention on him. For a moment, Draco could see her behind the windowpane of the door, blurry and still and maybe she was thinking about refusing to open the door to him.Please, refuse.“Malfoy.” Ginny didn’t open it wide enough for Draco to see if Lily was inside or not. He’d prefer having this chat without anyone around.“I’d like to talk about Harry and his magic.”She glared at him for some time before she wilted and left the door open. “Better come inside then.” Draco didn’t take long to follow along to the kitchen with her. She accepted him here but Draco couldn’t say what questions or statements might unleash that infamous rage of hers.“He’s not doing well again?” She busied herself making some coffee, though the speed she did it at made Draco wonder if she felt as awkward standing there as he did.“I was wondering if you knew about--” Draco wasn’t sure if he should sit by the kitchen isle or stay standing in case he needed a fast exit. Sitting felt too intimate, like he was welcome here. He was not and Draco was under no illusion Ginny wanted him gone. “--About his magic, the one that feel like your bones will snap under it.” The coffee pot shattered on the floor and Ginny had a hand over her mouth, eyes closed. Terror again, but--“Ginny?” She sat, slow and paled which made the freckles on her face stand out more.“I love Harry,” her voice warbled but she didn’t cry. “I, something’s you can’t get passed.” Draco spelled away the mess, sat down on the opposite of the kitchen counter and waited. “He lies a lot, I told you. I bloody told you lot. Why don't people listen when I say it?” Rubbing at her temples she seemed to try and calm down from the thought of that magic, that dark magic Harry had only ever shown him once.Draco flexed his hand, he could still feel it snaking up his arm like another Dark Mark. “He does and you did.”“I’ll always love Harry, understand.” The promise of a threat didn’t need to be said.“We had just started Charlie’s potions and everything was great. I mean,” she smiled, but it was one with tears being fought back and anger, such raging anger. Draco found it difficult to keep looking at her. “It was like all the years before hadn’t happened. It was-- He was sleeping and the kids were happy and--” she sniffed loud and tried to keep going as if she had kept it all bottled up, and now it was spilling out.“Are you shagging my husband?” Draco flinched at the tone but said nothing. Wrong, so very wrong for anyone to ask that question. No, he should be able to say. She probably already knew or at least had some suspicions. Maybe Harry had shared yet more of himself with his wife – weird if true. A scoff, one filled with the same disdain he was used to hearing on the streets and Ginny shook her head. “No. I don’t want to know. Forget it.”She squirmed in her seat and Draco wanted to do the same.“Harry and I were talking about him retiring or taking some time off and it was just a little fight. Nothing even you could call a fight, just bickering. Like a married couple.” Draco handed her a handkerchief that was in his pocket. He wasn’t very well equipped to deal with anyone tearing up but he could do this much. Ginny awkwardly left it on the counter, took to twisting a washcloth in her hands. He could understand in a way, he wouldn’t want to cry in front of her either.“And we go to bed and we sleep and...” And Ginny starts, not crying, but a noise followed her while her shoulders shook too. Draco backed out of his seat. Maybe he should have owled a letter asking?“Ginny, I--”“Oh, shut it Malfoy.” And he did while focussed on the counter top as she sniffed. “I woke up, y’know and you’ve felt it.” Draco nodded, there was no way he would forget it. The chill and torment it promised as it washed over his skin. Ginny scratched her fingers through her hair, pulling it all over to fall on one shoulder, and Draco blinked.The magic had strangled her like a perfect hand. Her neck was scarred, black and scale-like. She stopped, in the way Gryffindor decided to do something stupid – brave – and Draco couldn’t do that. Couldn’t stop the paranoia welling up – maybe Harry was truly awful?Finally becoming a little calmer as she scrunched up the cloth and rubbed her face dry. “--Harry was so concerned and I could tell, I mean, of course he didn’t mean it. He was sleeping. And he’s ill. But, but I couldn’t sleep there any more, not next to him. He was so guilty, didn’t even want to sleep in the house in case--”How could he do this to his wife? “Do you-- do you forgive him for it?”“I don’t need your pity Malfoy. Not when you’re the one he’s decided to chance at shagging.”Draco, awkward and feeling a lash of shame, just looked away from her again. Harry had told Ginny something. He wasn’t sure how he really felt about that. Potter can tell who he likes and he couldn’t say a word? Who would he even tell? His parents over brunch?“It’s—It’s fine.” Ginny struggled to say it. “We’re just together for Lily and after we can both move on officially. And I hope for his sake he goes and gets help.”“You said this happened when he was just on Charlie’s Potions.” The timeline Harry gave him only gave a hint there were problems because of the lack of sleep, because of a once off incident involving the children. Something involving an Auror case. Not this, not hurting his wife no matter how involuntary it was. Ron’s anger seemed more understandable. Draco had no siblings but he knew how protective he could be. Scorpius was going to stay away from Harry for a while longer, not until Harry got help. This wasn’t safe.Would he wake strangled too?“If his magic was uncontrollable even then – before the dragonblood became too toxic...” How long had Harry claimed to have the potions? Six years? Without the dragonblood to cause havoc then it was Harry’s Will completely and utterly at fault. He’d simply did what he’d done all those years: kept up the illusion he was fine. If not the potions, then what else could damage a wizard’s Will?“Did he ever have to take time off work? Years ago, I mean, before all these problems, before the potions.”Worth a shot. Ginny shook her head. “Most of the time it’d be me complaining for him to stay home, see the kids. Spend time with Albus. They’ve never been close. They just don’t see the world the same. He loved work for the longest time.” She seemed to ponder on her own for a little while and Draco let her, maybe she would know something. The silence was far too awkward and Draco could have used the coffee.“He was off once, really off, for a little while. Well before all this – this bullshit. But he bounced back, he always did.” Ginny sniffed in defiance and Draco waited to see if it was a horn to call her infamous anger. “Since back then? That’s what you’re saying? All that time? And he’s been--” Ginny shook her head, hands clasped tight.“How long ago was that?”“Seven years? Albus was still in Hogwarts,” Ginny scowled, and Draco didn’t know what he’d done to cause it. “When Albus stayed over the summer, at your – the Manor – Albus and Harry’d had a falling out. We didn’t even agree it was a good idea. But I thought giving them some space would help.”Ah, Draco remembered Scorpius had been delighted, more than any gift he’d ever bought the boy at the letter Albus would stay the entire summer holidays. They’d been surprisingly well behaved, though he supposed that’s what two Slytherin’s did. Not like two Gryffindors that have to find something to out-brave each other at. Or whatever it was Gryffindors do.“What did they argue about?”“Harry was...” Ginny didn’t seem to want to say.“That bad?” Draco wasn’t sure if Ginny took it as a jab or glib joke but she scoffed at him worse than any shopkeeper had through the years.“He wasn’t… being a good father. Controlling, I suppose. He was never like that before.”“You suppose?”“If Albus wanted to go somewhere, Harry’d give off a list of everything that could go wrong and how Albus couldn’t possibly keep himself safe. It started to make Lily nervous too, so we argued a lot. It was too much.”“Something made Harry panic about the safety of his children?” He knew Scorpius had been cut out fast from Albus’ life when it was a possibility of a Dark influence (though if Harry ever knew Scorpius he’d know the boy hadn’t the proclivity for such magic or evil). Was there someone out there hunting Harry’s children? Was there a danger everyone else was unaware of, why not say?“Yeah and I don’t know. He never told me. I would ask and he would say, ‘It’s not like that,’ and nothing else.” As if she’d been slapped, she sat stunned, face reddening. “Yeah, just, could you go?” She put her hands over her eyes and Draco didn’t need to be asked twice. “I’ve had enough of this, of you.”“I’ll go have a word with Ron, see if I can’t strong arm Potter into some sort of help.”Ginny laughed bitterly at his suggestion.“Be my guest. We've all had him promise. He's lied to everyone.” Draco apparated out of the house, back to his own and took some time to remove the mental image of that blackened skin like a bruise unable to heal from Ginny’s neck.How was he supposed to feel, knowing what he did now, knowing what Harry had done to Draco’s own neck the previous night? How was he supposed to reconcile these two? Perhaps, no – definitely Harry hadn’t considered them linked until he saw the marks the next morning. It spoke on how his mood had soured and – not a mood – guilt had settled so strongly.Out of everything, Draco never thought he’d feel disgust over anything Harry did but right now. Nothing could halt the blame, the damnation – how could anyone ever hurt their wife and consider themselves fine? How hadn’t Harry rushed to be helped then? How could he be so wrong?Was Harry beyond saving? Was he broken, never to be put back together?(People aren’t vases, Draco. Matthews said once, when Draco had said the War broke him. He’d found the interruption maddening and insolent. Clay, he added, people were more like clay – easy to shape and steal from, but never enough to ever take away what could be – Draco had lorded the idea as hypocrisy. If he were clay he’d easily paint over his Mark and be done with it. Matthews said painting doesn’t go on softened clay, it goes on vases and Draco had found the entire discussion far too pompous even for him).He Floo’ed to Hermione’s home, surprised it was open but not wishing to lose the chance, decided to go immediately. Ron was in front of the Muggle Box watching a show, on a seat which might be trying to eat him itself, when Draco Flooed into his house. He didn’t seem at all worried or surprised at Draco’s appearance and Draco wondered if Hermione had people coming in and out of the house at all hours.“’ione just left. You could probably still catch her.”“I’m here to talk to you.” Ron mimicked Ginny's scowl from earlier. “About a case Harry worked. Before he was ill.” If Harry had pulled Ron away from his brother back to the Aurors to help him, it must’ve been a case which caused this amount of friction in the first place, another domino to fall. Draco wouldn't bet, but he knew which one. But he didn't know what was inside it. “Don’t know,” Ron said as he shrugged, went back to watching the Muggles. “Wasn’t in the Aurors back then, well I’d left it but--”“And he didn’t say a word to you? This was before any of the issues of his magic came up. You two would have still been the best of friends.”Conflicted, Ron muttered a few curses and killed the Box dead. If Draco had to guess, he too wasn’t keen to throw away relationships on the pinnacle of an accident. An accident which had hurt his dearest little sister.“How much do you know about Harry’s life, before Hogwarts?”“He wasn’t cared for…?” Draco didn’t know how to word it. Would it have been unfair to say abused? All because Draco didn’t think it sounded right, but then again he hadn’t thought a lot of things sounded right when it came to Harry’s upbringing even at Hogwarts. “Neglected.” Draco decided on. Finally, Ron turned to look at him.Ron scoffed, “That’s putting it lightly. Look I know what you’re talking about… vaguely, yeah. But if you start with the whole ‘this and that’s the reason’ and trying to make it all okay for what he did--”“Harry’s ill but I think we both know that he’s not the type to admit it. Tell me what you know and I’ll drag him to therapy myself.”Ron rubbed at his hair, scowling and Draco assumed he’d be thrown from the house as Ron stood from his seat.“I don’t know the details, alright? It was a case involving a kid, I’m pretty sure. Harry was like a ghost for a bit, wouldn’t say a word to any’f us. Everything was okay for a bit after and then he started taking the potions. And now we’re here.”Curious how Ron knew of the potions and yet Hermione did not.A kid. Involved in an Auror case? Well, children were always a pressure point for people. Scorpius was Draco’s – not that Draco wished harm on any child – just he simply thought of Scorpius whenever anyone ever brought the topic up. Did the child die? Was that it? (Was that it? Cold language that, Matthews would accuse him).Draco couldn’t say it wasn’t. It would explain Harry's overbearing nature towards Albus as Ginny had said. “If Harry does get better will you--”“I’m not going to believe it. It’s not like I’m the bad guy here. He kept saying he’d get a Healer or talk to someone and he didn’t. He’s a bloody liar an' has hurt everyone I care about--” Including me, probably was best not said but Draco could hear it, Ron could probably tell too given how he huffed. “--and the pillock’s just gotten worse as time’s gone on. I'm at the Aurors for Hermione, for my wife and her reputation. Not him.”Definitely a case, whatever file was in that stack, Draco would stake his Vault Key on it now. If only he knew of the details, the dates… he could find it himself.“What month would you say this happened in?”Recognition flashed over Ron’s face and Draco froze believing himself caught before he’d even managed to formulate much else of his plan.“You want to look it up?”Ron hadn’t turned red like his hair or done the usual puffing around when he was close to losing his anger. If anything, Ron should have been a Hufflepuff, if only he hadn’t Weasley blood, for his loyalty to Harry. Draco chanced it.“I could use an Auror to pull the file.”He stood there hoping this was no misstep and told the one person who could easily keep Draco away from the Aurors and put everyone on alert with ease. Harry might have a few dissenters if Ron decided to show him up more at the office and Draco wouldn’t manage even sneaking in as Fornax if Ron put in further restrictions.Ron stormed off, picked up his cloak from the hook by the front door and ham-fisted it on. “Bloody hell, come on.”Having a Weasley accompany a Malfoy was rarer – no – never recorded before this point. With Ron charging off after they’d Floo’ed to the Ministry, Draco called to slow down, to calm down, because it would only bring attention to him, Malfoy, horror of horrors.Ron calmed in the lift, greeting some folk with a nod or a promise to a pint and Draco stayed quiet. Finally, he was going to have some information which would help him understand Harry. Unfortunately, the file was in Harry’s office and there he sat, looking conflicted at the sight at both of them coming in. Draco closed the door quietly seeing as their appearance had made some Aurors perk up at their desks.“Harry.” Draco was the only one to greet him. Going straight for the large stack – still untouched at the back of the room – Ron cast a spell and the parchment started to sort itself.Harry ignored Draco.“Ron.” Harry stood up, alarm in his voice. “What are you doing?” The stack whittled down to a dozen or so, hanging static in the air.“I’m doing Malfoy a favour. Bloody hell how did we get here?” Clawing at his hair, Ron seemed more distressed over the idea he was helping Draco than trying to find out the moment Harry had broken a little. “Helping Malfoy. Again.”Ron didn’t say anything, Harry didn’t say a word and Draco watched between the two. If he could deduce anything from these two, Harry wasn’t stopping Ron from reading – he didn’t want him to read anything going by the horror on his face – and yet nothing happened. No magic burned. Harry hadn’t raised his wand.Ron flicked through each of them until he stopped at one of them. Snatching from the air, Ron glared at Harry. And then, he slammed the parchment into Draco’s chest and made his way out.“He’s all yours.”If Harry hadn’t littered his neck with such gusto that night Draco might have allowed that comment to pass without so much as a twitch. But he didn’t, he nodded, a thought he hadn’t concealed and rid himself of those marks – he most certainly had – and Ron could see it, them, clear and red. Draco found the floor interesting and let Ron leave. Should he read this, right now? In front of Harry? To think such a light bunch of parchment could cause such trouble.“You were supposed to talk to Ginny.” Harry made it sound like he was the one to betray his trust.Bristling at that tone Draco shot back, “Let me ask you a question, Potter.” Misplaced anger, Draco hurtled his own accusations too embarrassed over what Ginny might know, what Harry might have told her, what Harry might have gained some twisted satisfaction from that night. “Did you get off on the fact you bruised me the same way you scarred your wife?”“No, no-- how could you think that? It happened while I was asleep. Do you--” Harry was a trembling pale mess but he fumed in horror. “You really think I’d do that to Ginny, I love Ginny--”He never meant it, had any control over his magic when asleep. But Draco shook his head as Harry approached him. Held onto Draco’s arms as if he’d fall if he didn’t.“You need help, Harry. No potion will give you that. You have to know that.”Draco was quiet despite the usual charms and wards in place to keep their conversation from others. But Harry was a mess, a scared mess, easily frightened like a kneazle. This was someone else, in the shape of Harry Potter but the boy who’d marched to his own death was nowhere to be seen.“I can’t. I can’t.”He might have started to cry as he clung on. Draco didn’t look to see, his vision focused on the door. Watching the light shift as those outside moved around, grounded him. He would have to walk through a room of Aurors before reaching the Ministry Floos. Calm, collected, detached.Spoiling and soothing tempted him, to calm Potter’s distress and mutter everything would be fine. “Harry.” Let himself stay still as Harry tried to speak again, to dismiss it all again. It was be easy, to cuddle in close and do nothing more than ignore it. Let Harry go on and pretend he couldn’t tell anyone, ever. To breathe in and hug into him and let this go, push it aside and that be it.For a traitorous second, Draco closed his eyes, Harry close and more nervous than Draco had ever seen him. The file in his hand forgotten as Draco pressed a kiss to Harry’s forehead.“When did you get so scared?” Pushing Harry away, and he too seemed to realise Draco wasn’t going to offer any more comfort because right now Draco couldn’t handle this and Harry scrambled a little, trying to keep him here.This mess was Harry, all entangled up in whatever trauma he was most definitely not dealing with and Draco couldn’t. Couldn’t hope any more because this wasn’t an issue about Draco caring about him. Harry didn’t care, didn’t think he could change, didn't want to face the problem. He threw the folder on Harry’s desk as he left. In a daze he returned to the Manor and didn’t stop for anyone who might have called his name.It didn't matter if Draco knew. “I fall for a woman destined to die early and then a fallen Harry Potter who’s scared of something that’s already happened.”Decimus rested its chin on his shoulder, about sleeping from the constant pets to its ears, Draco couldn’t criticise the crup yet again jumping up onto the bed. It didn’t really matter. The beast at least gave him some distraction.“There’s nothing I can do, is there?” He said to no one and wished to drift off to sleep but his mind whirled more. What could he do? Nothing. And yet again, in this bloody Manor, he was just waiting for Harry. If only he could fix this.Scorpius appeared near dinner, popped in and asked if he was okay. Draco dismissed him and Scorpius in return, worried, made a threat he’d stay the night to make sure. Draco nearly laughed at the gall. “Just go, Scorpius.” His son thankfully did go back out, a hint of Butterbeer in the air already, though not before he threatened to return with Albus later. The little shit. At least he was having fun.Sometime later, Harry Floo’d in, the Manor told him of his return. Draco stayed on his bed and let Decimus sleep.Harry hovered around but didn’t quite brave the door without some encouragement.“Harry.”Draco wasn’t sure if he would have heard him. Tired and wondering if this was worth the hassle – he had been happy this morning, how could emotions shift so fast? He wanted, desperately for Harry to curl up and be him again, beside him. Not this. Anything but this mess. Slowly, Harry came into the room and looked as guilty as Draco assumed he would. What were they going to do now?(What do you want to do? Matthew would ask, on and on until Draco gave an honest answer).He knew the phrase well: I want them to stop being ill.Upon reaching the bed, Decimus stirred, gave Harry a look before Draco motioned for it to drop off the bed. The crup lay on the floor, not eager to leave and not pleased to be demoted. Harry practically slithered, in a manner quite Slytherin, back into bed and he murmured again.“I could tell you.”Harry was tired, his eyes back to being dull and far away. The same gauntness that seemed to remind Draco he’d never really been better. Just better at hiding it. “Harry.”All Draco had to do was say yes, have his curiosities sated, urge Harry on and find out what was going on in that head of his. Knowing wouldn’t help. Harry would lie again, later, just as he had his family and his wife and his friends. Since Harry hadn’t been yelled out of the house, or have the Manor cast him out, Harry tried to hug into him and Draco couldn’t handle it.
Don’t act like everything’s fine.
Harry might not go to a Healer. Might rather stay in his delusion than stay with Draco – and his pride couldn’t take that. No. He wished for that morning again when he was ignorant. Maybe this was how Ginny and Harry dealt with everything: keeping their problems hurting away from everyone else in agreed silence. Could he do that?Pretend everything was fine? He pawed a little at Harry’s ridiculous hair.He couldn’t.“You’ve hurt everyone. Telling me changes nothing. You need help – professional help.”“I can’t, I can’t tell anyone.” Harry lulled away to sleep again, closing his eyes as Draco’s hands disarmed him once again. “I’m supposed to be the good guy.” He tried to make a joke. Like this wasn’t serious. Like this wasn’t a big deal. Like he’d get out of it. Like he’d done this before.“I still have the names of the Healers I considered, look through them tomorrow.”“I can’t.” What Draco heard was ‘I won’t’, and Draco couldn’t bare to hear it one more time. Draco sat up and left Harry on the bed. His stomach was cramping, swirling and sickening, he hated this.Why did he have to choose? Draco did what he normally did in times of crisis, he ran away. And Harry did what he normally did, he chased after him. Draco snapped, not eager to talk more on this topic when he still had no answer. Perhaps he should ask Matthews his opinion. (Though dating advice seemed too lowly an ask for a Healer).“Harry, I mean it. You either go see one or you go from here.”Unlike the guilty, feeble little Harry that’d wormed his way back inside, he was back to yelling. “And I said don’t give me ultimatums.” He sounded too close and Draco decided he might Floo to France. The sitting room was too small now, as Draco ran away and Harry seemed to understand Draco was leaving, not simply stretching his legs. The Floo was just there. “What are you expecting? We talk and whatever’s wrong with you is magically fixed?” Draco didn’t stop, he didn’t want to agree with Harry’s fantasy all would be well so long as they both ignored it. No, Draco had watched Astoria die, spent his nights wishing for longer. If she’d ever had an option to extend her time, she’d take it. Harry’s lack of self-care was beyond frustrating.“How is me telling you any different from me saying it to a Healer?” Harry huffed, sounding a tad too angry – Draco was the one who was allowed such an emotion right now. If he had accepted Ginny’s story then Harry was supposed to go – hadn’t that been the deal?“Because I can’t provide you anything but platitudes, they can help you process--”“I don’t want to process it!”“We both know you’re ill. Everyone who knows you, knows you’re ill.” Harry scowled as if they were back in the Ministry throwing insults and hexes at each other. “How can you stand there and say you're fine? I've seen it. I seen how you ruined your marriage--” Harry stared, gone away into whatever thoughts haunted him. “I know you hurt Ginny, I know you put my own son in harm’s way-- You've been lucky to have friends that are willing to shoulder your responsibilities. Unlucky for them, I imagine.” His once attempt at logic turned too frustrated and angry to talk clearly. He shut his mouth, too reminded by his childhood whining and complaining. How could you tell someone they were ill when they didn't acknowledge it? All he needed was a handful of Floo powder and he wouldn't need to have this conversation.Harry hadn't moved and Draco sighed. The fight had left him too. “Do you even know how much you've fucked up--”“I killed a kid,” Harry blurted out. Draco sat down, stunned to silence, weak at the thought. Harry meanwhile was not, he kept talking and Draco could only half-hear what he was saying. “I don’t deserve to ‘process’ it.”“Deliberately?”“Deliberate? It doesn’t make a difference, he’s dead and it’s my fault.”Draco nodded, wanting him to skip ahead. How, why? How could Harry Potter kill a child? That didn’t really happen. That couldn’t have happened. He couldn’t stomach this. These awful questions which begged: what if Harry was right? What if it was his fault? What was Draco supposed to do? What if Harry was unforgivable forever?They’d go round and round and round with this pleas of help and refusals. They couldn’t keep going like this.“Show me it. Show me the memory.”Taking the balked silence, Draco stood. Harry didn’t shift as Draco led him, hand around trembling wrist, to the closest pensive in the Manor. If Harry had fought him on this point, had pulled his hand away and fled Draco could at least argue back and set aside this panic welling up in himself too. They walked in silence, the occasional scuff of Harry’s trainers reminding Draco this could be it.What was he going to see? What had Harry done? Please let it be mistake, a misunderstanding.They rounded to the conservatory, pensive sitting in the middle, a few family heirlooms attached upon the ceiling. All dark metal and white pine. Neither spoke as the pensive filled and Draco waited, never outright asking for him to pull the memory out of his head. Draco expected a hint to the memory as Harry dropped it into the water. To think the little wisp of light held something horrid and damaging. It looked no different than Draco’s memories of his son, precious and happy.And then Harry nodded, looked away and Draco dunked his head under.The world in Harry’s view was startling, on the basis Draco didn’t typically have to look up to people often. Harry was with two Aurors, the memory provided the names in a whisper, nothing important, nothing Draco required.Trainee Auror and Head Auror at the time. Though the idea of a Trainee Auror – a trainee elite was absurd as it was necessary going by how the Head Auror hovered around him. Why these two were with Potter was never stated. The three of them stood outside a lop-sided home with peeling yellow paint which sat upon a hill overlooking more homes and a river that looked brown. An abandoned trolley jutted from the middle.This one was alone and Draco heard the Auror Trainee say something about Dark Magic. And, the memory blurred, unfocused and dizzying as Draco tried to keep track of what was going on. A woman opened the door – the discussion was bloated - yet static sounded and Draco couldn’t make out a word. They were allowed inside, a wide smile and a call upstairs. Harry thought over how his forehead might hurt, might catch the squibs in a lie, so loud and clear it was as if Draco had thought it.Draco watched as the house, rickety and old and wooden to the point of rot and damp, was searched. Harry checked the little places, the odd places, places where he would hide secrets things – the Trainee was shadowing him, being a pain.He should never have passed the exam. Paid off, was what the gossip said. He only ever found anything useful out of luck, chance, not skill.As skilful and as lucky that the Elderwand’s allegiance was to Harry in his duel against Voldemort? As skilful as Snape being nearby when Harry cast the spell Snape made? The world was a series of inconveniences and coincidences. Harry scoffed as the Trainee asked another question, one he didn’t provide an answer to but a shake of the head and changing direction. Another flurry of images, jumps and cuts to and Draco tried to focus.The source of Dark Magic was no where to be found.Can’t find anything, Sir.Draco felt the way Harry said those words. Not happy, not keen to leave and yet with no reason to stay he was ushered to the door. Yet Head Auror found a trapdoor, voice booming and making both Trainee and Harry jump into action.A trapdoor which a man, moustached and sweating seemed reluctant to leave. Mr. to the Mrs. Squib.“Harry,” Auror Head said and the wands were out and the Squibs were asked to go to the kitchen, to sit, explain what was down there. Down there in the basement.Harry went first.Too curious.Too worried it might be something related to Voldemort. The chains on the door below fell away, unravelled like scattering snakes and Harry descended, Lumos cast.Would it ever end? Was he coming back? Was there yet another prophecy he didn’t know about himself? Draco couldn’t see anything, until Harry flicked on the light switch. A Muggle house through and through. Downstairs was not a basement. Not some dark, dreary and cold place. Nothing like the cupboard. It was open, bright and stuffed with everything one would need to survive, live well enough. Another kitchen, a dinner table nearby. Food sat on it and it was akin to Hogwarts, though the presentation was not as grand, there were many cakes and biscuits out in the open and Harry was grateful.And in the corner there sat a boy and Harry rushed over. His name was--Draco blinked as the boy’s mouth moved and nothing came out. Harry didn’t remember, didn’t want to remember, didn’t want Draco to know. They spoke more and Draco tried to push further, go closer and hope to hear what was being said. The boy seemed to recognise he was being rescued and smiled, let Harry scoop him up and wrap him in his Auror robes.Harry tugged and the boy was held back. Draco saw the gleam, azure lines around the leg - “Harry--” Draco sighed, closed his eyes – the link from this memory cut off for a moment. The boy would die. Harry undid the clamp-like chain around his ankle - it sizzled to nothing - before turning back to present his findings to the Head Auror.“Don’t worry,” Draco heard Harry say down at the boy in his arms. “It could’ve been worse.” The boy scowled, disgust and twisted fury all in one and Harry didn’t understand, not then, why.A hurricane, loud and whirling and disorienting yelled out: Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Awful thing to say. How could I say that? I didn’t mean it. I didn’t. It was better than a cupboard. He had food. That’s all I meant. He wasn’t--They left, got out the house. Mr. and Mrs. Squib refused to say anything. The Boy ended up going back with the Trainee.Draco was cast sideways and all around-- St. Mungos, where the Healer chatted, the Boy keeping quiet. Harry and the Trainee were asking questions.Healer said, “The Dark Magic has damaged his core--” he continued to talk, muted again by Harry’s memory and frantic thoughts at the time.What does he mean? Is that really bad?Did I do something wrong?Trainee scoffs, gives him the same look the boy did. Harry doesn’t know what Draco knows. Still doesn’t. Not until the memory shifts and Harry’s crying, Ginny’s nearly knocking down the door to ask what’s wrong. For him to come out and talk to her.I was supposed to save him. And I killed him. What kind of Auror am I?The words grew distorted and Draco backed away from the memories. But they grew louder and Draco felt a terrible weight push down on him. Crushing more and more with every word. I should have known better. I didn’t think. I got him killed. It’s all my fault--Too loud, too stifling and Draco pulled out of the pensive.Draco gasped, took a few deep breaths to steady himself at the sheer weight of guilt. Crushing down, always. He rubbed the water away and stole a glance. Harry leant against the wood, still, staring at the pensive and the memory swimming around in it as if it would jump out and attack him in the physical world too. The wood creaked, groaned and twisted around, forced, magic tense.“Harry.” His voice didn’t warble or falter but neither did it gain Harry’s attention neither did it stop the artefact overhead hissing, sparking alive at the touch. “Harry.” Harry was lost, eyes focused in a space but nothing else. Scraping sounded from all around, the pine wood shuddering under the strain. “Harry, come here.”“I--” And Harry was there but not. A ghost, a walking death, like those after the War who couldn’t handle what they’d seen or done. About to break if they ever stopped, ever slowed and thought over it. Window glass fragmented, though did not shatter, lines of damage growing.No, he wouldn’t allow this. He pulled Harry in, tight and he felt the tremor, and the shaking and tense hands which grabbed onto his back. Draco mumbled into his skin, kept him close regardless of the noise of Harry’s sobs, no matter how much Harry said he was a murderer.Draco’s lungs couldn’t keep up with this. Harry might not be listening. “This isn’t on you.”“Don’t! It is! It is!” He hit his hands against him, thumped a dull ache through his back. Harry settled fast when Draco refused to let go, refused to stop talking. “He died because of what I did,” Harry argued back.“I need you to listen,” Draco said and hoped the seriousness in his next request came over as a demand. Not a plead which Draco hoped would work. “Harry,” he heard Harry stop sniffing, “You're coming with me to Matthews. I know you didn’t show me everything.” Too much missing.“No, that’s--” He pulled away and Draco let him, if only to hold his neck, his jaw, to look at him because Harry needed to see for himself how sincere Draco was being. Puffy face and red eyes made Harry look even more miserable. How long had he carried this guilt alone?“I know now and I’m not leaving, you can hear me, can’t you?” Harry gave a half-scoff half-smirk and yes, he was getting through to him. Even if it was like dragging the pride of a Gryffindor out of him. “You don’t have to do this alone.” When Harry started to shake his head, pull away, Draco refused again. What a stubborn – They’d just started getting somewhere.“You want to get better, right? Right?” No response. Fine. “Right, Potter?”Debating whatever was in his head, Harry muttered, without much bite. “Obviously, Malfoy but it’s not that easy.”“All you have to do is follow me into a room.”He frowned. “But--” Harry kept trying to pull away, let the distance swallow him up alongside his grief.“Listen,” Draco was surprised how Harry did stop and actually listen. Or maybe he was shutting down and about to apparate away. In a resolute decision, Draco would drag Harry to Matthews. Absolutely. Only if he couldn’t charm or convince. “Just follow me into a room, don’t think about anything else. You can do that. You don’t need to speak, you just need to get to that room.”Harry played awkwardly with the buttons on Draco’s robes. Finally listening, at last. “And you’re going with me?”“Yes, of bloody course I am.”Unlike the anger and the tears, the sheer lack of reaction from those words put Draco on edge. Harry was always the one to bicker first, to argue and show his emotions. This numbed stare made Draco shift, relax his grip on him if only it brought Harry back from his messed up headspace.“You don’t hate me? For what--”“As if. I know you have this thing wanting to save everyone. Like saving me and – how you’ve been obsessed since Hogwarts. But-”“Have not.” The spark, the shine, the life returned to those bloodshot eyes for those words.“There. You’re back, finally.” Draco didn’t push his luck. They abandoned the conservatory, wanting distance from the horrid worm of a memory. Harry stepped over the threshold of the room and the glass fell, tiny shards falling to the floor with great clatter, the wood collapsed and if not for the Manor's magic itself the place would be flattened. Draco sent Lotty and Decimus away to give Harry a reprieve from any stares.It took some time for Harry to sit down, to calm down and relax.Harry lounged on the couch, calmer and face no longer blotchy from tears or snot. “I can’t wrap my head round it. How’d you get Ron to help you?” He rubbed at his face while his glasses were pushed high.“Going by his face, I don’t think he knew either.” Undoing the tie which, courtesy of Harry was tear-stained, Draco cast it aside. “He’s a loyal friend. Slightly jealous since it would seem mine aren’t even law-abiding on my account.”Harry twirled his wand in his hands, as if it wasn’t a weapon, as if it wasn’t a wand, as if it wasn’t capable of murder. He didn’t so much as twitch as Draco set his hand over the wood and gave him a look.“So, Theo and Blaise.” Draco didn’t expect the flinching at hearing their names, but he did. Grimaced at how Harry sat up to explain himself. “They went to France so, it’s taking some coordination between the different authorities. Theo disappeared, left Blaise behind. We think Theo's next move is to pretend he has nothing to do with this, but considering you've already shown me the--” Harry cleared his throat. “The memory of him trying to warn you - he can't take that route if he tries to go home.”Right.Well.Draco would rather not think about those two. He would always wonder if treating either of them differently would have resulted in no betrayal. What ifs were never helpful, only torture. He let Harry handle this. No more thinking, no more hoping. “Ginny knows. About us. What have you told her? Everything?” And what did everything mean in terms of Harry and Ginny, separated but still married. Did they still share absolutely everything? Harry better not have told her about anything--“Nothing personal it’s-- It was me. I may have mentioned you a few times. And she picked up on it.” Harry did not follow up, he shifted his attention elsewhere, starting pawing at his glasses. Never seen that habit flare before.“Well, you must fill me in now.”“Must I?” Harry’s face was reacquainted with a cushion. “I may have told Ginny, you know what? I can’t tell you. No, I can’t.” Was this Harry’s second breakdown of the day? Watching him mumble and turn red told another story. Draco had to know now.“Why ever not? I like compliments. Only good things happen when I get compliments.”They bickered, even after Lotty announced dinner later on, half of the menu apologises for disturbing Draco to announce it. During dinner, Harry continued to speak through the numerous plates of food and Draco might have gone crazy watching him put his elbows on the table. What sort of barbarian had he fallen for? This was his third helping and he was certain Harry hadn't been hexed to starve.“I don’t get why Lotty keeps saying my rooms aren’t up to standard. We aren’t in Hogwarts any more, not everything has to be green or freezing.” Harry shovelled in more potatoes and Draco replied, cool and distant.“She's trying to redecorate your house to my tastes. I adore pretty much everything with the colour green.”Oh. Draco froze. Right. He’d said it. Harry didn’t so much as pause.“And? She hates me for that?”“I’ll wait,” Draco muttered and looked down at the dessert he’d forwent again. He was getting sick of ice-cream, honestly. It wasn’t a food he could eat quick and ignore what just slipped out of his mouth.“For what?” Harry gave this adorable and most infuriating frown, confusion so deep it may as well have written itself on his face in red ink. Laughing, Draco decided he was glad Harry hadn’t a clue. Best not make a right tit of himself right now.The rest of the day passed idly, Harry hovering close by and Draco occasionally believed maybe, if it were possible, Harry was wanting Draco to spoil him. But he never asked, never requested any affection whatsoever. Too guilty, too self-conscious perhaps? Astoria was the type to hug into him first, to outright ask and have her needs at the forefront of his mind.Draco made a point to touch and murmur as much as a fragile Harry wished. Harry would still, go silent, like he’d done before, relax against him and Draco wondered how tired, how difficult it must have been to pull the memory out and have someone watch it.The day was finished before Harry’s mood returned completely to his typical bullheadedness.In the dark, Harry snuggled into him again before asking, “Did you mean it? What you said before?” Draco nearly pretended he was asleep to avoid the sheer audacity for Harry to pick the one time he couldn’t be apparating away. What an Auror move. Gulping at the idea it was wrong, terribly wrong and too fast to admit, Draco stayed quiet.What was he supposed to say? It’d popped out his mouth without any form of real thought and now, Harry had figured it out and what did he say to that? He’d never even confessed to Pansy and Astoria well, she practically knew how he was feeling before Draco could name it and now Harry was--“Me coming to see Matthews with you,” Harry elaborated.Merlin. Draco thumped his head against the pillow, wanting to smother himself. “I did, and I meant it.” Here lies the most oblivious man in history. “You never change do you.” Trying not to be too loud didn’t work out and Draco couldn’t help himself, the bubbling laughter spilling out.“What?” Harry actually sounded surprised. The oblivious-- Perhaps the chatter was an excuse for more attention.“For the love of-- go to sleep.” He rushed a kiss against his forehead, keen to forget the idea Harry hadn’t even noticed him again. The shit. He was going to pay for that. Maybe he’ll burn his food in spite.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Draco explained the situation. Matthews seemed reluctant but Draco did what he always did. He pushed and pushed and finally got his way. It might mean he would pay more this time round but when did he care about the price of what he wanted?“I’m the patient, yes? I’d like for you to get some scope on what I’ve been talking about. Maybe find a referral for this one. You can do that can't you?”And then Draco and Harry were shoved into a room to be asked questions about themselves, emotions and… Hogwarts? He hadn’t agreed to that. Hadn’t agreed to have them put under such scrutiny.“You two have quite a lot of history.”Matthews looked between them, as they recounted the amount of time they seemed to spend tormenting one another. Rejecting him right off an introduction – the humiliation! Draco lay back, settled on this uncomfortable seat for the first time.“Blame him, always liked to be centre of attention.”“I do not.” Harry turned to Matthews. “I like being the exact opposite of the centre of attention.”“Yes, I’m sure being on the Quidditch team in First Year – when First Years weren’t allowed to be and calming snakes and crazy hippogriffs was also a way to keep your head down. Sure thing.”“You bribed the team with brooms. And the snake you conjured was going to attack someone else – and the hippogriff was nice, you just insulted it.”He clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “Not this again. That bloody beast was mad. Mad, Potter.”“Buckbeak wasn’t. Well, not at me anyhow.”What was Harry even saying now? The beast had a name? Urgh. He needed a potion. He looked to Matthews for support. Surely the trained Healer could tell even being near a wild hippogriff was certified insane.“Whenever I think about one of those ridiculous beasts, all I see is him jumping up on its back. What idiot decides to go off and ride some feral monster into the sky?”“I didn’t leap onto Buckbeak. It decided--” Draco bristled. Of course, humiliated in front of his class and then here comes Potter, waltzing up and acting like he deserved to tame the wild beast.“Right. I see.” Matthews glanced between the silence that sat between them. He cleared his throat. “Personally, I find it quite odd. How you both bicker about Hogwarts and yet don’t talk about the later years. I am aware Draco had more than some hardships at that point.”“The war you mean.” The torture, the murder, the depravity of it all. The weird arsed mercy that showed itself on a rare occasion and died just as swift? Forgiveness followed even less and Draco looked to see Harry scowl fleetingly.“It’s over,” Harry said, face now blank.“Nothing to discuss? Nothing went on you both think--”“It’s done.”No, he didn’t need to talk about the moment Harry was dead and Voldemort had won and his family were as good as dead too. How Harry looked horrified at nearly killing him beforehand. How desperate they’ve both been to keep their loved ones safe. Why were they here bickering? Why bother with a past long past instead of the memory which stalked Potter’s mind?“I don't normally see couples, and when I do they don't tend to have such turbulent history. You have quite literally been at the wand of the other countless times. And Draco I believe you've almost died. Twice. I can't say from what you've told me - how the animosity could go so easily...”“He didn't hand me over to Voldemort when he could've.”Draco snorted. To think the moment most used to say he 'was different' was a time he'd been vague and quiet. “He saved me from the Fiendfyre.”“Practically gave me his wand too.”Matthews rubbed his forehead. “I see, and you think that's enough?”Draco didn't understand the question. Harry looked at him, same expression on his face. Harry had done more the last year for Draco than, well, than he believed Pansy or Goyle and Crabbe had. Blaise had fled. Defeating Voldemort? Good and all but getting him out of a life sentence? Draco still didn't really get it. But whatever Harry's little moral compass said, he wouldn't argue. “Yeah? I mean, if we're talking about everything if it hadn't been for Draco and me hating each other in First-Year, I'd probably still be dead.”What was that drivel? “You better explain that one, Potter.” That was reaching. Hard. Even Matthews had paused in his note-taking.“In First Year you wanted a duel in the middle of the night so I snuck out. Hermione and Neville ended up coming... But we found Fluffy while trying to hide. He was this massive three-headed dog that guarded a trapdoor. Which is what lead me to finding the Philosopher Stone and fighting Voldemort for the first time. If I hadn't gone to the duel I wouldn't have found Fluffy and then started thinking Snape got bit from it after trying to steal whatever it was guarding. And I managed to keep the Stone from Voldemort back then. And I used that in the War to live while the Horocrux of Voldemort in me was destroyed.”Draco hadn't thought about Voldemort till Fourth Year. First Year he was eating sweets and stealing gifts from other students. He was child. A child. And Harry had dealt with Voldemort? The bloody Philosopher's Stone? And the Elderwand? And the bloody Invisibility Cloak? What the-- Harry Potter was literally a master of death? What the fuck? The Master of Death? He'd said that to people to mock the guy and his hubris. Circe, help him.Potter actually--“I don't believe a word you're saying.” Draco lied and Harry probably knew it. “Listen Matthews you can judge if this-” He motioned between him and Harry on the couch. “-is a good idea or not on your own time but Potter here's just avoiding the topic at hand. He's dealt with a case a few years back and now needs urgent help getting through it. Do ignore any suggestion he is fine.” He saw Harry's leg start to twitch, too still for too long. “I can leave if you'd prefer. You're in the room now.”Potter took interest in the blank carpet.“Might be best. Yeah.”Draco left, despite Matthews trying to wrangle Harry's appointment to a later date. As if Draco could bet on Harry coming again if he'd been told they should still hate each other and their childish aggression. Bloody well Master of Death. That was both too cool and too annoying to acknowledge. He'd been told about the Three Brothers, loved it as a child story. Didn't think any of it could be real not even when he’d thrown that cloak over him in the train carriage. Who would?Oh that was - that was too cool. And it was most certainly not cool to gush over it, over anything. No, no. Harry must never know. But it was difficult to reason why he should hide his enthusiasm but too many questions needed answered, demanded answers.When Harry returned, Draco kept an eye on the time. Checking. Not too soon. Not too soon. Be cool. Calm. Say it in passing. Like it's not a big deal. Like it's not the only thing Draco's been thinking about for hours. He wandered into one of the sitting rooms - once favoured by Astoria for the natural light spilling in from the windows that seemed to take up most of the walls. It always seemed to smell like peaches and Draco could never figure out why. “Did you really have the Philosopher's Stone?” Harry was trying to look interested in a book, flicking through it and pulling faces as he tried to decode the Old English. Something about law again. Harry hummed. Not enough. Not enough information. Keep cool. Pretend... “You had the greatest achievement of the Wizarding World? When you were eleven? The most famous item alchemy ever created?” He tried hard to twist his awe into disregard, into something low and unworthy of his time. Like he didn’t believe Harry for one moment than want to bleed the information he held dry. He could barely stop himself fidgeting, asking all his questions outright without pause. “You like alchemy?”“Alchemy is an extension of brewing and transformigation. It changed everything.” Harry looked up, good. Finally. “You said you used it. How? How did you use it? If you did.” In the stories, the Philosopher Stone was the reddest red, gleaming and pure. Some claimed it wrong. Some tried to actually, it's more of a sanguine. And Draco had to wonder how did it work? Did it respond to anyone? Was there an incantation--Harry squinted through his glasses at him. “So, you’re kinda... Into this.” A punch in the gut, found out already? No. Harry was fishing for clues on why he was asking.“I-- No.” His spine ached to move but he froze.“No?”“You're literally the only person ever to have all three of them other than Death itself. I have to ask you.”“It’s not that big a deal?” Harry tried to return to the book but Draco kept watching him. How was he supposed to ask for the memories of them? Or the story on how he managed to gain all three? Or if he’d ever eluded Death with the cloak. If feeling the Elderwand under his command was somehow different to his own. Harry set the book aside. Attention directed at Draco.“You can show me memories of them too.” He added, “If it's not that big a deal. Because I simply don’t believe you.”“Uhuh.”He left the room and Draco couldn’t tell if Harry was off to do as asked or if he hadn’t believed him. Did he manage it? Was he supposed to stay here while Harry bottled them up? Should he follow? He should probably follow. He trailed behind, Harry going to the kitchen. One glass of water later and Harry was yanking a bright tadpole from his head with his wand and dropped it inside.“Are you doing them now?” Harry kept going. They swirled inside. Two, Three… Four? Five? What? No. They might clash and merge, taint and twist together, ruining the memory itself. Draco kept an eye on them. If he were poetic he’d call them something wondrous and bright, something illuminating and eye-catching. But he just wanted them separate.Harry handed the glass off with no care, sloshing over the rim and over Draco’s hand. What was he staring at? Draco looked down, memories still swimming independently. “Not gonna watch them?”If Harry could let go, let him walk away with this glass of information, that would be best. “I will later, it's not that important.”Harry pulled it back, more water spilling, raised his above his head about to-- “So, I could break--” No! Draco reached out to grab it, his height making it easy to have a hand on it despite Harry’s attempts. Harry grinned and Draco deflated. Oh no. No, he hadn’t meant to-- Caught. Completely. This was it, this was how he died. Into a pool of ever rising embarrassment.“Still going to pretend you're not interested?”“Master of Death is the coolest thing the Wizarding World has and I’ve always assumed it was just a story to teach children a lesson.” But no, no Harry proved the items real. Did Harry manage to survive from an entire Ministry hunting him because of the Cloak? Because not even Death itself could ever find him?That was just--“I thought you thought crups were the coolest?”He scoffed. “Cutest, Harry. Keep up.”“Why don't you just admit it? I'll show you the cloak.”Potentially, the Cloak Death gave? He managed a very slight nod, ego worth the hit if it meant he could see it again.“I'll go get it. It'll help hide that blush of yours.”A crackle and breeze and Draco was left with a glass half full and memories he might not be able to see if they attached to each other. From the middle of a supporting column, Lotty appeared. “Lotty will hex Harry Potter if Master wishes. Lotty can make it look like an accident.”“Not necessary Lotty, but I'll take it under advisement.” He ran a hand through his hair, scalp far too warm and now too self-conscious over the heat on his face.“Lotty will find a salve for your allergic reaction.”Eh? The closest mirror showed Lotty’s mistake. His face prickled, including several spiderwebs of red around his neck.“Well, fuck.” He returned to the pensive, letting them have room to wriggle around. Wait till Harry left before dousing his head under.He returned at the sound and ebb of magic returning.“Here.” No hesitation, Harry threw the cloak over Draco and let go. Leaving him to curl the material under his hands. Smooth. Unreal. He sidestepped, tugged the cloak around his person and made sure not to have his ankles giving his position away. Harry tried to keep an eye on him, but his gaze was too high, even as Draco lowered to sit on the floor.“You can’t see me.”He span around, seemed to pinpoint where he was with such ease… Was this real? Was Harry playing?“You okay in there?” Harry prodded at his head, though from his view it must have been a solid nothingness that refused to budge from the space.“You really can’t see me?”He was sitting in the middle of the room, knee and chin together curled into himself. The world looked no less different minus the sheer texture of the cloak itself overlaying onto his sight. It didn’t warble or shift like Draco thought it might. Didn’t distort sound or hide his own voice like he thought it might.If someone tried to cast a curse, would it miss – not because they could no longer see him but because Death couldn’t? Were they truly gifts instead of inventions of geniuses long forgotten?“You had the chance to steal it once.”“As if I could believe you had an actual Cloak of Invisibility. I thought maybe you'd dipped it in potion that it would run out once it dried.” Why would anyone believe it real? It was a story about being sneaky, ambitious but not overreaching. His mother taught him that. To think the Cloak was real? He sat here, desperate to understand. Invisibility was no grand feat. A simple potion, really. A spell which allowed broomsticks their seats while keeping their usual shape to the eye. But this? “This does explain how you knew what I was up to.”“I did get up to a lot of nonsense in Hogwarts.”“And still managed to win the House Cup.”“You can forgive me for almost killing you but not winning the House Cup?” The head tilt was cute and Draco looked away even though Harry couldn’t see.“I tried to kill you too, Killing Curse and all.”“Do you think it would've cast?”Casting torture and casting death were quite different. The difference between a dog and wolf, Draco had heard Muggleborns say once or twice and he understood, somewhat despite not knowing what a wolf or a dog were. Torture was a powerful rush of hate, of seething rage and disgust. A little shard of his soul had died when he’d tortured on command. Draco had wanted to kill, desperately believing it easy, simple. Not worth thought. And when it came to it, he couldn’t. Didn’t dare kill Harry because as much as they loathed and he resented, it didn’t mean he wanted him dead. He just wanted to be seen as better. Whatever was necessary for death to be cast Draco did not have.“I don't know.”Harry pinched it and tugged the cloak off him, shifting Draco’s hair too. He could feel it messy and wrong already. And then they sat doing what they always had. Staring, never wanting to break it first – that would be a loss. “I don’t want to talk about back then.”“You’re not mad from this morning? That got a bit rough.” Again he tried to fix the already perfectly sitting glasses.“I feel--” He curled up a little tighter. What could he say? “--a little stupid you were facing off against Voldemort and I was running around and dressing like a Dementor.” Despite his age, despite that being a thing kids would do it was – it was childish. Too, almost, childish in comparison to what Potter dealt with that year. He couldn’t compete at all, could he?“Wouldn’t mind kissing you now though.”Draco could only hope the horrible pink in his face was gone completely, that he looked unbothered, cool and detached for his usual self. “Well. You haven’t. Lately, at least.” He distinctly refused to notice; notice how close Harry had got. Harry kissed him. A lot more than Draco expected. Quick against his mouth and forehead. Kisses and affection Draco imagined he could give to Astoria but wouldn’t have received back. Too soft, making him feel just as squishy. He cleared his throat.“We should test and make sure I’m still the better Seeker.”“You’re definitely remembering that wrong.”The plan didn’t need words. It just happened. They both went ahead in gathering all they needed.Harry and Draco got their brooms, respectively Draco scoffed at the newest model and rolled his eyes at the bravado. When he was a boy, he never had much interest in any other position than Seeker, and so his only equipment bought revolved around that.No wonder Scorpius did so well. They owned many Snitches, those training Snitches and those smaller Snitches and those silver Snitches compared to the official gold fluttering wings. Draco brought out the official. No way was he handing over Harry an excuse when he lost.Harry’s eyebrows tried to escape his face as Draco apparated them away. “Wow. Albus wasn’t kidding when he said you have your own stadium. How much did this even cost? And why the stands? You get that many spectators? This might be bigger than the place at the World Cup.”“No idea, been in the family for generations. I tried to have Hermione use it for official matches, but no one would want to buy a ticket to go on Malfoy property.”He unhatched the Snitch, unravelling wings in his hand. It shot up into the air. “That should be it.” They waited a moment, till both admitted they couldn’t see it any more. No movement in the air at all. The sky thankfully, clear and blue today instead of overcast and the breeze barely moved Harry’s hair.How odd it was to fly on a broom instead of on wing. How easy it was to turn and twist in the air as an owl versus this. This inflexible piece of wood. It took some time to – not remember – but to become comfortable again, that this was the first way he learned to fly, to be in the air.Harry spied the Snitch first – Draco’s broom fell downwards -- Harry took off and hurtled towards it, hand outstretched and almost--“That’s so cheating.”Harry outraged, holding Draco’s talon around the Snitch itself. Lies. Draco caught it first. He hooted in defiance despite hanging upside down. He wasn’t letting go, never. “Human form only.” Human form only? Another hoot and Harry set him down. Throwing the Snitch back into play. Harry’s broom yielded in the air, shaky at first with the sudden weight added. It fell backwards, till Harry shifted. He looked unimpressed as Draco leaned hard into his shoulder, looking down at his own broom abandoned on the field. Draco laughed. “Only if we catch it in our hands, so don’t be coughing it up and acting like you meant it.” First game Potter ever played he caught to Snitch in his mouth. How ridiculous. The fact Wood tried to play it off as some sort of meaningful celebration was worse.Harry turned an curious colour, eyes dark. “Off, before we fall and break our necks.”Draco turned to fly down and retrieved his broom.They did as they always did. Too much egging on and riling, too much pride and ego so neither wanted to stop if a draw or loss was the last they’d played. Draco’s lungs hurt, everything hurt but still he claimed himself fine for another round. Even when both of them were red, out of breath and struggling to carry on a conversation, they kept going.Another match and another and another till Harry said, “I think I might be--” and the Manor buzzing concern filled his head., loud and consuming Draco lowered himself back to the ground, dizziness becoming too much.“What did you say?”“This was fun.”Harry landed, looking to his scuffed shoes, upset oddly at yet another win. What was he going to say he hadn’t put up a good enough competition?“When’s your next appointment?” He was glad to be on the ground for his limbs were weak and the broom nearly too heavy to keep in one hand.Harry kept looking down. “It didn’t really work out.” He didn’t meet his eye.“Don’t ruin this by saying you tried once and now you’re stopping.” Harry wouldn’t do that, right? No, he couldn’t actually mean-- “Forget it.” Draco didn’t want to hear it. Any more excuses.“Right.” Draco watched Harry leave and he should throw the Snitch at his head. Idiot.Harry ruined everything.Harry didn’t stay long, he left claiming to need to return the broom before Albus noticed but they both knew that was a lie to avoid talking about this like adults.Draco FireCalled Luna. He paced in front of the fireplace as it flickered green hue across the floor.“Tonight. A drink,” he said as soon as her face appeared.“Hello to you too, Draco.”“Tonight.” He stopped. Glared at her despite feeling no anger towards her, ever. “A drink at the Leaky?”“I’ll come along if I can bring some others. It’s no fun if it’s just two.”“No one who’ll pick a fight.”She laughed before the call ended.Luna arrived first, Seamus arrived after Draco drank his fourth FireWhiskey at that point, his glares lessened to mumbling complaints. And he drank more and more. Seamus egging him and Luna for another and another all while Neville sipped at his butterbeer.“Marry me, Luna.” He lulled his head against hers and was forever grateful to the Loopy Lady that she didn’t care much about anything logical. She refused to broach the subject, refused to ask Neville why or how Draco was the one in need of tending.“I’m already married.”“We drinking with Malfoy now?” Seamus looked between them all but didn’t refuse another pint of FireWhiskey.Seamus complained about Dean – and Luna complained about some form of elusive Pixie – and Draco hadn’t a clue what that was either. The goal for tonight? Forget his name, wake with the worse hangover in the history of Britain and ignore Harry bloody Potter forevermore.He choked on the butterbeer he stole from Neville. His night got worse when he spied the curly hair by the bar.“Wilks, great, someone just curse me dead and get it over with. Why not have Voldemort just reappear and mutilate me again? Why not? Everyone get their kicks in now.”“So, melodramatics still your thing?” Seamus’ words were starting to slur, and he grinned as Luna took a shot of something. He tried to follow her lead and downed his pint in one go.No. Draco hated how his belly bubbled. Instead of easing the anger it only made it worse. Neville tapped away on his mobile phone and Draco hissed, stabbing a bony elbow into his side. “You better not be telling him anything with that fangled Muggle-phone.”“I’m not.” Neville had to show his screen to prove it. Draco didn’t look, the screen and its words were moving too much to focus on.“Why should I believe you, my own friend’s tried to murder me after stealing everything else. You’re all liars. What’s even the point in trying--” Draco rambled into the table, feeling sick and unbalanced. Why was life like this? One shitty event always followed another and another. He wasn’t even sure he was speaking English at times, rambling about Theo and his château and his shitty friendship.Bah, Potter. Arse.“Uuh… Anyone have a clue what he’s going on about?” Seamus looked between Luna and Neville.“Another FireWhiskey? There you go.” Luna patted his head and Draco grumbled his thanks.Pointing an accusatory finger Draco snarled, “You-you, Neville, you tell him. You tell him he can forget it, I don’t care. What. What’re you typing?”“You’re off your trolly.” He shook his head like an actual teacher would, disappointment coming off in waves. “Smashed. Legless. Wait here, sober up a bit. I’m going to call Harry.” Harry wasn’t his caretaker, not his keeper. Why bother? Why even think to call Potter when he couldn’t even go talk to someone on his behalf? As if he’d even come find him.Harry had said enough. And Draco threw back another drink at the burn in his eyes. It was far too warm in here.“Stay put, I’ll be right back.”Draco huffed his way from the table, despite Luna offering to go for the next round. He wouldn’t do as anyone said. Never, ever again. A few others bumped into him and he stumbled literally into the bar. It didn’t hurt. He could still walk and so his night wasn’t finished.He could still remember it. Harry walking away. Damn it. He could handle an argument from Harry but this? Walking off, ignoring him? “More FireWhiskey,” he managed to say without slurring. But if only the bartender stopped moving so much.“I thought I saw you.”Oh, just fuck off.Wilks.“I really wish you hadn’t.” Closing his eyes he wished the man away, wished the off-smelling cologne that was trying to go for some sexy dragonleather or burnt magic-esque oak. Instead it smelt wrong like something diary had gone off, too musky to tell what.“Bad day for the Deatheater?” Smarmy brat.Hmm.Fine.“How would you like to be used and paid for it?”It was truly amazing to see his face light up at the prospect. He’d grinned back because really? Really? Had he no standards whatsoever? No moral repulsion? Jasmine had been wonderful at having him throw money at her for company – not sex, simply having another person in that Manor was enough – and now he wished her back. Because at least she was adamant she wasn’t interested no matter the gold given. Wilkes just loved the idea of being ‘the other guy’. Weirdo.“I’m all ears.”“Good.” It took a few tries to find the pocket where his Galleons sat idle. As he grabbed a handful he swayed, held onto the bar to keep from falling. Tried his best to put them in the breast pocket of Wilkes’ robes. Focus, it’s just there. The pocket kept moving. Pesky thing.“Here.”“So, what’d you want?”“If you could just--” Draco frowned as Wilks came too close, too too too close. No. No. No. Not that. “Leave me alone.” And for once, Draco let out that horrid tar of hate that liked to stick in his throat, that he could never say because it never got him anywhere only more people hating him. So he sneered, “Could you just stop breathing--”His world shook, blur of sound and colour and then he was trying to pick himself up from the floor. Only now, someone was pulling him up from behind. Seamus, maybe someone who just looked like Seamus, punched Wilkes in the face.Then he wasn’t sure what Luna said as she steadied him and soothed over his cheek. Or who was yelling. Seamus and Wilks scuffled on the floor because despite the towering height, Seamus refused to be moved. The entire Leaky yelled, alive and furious. The chairs had ran to hide and the tables began to spin violently that the butterbeers stained the walls and the faces of their patrons.Luna was shoved against him and she tutted, “Draco, follow me.”No one hurt his precious friend. She was the only one he had in that category. So he punched the little man with too much hair on his face and someone else hexed him. A searing pain in his shoulder and Luna yanked him back and spelled the man’s mouth shut. And then. And then. More noise. More sickening, queasy movement that jostled him more.His eyes forgot to focus. The air filled with shouting and spell casting. What was going on?Luna? Ah, Luna. Lovely Loopy Luna. He grinned at her but she shook her head. She pulled at him, out the door and he stumbled into the chilling night air. Oh. This wasn’t a good idea Loopy Lovely Luna. He was going to give his drink to the stone. He scrambled to use the wall as a support.Urgh. It was so dark. Where was everything? Everyone?Close behind him Seamus yelled, “You bastards!” Before Neville grabbed hold of him and pushed him out too. Luna reappeared and Draco couldn’t tell when she’d left.“Oi. Malfoy lemme know when you’re out again. This is the most fun I’ve had in aaages.” Seamus’ laughter was all he could hear in the streets, bounding off the cobblestone.“Luna,” Draco cried melodramatically, and she commiserated him with another pat on the head. She sipped at her drink, perhaps taken as a trophy, whatever it was, through a straw that changed colours. Not a hair out of place. They sunk and sat on the bare ground, too warm from the drink and too lost to think to move out of the way.Luna he stuck to, pleased to call her friend. Oh yeah, he was supposed to stay still. Oops. Draco giggled with Luna some more, she offered him a sip.“Harry says he’s coming to get you.”“That’s what he thinks,” he told Luna as if she only the one who could hear him.And the mobile was shoved in his face: Harry, the screen said with little icons of red and green. Urgh, Muggle technology. Draco pushed it away, hid behind Luna’s shoulder at the sight. “No. No. Tell him Luna. You tell him.”“We were in a bar fight,” she said into the phone.“We got ‘em, Harry! No worries, yeah?” Seamus yelled in great cheer from behind. He seemed to be fascinated by a sign the Leaky had placed up.“A bar fight?” Harry sounded different on the phone. Draco muttered to Luna what to say.“Wilks started it,” she informed him. “By breathing.”“He punched Malfoy first. I saw it!” Seamus stamped, trying once and then twice to reach up and take the sign. It gave him a disapproving look. “I got ‘im back. Can’t be layin’ out people in the Leaky like that.”Luna giggled as Neville corralled Seamus to sit. Draco hated this beckoning back to reality. Too many emotions and too much booze all swirling around Draco couldn’t even tell any more what he was feeling. Angry? Disappointed? Hurt?How could Harry just walk away?He sat in silence, eyes closed letting Luna’s presence calm him. Don’t make him see his face right now. He couldn’t cope. He didn’t know how to fix anything. How can you fix someone who didn’t think they needed or deserved it?The familiar crackle in the air and Luna squeezed his arm. Shh’ed him again. And now, Draco regretted what he’d drank. Who knows what Neville said to bring him here?Their eyes met and Harry came over and Draco couldn’t handle more spouting lies-- Neville stormed over. With noticeably more energy than Draco had ever seen of him.“Is--”“A word.” Neville didn’t give Harry a choice, he grabbed Harry by the front of his collar and pulled him away.“He’s doing his teacher voice.” Luna giggled, the only noise that told Draco she wasn’t sober right now either. “On Harry.” It bubbled up, till she was laughing loud enough for it to infect Draco with a smile too.Luna kept giggling and he kept pretending Harry wasn’t here. Easier said than done as Harry didn’t look angry, didn’t have the skulking scuff of his shoes for now. No, no. He kept looking at Luna’s bizarre earrings that looked like eyes. He touched them, and Luna swatted him away.He wasn’t interested. He wasn’t. It didn’t matter what Harry said or did. “What are they talking about?”“You?” Seamus said as he finally sat with them. Luna had to shoulder him too. The three of them flinched.“Harry!” Neville yelled, like a teacher who’d found his favourite student cheating on a test. And then silence. Silence for so long Draco closed his eyes and pretended Harry had left again.The two returned and Harry tried to speak but Draco scrambled to his feet. No way would he look up to Potter.Meanwhile Neville, poor, poor Neville held up his hands and waved them like a mad man as Draco used him as a leaning cane.“You two, go sort yourselves out.”“I’m so lost. Why’s ‘arry here?” Seamus hung onto Luna and she shushed him quiet.“I’ll get you to the Floo.” Draco swooned at her words, he’d turned to thank Luna but saw her hoisting Seamus up. “Bye Draco, Neville-- See you, Harry.”Oh.“Come on.” Harry put his hand out and Draco glared at it. Did he forget what he said? He walked away first. Draco held on tighter to Neville’s shoulder else he might slap him away.His life would be so much easier if—he wouldn’t hurt this much if- “I wish I’d never met you.” The words washed over them in the bitter air. All except Harry who barely blinked. Draco turned away, his stomach grumbling painfully and shoved Neville away. He promptly vomited. He hoped he got Potter’s shoes. Neville pulled him back, spell cast before Draco had even as sense at what it was.“Liar, such a shitty liar,” he spluttered it out, choking on the words themselves. “Go on, go. Leave.” Harry scuffed his feet. See? He was going to apparate away, go again because things were too difficult. Boo-fucking-hoo Potter. The world became less shaky, his stomach less queasy.“I mean it Harry,” Neville called as he left, following behind a stumbling Seamus and a giggling Luna.“I know.”Draco refused to acknowledge how drunk he’d been, how bent over and crumpled his stature. How pitiful was this? To be caught like this? He stood up, fixed his collar and robes. He didn’t know whether to curse or thank Neville for the new clarity. What a waste of FireWhiskey.“Draco, can we talk. Please.”He wanted nothing more than to kill the warmth, the hope that sprung for those words. Let him be. Let them go their separate ways and be done with it.He really hated them, those green eyes.Draco offered him an arm. They’d discuss this again. Maybe Neville’s words had sunk in. Harry’s hand was still so warm even on this British night. Draco blinked down at it. He should cast it away, spurn him, made a fool out of him.“Things were good. Really good. Before.”He apparated them back to the Manor. It welcomed them happily, making Draco’s nose tingle from the heat. “Before you decided to ignore everyone trying to help you?” Before he decided to backtrack on what he promised.“I don’t deserve-”And Draco said it. The mantra his parents used about his wife and about all the other families because no one could ever measure up. “You don’t deserve me.”It was the smile – and it was an odd thing for a smile on someone else’s face to hurt him so deeply – a sad, pitiful smile. How bloody well enraging. “You’re seeing Muggles to learn how to cook.”His stomach rolled and Draco pulled away. Let some physical distance ease the thought away. “Longbottom.” Traitor. Why tell him that? “You’re changing the subject again.”“No, I-- You don’t--”“I’m not a distraction for your misery,” Draco said and whatever Harry had prepared to say, whatever words he believed would return Draco to his side faltered a great death.He looked at his shoes like a child in trouble. “Sorry.”Was that it?Draco didn’t want to hear this, he didn’t want to hear this at all. Why couldn’t Harry understand? Why did he not realise? Draco had been through this before. He’d watched someone slowly decay despite it being too soon.“I don’t want your apologises, Harry.”“I know.”“You’re not going to go are you?” This was just another attempt to convince him. Another agreement undone. It took him by surprise at how his words were level. Cool and composed, Father would be proud. He was not. He hated this. This was it, then as far as they could go.“Malfoy Manor, remove Harry Potter from your protection.” The magic shuddered at the loss.Harry nodded at the command as if the Manor would not heed Draco’s words alone. He rubbed at his neck, held it there until Draco thought he might throttle himself.“I have been better. My magic's been fine.” Draco refused to say anything to that. Harry awkwardly made his way to the Floo. Apparation from inside no longer possible.His name fell out from between his lips before he could stop himself. “Harry.” He didn’t want Harry to leave. He most certainly didn’t want Harry to be in pain or tormented. Couldn’t he see that? Couldn’t the git see how much everyone, each and every friend he had shouldered their own needs and his to keep him afloat?Harry scuffed his trainers against the floor. Draco had drowned in emotion – more than once – and he wouldn’t allow himself to be dragged under by Harry’s constant stream of self-loathing over his guilt. Of using Draco to make him feel better. He wasn’t a potion, he wasn’t a gauze for whatever nightmares liked to sneak in at night.“You said you hated ultimatums and yet turned around and gave me one. You're acting as if you can ignore this. You can't. I won't. I won't do what the rest have done and let you get away with this.”“What?” The Floo powder drained from his hand.“Don't come back until you've done what you said you would.”“I did.” And Harry left. What a fucking mess. Potter wasn't dumb or oblivious enough to think Draco only meant one bloody session. He sent a note to Ginny. 'Looks like you were right.'
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Everyday Hermione sent a letter and Draco had taken it to Matthews one week. He signed off on saying he’d go through what happened before but not before Draco was comfortable. It reminded Draco of having his Mother lie about his health when he was a child wishing to avoid another party. Hermione’s letters stopped.He would not sit in this house and wallow. Not again, never again. Draco would not allow these Manor walls to eat up his days. For once, he arrived early at the rendezvous where he met Neville: A few miles away from the looming Malfoy Manor and its kept fields. The pathway was mud and dust depending on the weather and lacked the Muggle’s fakestone upon it.It bugged him.There was only one way Potter knew about his lessons. He rotated his wrist along with his wand, if only to calm the adrenaline making them shake. Neville would be dealt with. The familiar crackle of air and Neville appeared as he normally did. Horrid clothing and all. And Draco greeted him with a Stinging Hex to the face. He fell in slow-motion, stunned to the now muddy path. A distant cry of peacocks covering up the sizzle of skin.“Why? Why did you tell him? What could possibly make--?” So clear now. He didn’t even warrant a secret kept by Neville? To think Draco thought him above their schooldays. The burning, rumbling in his head hurt and Draco ignored it. Destined to be alone, the Prophet printed it to the world. Fools the lot of them. Draco didn’t need them. Any of them. “Blaise and Theo tried to take everything from me and you – you bloody Gryffindor can’t even keep a secret I tell you?”And just like that Neville sat up, as if the ground was made of rubber. Like his face wasn’t swollen and pink. He held up his hands and despite half his face growing larger, Draco believed wasn’t bothered about it. But that couldn’t be it. A trick. This was Neville wasting time.He should stun him, leave and never speak with him again.“Woah, woah. Look. Harry said it was unfair you were asking him to change.” Neville huffed out a noise that certainly sounded like a scoff. “I told him you were trying. That you weren’t the same brat from school.”Oh. It was said in defence of him, was it? Did that make it better he spilled his secrets? Should Draco thank him? Neville rubbed his hexed jaw, tender fingers prodding.“Okay, so you are still a bit like the brat from school. I don't know what's going on with you. This's a bit of an overreaction.”Draco was furious and hurt and irate. But even with those muddling his perception: Neville, like usual, held no hint of malice. He wasn’t cackling away like Theo would, or feeding him excuses like Pansy, or minimizing and dismissing like Blaise had done all those times before.It stunned him. Clear as day: Luna and Neville probably argued. Draco bet they never cast curses and hexes at each other. The Golden Trio too. He-- He pocketed his wand before Neville spied his trembling hands.He stopped going down that line of thinking sharpish.“I didn’t mean to say anything but it shut Harry up.”“Good to know you tell my secrets when it’s convenient for you.”“I get it. Bit shitty of me.” Draco scowled. “More than a bit.” A silence stretch on and Neville sighed at the end of it. “I thought you were taking advantage. Obviously you weren’t but- I - I’m sorry. Okay? I messed up.”...Draco snorted. What was he up to?“Help me up?” Neville held out his hand all the same. A stare without a glare. Neville really was-- He really wasn’t planning anything. Draco expected a hex back.“You always were a freak, Longbottom.” He grabbed on and yanked him up to his feet.“So, see you next Monday?” Draco looked away from the forced-closed eye, the swelling had taken away most of Neville’s familiar features.Should Draco bother to admit he had no need any more to go visit the Muggles? Learning their ways of food preparation and cooking served him no more. Harry wouldn’t have any reason to eat anything he prepared. Should he admit his new-founded comfort around Muggles was purely for Potter’s benefit? No. His ego couldn’t take this. No. No. No. Potter did not dictate what he did or did not do in his life. The arse was out of his life, he'd made that quite clear by leaving without a word.“Monday,” Draco said, waiting for Neville to turn around and claim it all as a joke to humiliate him.Neville took his own wand out and Draco froze, tense. Was this what it had devolved into? A duel in the middle of nowhere? And with mad hand-waving of his wand he healed his face without a flinch even as there was definitive... slurp. Oh. Right. Neville was an Auror as well back in his youth. Probably had the pain tolerance of a dragon.Probably knew a lot of spells Harry knew too. Hmm.Neville saw his shifting. “What?”“...Do you know how to cast a Patronus?”Draco remained quiet. He knew what would be said. Harry had said it before and everyone before him. No, teaching Draco was a waste of time. No, it was obvious Draco would never cast – conjure – a full Patronus. Because he was evil. Why would Draco, the Death Eater need a spell to deal with Dementors? What was he planning? Why was he asking? What angle did he hope to gain?“Yeah? I could teach you that.” Neville considered it. “Yeah, sure.” He shrugged like it was nothing, nothing to teach an Ex-Death-Eater to cast a Patronus. “But--” His hand clapped hard against his back. “--Don’t raise your wand to me again, alright. Use your words next time. Shouting spells at each is a little childish at our age.”Neville had beheaded a snake with a sword at one point in his life. Draco found clearing his throat difficult. So, he nodded. Draco exhaled slow.“Guess Harry wound me up a bit more than I thought. Won’t happen again.”That wouldn’t do.“And how much value should I place on your word when you lose your patience?”“Guess I didn't think you valued it that much.” Neville laughed. Laughed. The wanker. “Pretty wrong there. Trust me, won't happen again.”They left to the strange school after Draco had turned back into Muggle-esque clothing. The lack of robes always made him double check himself in the nearest puddle, glass or mirror. What weird clothing.“Come on, come on, we’re going to be late.”“Hmm. You really do have that Teacher Voice.”“Shut up.”How odd Longbottom hated a reminder to his teaching more than a hex to the face.Every week from then on flowed with routine.Weekends Scorpius returned from more trials and training, chatting and keen to brag. Mondays meant meeting Neville and lamenting over cooking followed by some attempts at casting a Patronus. Attempts that made it clear Draco was less Bad and more struggling Good, white smoke dyed black in the air before the breeze stole it from his wand.Every few days, he would awake after dreams, intense enough Draco dragged himself to shower. And curse. How? Why now? Even his teenager years were never this erratic. “He’s gone. Forget it.” Why did he have to reawaken his libido at all? Why did his subconscious torture him? It was during lunch he bit his lip at his mind being elsewhere.Lotty announced dreadful news the following week.“Harry Potter is at the Manor, Master – Lotty did not allow him inside.”What now? Why now? Was he here to claim he was better already? Impossible. Draco straightened his collar before heading off.It was fine. He would tell Harry to piss off. Look down on him and feel nothing. He opened the door, in a fake rage he couldn’t quite pull off.Harry stood there in his silly Muggle clothing, holding a stack of parchment tied haphazardly together, looking as comfortable as Draco felt.“It’s about Albus, I know I shouldn’t be here because I haven’t--,” Harry said. “And what you – what Scorpius – what Albus said before.” Draco scowled. He wouldn’t sway, he wouldn’t agree to this. Just let him talk and close the door on his face. Easy. Don’t look at his mouth. “I don’t know anything about potions, or what he’s supposed to be doing, or even how I’d find out without someone lying. I don’t want Albus to be miserable. I told him to write down everything he’s been asked to do. I don’t-- I don’t think this is right. Please could you look at it?”Draco saw the manipulation, presented out like Yuletide gifts in little bows and sparkling under floating candlelight. Say no. Tell the Manor to get rid of him. Tell Lotty to Vanish the pest. Tell… Tell Scorpius he couldn’t help Albus. Tell Albus he didn’t care where he ended up. He gripped the door tight. Close it. Close it now.Some might be truth. Some.Go away, leave. Draco loathed the puppy eyes. Scorpius had already asked once to check. He spied the parchment in Harry’s hands.He hated kids in general. He appreciated Albus, the brat was one of the highlights of Hogwarts for Scorpius. The day Scorpius brought Albus over, all laughing and animated and showing off his room and all the things the Manor had that Albus’ didn’t. How relieved Draco was to see his son bounding around, loud for once, being as Draco remembered doing at his age.Urgh.Fine. Bloody fine then. And Draco slipped out the Manor before Lotty made a scene.He took the parchment and within the lists and dates and times: Draco saw nothing of worth. Nothing Albus couldn’t do at his own lab, in his own time. No training or help. A constant routine of cleaning vials and cauldrons and copying from a book. No potionwork, no teaching or learning. Months of it, months of being hired help. This wouldn’t do.Albus deserved better than this.“Lead the way.” Draco handed the stack of parchment back and held out a hand. The pull of apparation was unpleasant. Or maybe the familiar twinge of heat from Harry. Like a little furnace burning endlessly. He held on, ignoring the urge to grip tighter.A laboratory. Draco knew that cauldron cleaner smell anywhere. The thick stacks of parchment crammed into bookcases alongside tomes thicker than the wood encasing them. A dusty hovel with three rows of benches, and using one wobbling table Albus Potter sat surrounded with a stack of yet more parchment and books. Books old, but not valuable. Fourth Editions and co-authored messes. Draco turned up his nose at the smell. Stains of all types marred the pages.“Dad?” Albus sat up straighter at the sight. “Mr. Malfoy!”The smile was unexpected considering he’d refused the kid any leeway from the hiccup with Scorpius. No one else was here. Harry marched away, rubbing at his hand. And Draco refused to look his own. It didn’t feel so cold any more.“Copying out another tome?” A terrible idea for the middle of the day. Midday was the peak time for most potions, most experiments. Draco sided up to Albus. Watched him write. “So, where’s the old fart?”A snippy voice came from behind one of the overstocked bookshelves. “Who’s in my lab? Albus, you better not have brought friends. This isn’t your place to use as you see fit.”Harry headed straight for the noise.This potionmaster wasn’t one Draco recognised as he popped out from behind a fake door. How original. His face had never been in the Potionmaking Times. That did not bode well considering Blaise somehow managed to sneak his way on there. Pureblood and Above Average did that.“Mr. Potter! And…” Draco ignored the fake tone, leaned over to read the scribbled writing in the margins of inches already written out. Duh. Boring. A variety of swears and a few scratched out faces. Such excellent teaching and learning going on here.“What can I do for you, Mr. Potter?” He cleared his throat, turned his back on both of them at the table.“I’d like to know why you’re wasting Albus’ talents.” Albus’ attention snapped down at his book, flicking the bottom corner in near rhythmic fashion. Huh. His shoulders were up like an alley-cat too.“He’s doing the best he can, Mr. Potter. I assure you.” Harry took a deep breath, holding back whatever anger or frustrations he had. This unknown tutor might be shit at potions but buying titles or sweet-talking the right people might not be above this man’s skill set. He had time, greying hair and a thick, long beard tied up into a knot. He probably knew everyone in the circles, the right people in the right circles.“How many potions has he brewed since he’s under your tutelage?” Draco asked in Potter’s stead.“Oh, many. Has he been saying he’s not being allowed to?” He didn’t so much as turn to look at him as he answered. All the focus on Potter.“Is this after he finishes copying pages upon pages of parchment?” Draco egged him on. A little more...“The theory is just as necessary as the practical. I understand perhaps both you and Mr. Potter did not sit N.E.W.T.s for Potions. Potions is not all practical work I’m afraid.”A rush of heat to his face, the sudden image of this old fart being thrown upside down and begging for forgiveness flashed in his mind. He hated this. He hated it. He hated it so much. Again. It was happening again. Bloody N.E.W.T.s.“Could you go over what my son does here? Exactly.”“I couldn’t. I have my own work to be doing, you see, it’s a miracle I’ve enough time for an apprentice – but I do wish to help your son, Mr. Potter. For all you’ve done for us.”“So this isn’t accurate?” Harry handed over the parchment.Oh the pity. This was a Lockeheart of Potions. All chatter no substance. Why had Albus taken this man as his potionmaster was beyond comprehension. Harry must have interfered. No one decent at potions would ever believe this ‘writing out’ behaviour acceptable during the Optimal Time. Why-- Why even bother?Ah. Wouldn’t everyone scramble to have a Potter kid? Harry scuffed his shoes and now it made sense. Harry wasn’t the type to be brow-beaten into something. Rules didn’t apply to him. Draco laughed loud and Albus jumped, eyeing him wide-eyed at the noise.“I love it! Take in the kid whose known to be a black sheep of the family, collect the favour from everyone – including his father – and drop him as soon as you can get whatever achievement you can milk from him. Such a lazy greed you have.”“Nonsense. I would not drop an apprentice for just any reason.”“You’ve said you’re almost too busy for one, which begs the question: why would you bother if Albus is so poor a student?”“I’m doing the best I can with what Albus can manage.” Before Albus spoke, Harry did. Draco was all too familiar with his tone.“And what do you think my son can manage?”“There is more he cannot manage than he can.”The poor bastard just insulted his family. In front of Potter. Poor, poor potionmaster. Snape would have outright refused to be spoken to like that.Draco took Albus back to the Manor first. If only to save some face.Did Harry really need him in the end?The only thing Draco could do would be impart some knowledge and wisdom about a career. Less the potion side and more of the human side of it all. Apprentices were used and sometimes abused, some were leveraged into ridiculous clauses and works stolen.“Remember. If you want to work on something new or improved you don’t tell them, you don’t work on it on their schedule. You’ll have time for all that later. Stay with them and learn that’s all there is to it.” What else could he say? Could he do anything else? Not enough and it may very well upset Scorpius too if it turned out Albus failed.“I’ll give you some notes on some of the potionmasters that should interest you. However, they’re a decade out of date.”“Why only a decade?”Draco told Albus to sit and wait.He went to his own lab, searched to find the thick parchment tied together with brown string. It wasn’t as if he would use it. Handing it off to the next generation and all that tripe. Draco returned with it underarm and slipped into a seat and Albus joined him without hesitation. Leaning over and trying to read them as fast as possible. If only Scorpius was as interested in Potions. Not that being a Seeker for a potential National Team was ever a negative. But Potions were easy to talk about. Safe. Comfortable. For Draco at least.Lotty appeared, head poking through the wall. “Harry Potter has re-arrived.” Lotty twisted on an ear. “Will Lotty let Harry Potter back in?”Albus shifted in his chair.“...Let him in for now.”Thankfully, Harry made no comment as Lotty led him back. He sat down and watched Albus devour potion information about the best (out of date) potionmasters and what he should look to do (eventually, maybe).“I would’ve bet Granger in Potions if I could’ve sat my N.E.W.T.s. Fool,” Draco sniffed.“Who’s Granger?”“Your Aunt Hermione.” Harry handed another prospect over after looking over some himself. He was trying to help but he was simply messing up Draco’s system. “How about this Travis--”“No,” Draco snapped, snatched the parchment from his hand and set it away. Far away.“Why not?”“American.”“What’s wrong with that?”“Try doing potions when you have to convert every measurement, including the size of the cauldron into ‘cup fulls’. Mad. The lot of them.”Harry nodded as if he understood. He most certainly did not. Draco remembered the abysmal Potions of Hogwarts.“How about Marco Glass?” Albus finally spoke up.Oh.Draco sat in his bedroom as a boy, eagerly looking through the latest news about up and coming potions. Ones that could make you live forever – maybe – but Marco Glass always came out with long, dry and utterly dull content that for a long time Draco dismissed as being only dull. He might very well be the only genius left in potions, much of Draco’s ease and knowledge in Potions came from those long and detailed essays and discussions of ingredients and primers and all the magic potions entailed.“He’ll consume all of your time. At least, a hundred hours a week till your apprenticeship is complete.”He could still see the hours stamped on the parchment, handwriting forced capitals and too spaced out to be thoughtless. In red ink: LAZY AND DUMB NEED NOT APPLY. He’d always considered the position his even as a brat.Harry looked over to the worthless piece of parchment in his hands. This one wasn’t as good as Glass. “You’ve done a lot of research.”Draco looked down at the parchment. He cast it away. This other master would never match Albus’ and his more introverted personality. He tried to pick another up, look uninterested but purposeful.“Potion masters don’t change in one lifetime.” They tended to be rich enough, smart enough or powerful enough to extend their lives a half-century. He hated the Potter Gaze, tingling on his face.“Is he any good? Professor Glass. That’s pretty funny. Glass.” Albus took Draco’s old notes in his hands. Looked at it with more interest than he’d ever seen on the kid’s face.“He’s a solid choice, if you really want to devote your life to potions. It’ll be night and day from Hogwarts. You’ll have to think for once, not just follow notes.”Showing a few more proved a waste. Albus had sat with the parchment to Marco Glass, glancing down at it despite other names in the air.“I’m going to go to him – Dad, don’t. Don’t meet this one.”“Yeah, yeah I know.” Harry waved the concern away. Fast.Regardless of how strained or renewed Albus and Harry’s relationship; Draco knew only from being a father that it had hurt him, deeply. To know he was a hindrance to his son than a help.“You’ll need to impress him, most likely he’ll ask you to brew potions yourself without notes. I suggest you think of something unusual rather than difficult for difficulty’s sake.” Albus hung on his words, half out his chair already. He wanted to rush off in that youthful bout of energy and do something. Draco was used to tempering energy which made some kids not able to sit still.“Research everything you can before going in to speak with him. He doesn’t suffer fools and one refusal from him and most will close their doors. The others will take you on purely because he refused. And you’ll be lucky if you ever get your name attributed to your work.”“Thanks, Mr. Malfoy.” A grin, a ghost of a mixture between Harry’s and Ginny’s and how odd it was to see on the brat that always had his nose in a book when he visited.When Draco was a boy he had worried. Outright worried about being married. About having children. The pressure was on as soon as he’d heard Pansy’s mother talk to his – and both of them discuss the correct colour of a wedding dress. What time was the best time for invitations to be sent out. He was fourteen and the inevitability choked him, scared enough to pick fights with Pansy in the hope she too would think it was an awful idea. And Draco wondered if that’s what Albus was stuck with, doing what was expected because Albus was good at Potions.“Know whatever subjects you excelled in at Hogwarts doesn’t mean you’re stuck with, you don’t need to go into potions. Do what you want Albus.”“I like Potions,” Albus rushed away, ignoring the mess he’d made. He got that from his father too. A whirlwind of parchment to clear away. Harry cleared his throat and Draco spied Lotty glaring, head popping through the door again. He shooed her away.“How’ve you been?”Awkward chit-chat, great.“I can do a Patronus – without needing your help it would seem.”Unexpectedly, Harry brightened, leaned forward. Pleased. “Owl?”Lying could backfire here. Especially if it were an eagle. That would make Draco look dumb. He sidestepped the question. Looked away. Harry caught it like a Snitch.“You haven’t managed to materialise it, have you?”The smile did things. Terrible things with squirming and fluttering and warmth and Draco retreated back into himself. It would be so easy to keep it up. To forget how terribly worried and how much headspace Potter and his problems took up in his life.“Don’t forget. This was a favour to Albus.” Draco fled, apparated directly to his kitchen, a snivelling Lotty asking for forgiveness for allowing Harry Potter to come into the Manor again.No more Potter. None. Depottered. Undone. Forgotten.“Malfoy Manor, tell Harry Potter he’s not welcome.”Draco needed tea and tea he had.Wednesdays and Fridays were the days he bugged Luna. Keeping away from her strange contraptions. The rest were spent seeing to Decimus and ordering Lotty around to keep them both sane and settled. When he needed it, he arranged a time with Matthews, the Mind-Healer. Times were unusual. Sometimes twice in a day the other, once in a month.Despite this, Draco returned without fail, still with the same mixed feelings. He liked talking about himself. Obviously. He liked talking about himself when someone listened without harsh judgement. He spoke about how he wasn’t Good. And Matthews claimed it wasn’t the first time he’d drawn a line between everyone else and himself. Draco did not call him a liar. But he thought it.The following week was no different. And the next one. And the next. Luna started sending more letters, short sweet things that made Draco smile. What was a Snivelfer and why was he being warned against them? He answered with one word, ‘Rubbish’, signed off with an initial instead of his full name.The Manor rang loud at the door, showed him Hermione’s bushy hair confined in thick ribbon. Weird. Why was the Minister here? He stayed put, wrote another few words to Luna while the house elves busied themselves.“Are you well?” She stood staring at Lotty who, once again scowled at her attempt at handing over said ribbon, hair now a frizzy mane around her face.“Can you stop trying to ‘free’ my house elves? She is happy here, I assure you.” Hermione tutted, while Lotty fled away from the strange woman who tried to gift her many things over the years. “And are you asking as my boss or for some bizarre sense of Gryffindor sentiment?” Draco mirrored her arms, folding them over his chest.“That’s quite enough of that.” She picked at where her robe met the leather bag, the strap fixed and fiddled with. “You’ve had a rough year and all and if you ever needed to talk--”Nope. Not happening.“Spare me. What is it?”Instead of being flustered, Hermione relaxed at the interruption. “Since Blaise and Theodore are-- have a warrant for their arrest, we didn’t want you to be sitting on your own for too long.”What? What did she imagine he did all day? Did she think all Draco did was whinge and whine at home, lonely and without ambition? And we? That better be including Ron bloody Weasley.“I see Luna and Neville every week. In fact I'm pretty sure Longbottom might be planning on rescuing all the weeds and saplings that are dug up.”Hermione sat back against the back of the couch. How rude, how utterly lacking in manners Muggleborns were too. No wonder Potter turned out the way he was if this was the smart one in the group. “Sorry.” Rubbing at her head, she said, “Harry asked. I thought you’d be fine but he seemed worried. Can I tell him you’re doing well? Would that be an exaggeration?” She tried to contain her hair, shoving it behind her ears.“Do as you please.”Before, back before everything, he had watched Hermione clean up after Harry’s mess. No questions, no pestering for knowledge or leverage, no damned lectures like he would assume. He could use some of that Gryffindor help, he supposed. The damage, however superficial of the attack orchestrated by Quartz and his men, left the irredeemable fact: the memories broken were gone. How many of them? He had no idea.He refused to think on it, refused to look into the room. Lotty herself unwilling to say what was left inside, what was missing. Draco vaguely only remembered Astoria dancing and he could not bare if it turned out a precious memory truly was lost. How would he know? How could he read the label amongst the shattered pieces and say what exact moment in his life, her life, this referred to?Ron would never sit at his bedside willingly, not without a word from Hermione.“Actually, I may need your help with something.”For once, she seemed eager to stay. If she dared make a deal of this, his asking for help, he would refuse her company forever. He took to looking away from her.“Of course.” Finally, she stopped resting against the couch and Draco took that as a sign to move. He wouldn’t specify exactly what he required – he wasn’t sure – did he want to know? Did he want to look? See it? What should have been a reservoir of memory and happiness for himself and Scorpius wrecked.They arrived at the door, another entrance from the hallway instead of going through the bedroom. “Most of the memories I had stored of Astoria are in here.” He glanced to the door, clear of any damage. “I haven’t been in to check how much was lost.”“You haven’t been in since?” Hermione blinked. And it must have clicked in her head what she was being asked to do, being asked for, as she nodded and slipped into the room without another word.He could hear her spellwork through the wood. Some were most definitely lost. He bit his lip as he waited. How long would this take – and if so how many could be left? No longer than five minutes passed and yet Draco loathed every second. Would she say everything was gone? Nothing salvageable?“All done.”She seemed to have the wrong idea as she stayed inside. Draco wasn’t going in there. Not yet. It would take him time to brave the painful reality behind this door. He needed time to prepare for empty shelves, barren and cold. They walked back to the entrance in silence. “Draco if you’d like we can talk about other opportunities, you don’t need to-- if you don’t want to return to what you were doing before.”“That’s literally all I did for years.” If Hermione suggested sorting her mail, he might die from the sheer horror at being thought of as this desperate. “But you’re in a unique position.” Unique? Isolated from society? Sure. Unique. Hardly meant good, though, did it? “I realised it this morning,” Hermione rambled on, now in a mood Draco couldn’t undo but it piqued his interest. She must have been thinking on this for a while now. “People don’t really temper their reactions to the delivery owls.”She did not just suggest that.“You want me to spy for you?”“I wouldn’t say that.” An abrupt answer, for any listening ears. “Just ensure the confidential and otherwise important correspondents end up in the right hands. That’s all.”What a fantastically neutral reply.“...And perhaps let you know how they react?”“That would be very helpful. And it would be something only you could do. You’ve had the practise of doing it among the best of the best.”Perhaps Draco should revisit the Aurors and claw their eyes out for this injustice.“I resent the idea you’re offering me to be some Ministry pet.” He scowled. What a terrible day this was turning into. “I take it you’ve already weighed up the fallout if I’m ever found out,” Draco said, unenthusiastically whilst Hermione dug around in her bag. She produced an already wrapped parcel, an envelope nestled between the strings.“Care for a trial run?”He peered to look at the name. “What is it?”“Just returning an artefact to the family. It happened to be cursed to kill Muggles and Muggleborns.”Ah.That – that could be fun. The Minister herself returning a now useless artefact that could kill her, that could be used and aimed at her? What kind of face would this ‘Reginald’ have? He glanced back to Hermione, she seemed far too pleased already.“I’m well aware this is bait.”Hermione grinned and Draco tutted before he turned, wings pleased for a stretch. Tucked away in the hills of Scotland, Draco dropped off onto the window, pecked at the glass.Reginald’s reaction nearly killed him.“No, no, no, no-- why did the Minister have this?”Glorious panic with rushed handwriting and a stream of swears under his breath. This, Draco could get used to without much hassle. How a pompous man who mumbled in Hermione’s presence and smiled a fake smile with no teeth. This could be quite fun. Returning with the letter not as amusing but all the while, he found whenever Hermione sent him other people’s mail, he delivered them –spied from the windowsill- and laughed on return.Sadly his newly appointment, unofficial work could never be spoken aloud. Even as he headed to Matthews, he hushed the idea to talk about his new purpose other than hosting Ministry functions as a favour to Hermione.And the months bled into one another. Harry did not appear again at his his doorstep. The Yule ball came and went. Draco refused to hold another party. Theo and Blaise were still out there. Maybe. Draco had never heard anything from the Aurors. Harry had taken his word: He hadn’t shown himself again.Cooking Class did nothing new. Nothing Draco hadn’t done to the innards of beasts for his potions. He didn’t like the idea of having too many spices in his foods. Beside him Neville threw everything in till Draco could take a bite and breathe fire.The Muggles were still staring and whispering. One of them came over to chat to Neville. It’s when the Muggle-lady flirted did Draco’s alarms panic at her.“You’ve such lovely hair.”Oh. Well, yes. Of course. Muggleborns and Half-Bloods were a thing. Wizards occasionally, maybe more than occasionally, shagged Muggles. Obviously. Draco shifted as another cooed over him.One of them, the old-enough-to-be-Mother-old, mentioned how she was looking for a date for her daughter. He agreed to mingle. To be next to them and learn their oddities about their world. Not flirt. Not wed. He’d wanted to kill them all when he was kid. Vanished from the world.Circe. What was wrong with him? To think murder and death was cool and the right thing, to want as Pureblood – right, in the way the world should go and not in fact how it did. They were dumb. Magicless. Like children. Scorpius could’ve been a squib.Draco’s sauce burned, smoked the air in a series of unknown herbs and spices. All it did was make Draco cough and move away. Without his magic he allowed Neville to take the lead in wafting the air and mentioning, “You’re shit at making this one.”While he was trying to scrape the burnt rice and sauce off the pan, it dawned on him. A horrible thought that leaned heavy and loud.“I’m a terrible person.”No wonder he had no friends. No wonder he was so pleased and comfortable with Luna. The Loopy Luna who might very well be impossible to fluster.“Yeah, a bit. But you’re better than you used to be.” Neville ate his stir-fry in large mouthfuls straight from the pan that Draco refused to watch. He refused to taste his. It was an admonition and Draco blamed the teacher.“Today’s awful.” He scrapped the pan harder and scowled at it. Why did Muggles use such pathetic protection for their food preparation?“Come on, we’ll see if you’re better at conjuring something up today.”Draco shook his head. Someone tried to give him their phone number and Draco panicked out the door with Neville making excuses.Even the fields looked duller, muddier than normal. It wouldn’t work this time either. Neville was simply stubborn enough to keep going. So Draco kept going too. Neville and Draco didn’t talk much as Draco tried casting. Happy memories abundant and yet… Draco stood in a pollen-infested field and failed again and again. And again.“Just the happiest memory you can think of--” Neville sounded desperate. No matter how pleasant a memory, only a wisp came from the wand today. Neville might’ve excelled at teaching herbology and enthuse about plant-life. He didn’t seem to have the knack for charms. “--This is more Harry’s thing.”His ears perked up at it. Made him feel a flush similar to embarrassment but not quite – Draco couldn’t place it. Could Neville read him? Know what he was thinking? He scowled to hide it. He didn’t even know what he was thinking. How could Neville? What a mess.Ah, that bloody name.
Harry.
The memories were bubbling up in his head. He missed him. What a laughable statement. To miss Harry Potter. To miss Harry Potter who was too ill to do anything right by anyone including himself. They tainted his memories. The wisps died off too in the cool breeze. It was a strange mix to wish to see someone and think of them fondly and yet be so resentful too.Nothing new or exciting: Draco still could not summon a Patronus.“Let’s get going before someone sees two old folks running about a field.”He nodded. Notice-Me-Nots stopped most Muggles from paying attention but best they not try their luck on fellow wizarding folk. Wouldn’t that make a headline? ‘Malfoy Dark Wizard Confirmed?’Draco followed on, grumbling, “we’re not old.”“Want to head to the Leaky? Luna’s free again tonight.”“Maybe. I’ve things to do. Can’t be having bar hexes flying all the time.” Neville apparated, his laughter leaving with him.Another month slipped by and another. Neville mentioned his somewhat distant friendship with the Golden Trio these days over a pint of novelty Butterbeer coloured red.“My parents passed away, wasn’t really right for a while myself. They didn’t seem too bothered when I stopped replying to letters. They’re busy and all that. Can’t say I thought that at the time. Hermione’s got the country to run so Ron showed. But I thought Harry would’ve at least been at the funeral. Guess he was proper ill back then too.”His parents were in France, living in luxury most never reached.“You’ve my condolences.”Neville laughed and Draco found himself uncomfortable at the idea he too would laugh about his parents like that when the day came. “More than most gave me. Gotta admit though,” he sighed and sunk into himself. “I was a bit relieved. They weren’t good near the end.”Ah. He knew that look. He knew that look well.“I know the feeling.” Neville looked away, grim as if he’d heard the placating words false and fake. Draco carried on, “Astoria didn’t pass her days that peacefully near the end either.”They drank in silence till their drinks were done.“Hate to hear it.”That’s as much Talking as they did, Neville and Draco in the Leaky or standing around in the extended lands of the countryside to practise casting. Or Draco would send a scribbled note about what he wanted grown. And Neville would reply back a bunch of expletives about how he wouldn’t butcher a ‘sapling’. The utter weirdo. So, Draco would go back to his potions and wonder what other ingredients he could weasel Longbottom out of quicker.It took another month before the wisp of white formed into something. It stretched and sharpened high in the air before setting down nearer Draco’s shoulder.A beak! That was definitely a beak! Finally! He might be Good now, Good enough for a Patronus. Perhaps not the same breed of owl Draco formed – it was too big. More like an eagle of some sort.A predator bird at least, perhaps one of those birds Scorpius kept referring to in his Muggle books that carried people.Maybe the Muggle cooking classes helped?“I wish I had a dragon Patronus. Do they change? It was definitely a beak last time, wasn’t it?” Honestly turning anything into something smaller tended to be easier. A dragon visiting the ministry would go over marginally worse than him visiting it in person.“They don’t always stay the same.”What? Since when? “I’ve never heard of them being different.” Harry said they’d be the same, Patronus to Animagus. One did not change so why could the other?“I think, something usually has to change.”If condescending could thicken in the air, Draco would lay unconscious at Neville’s feet.“I am using happy memories, if you must know. I’ve not been standing around like a pillock thinking about tea cosies.”If his memories, Astoria and Scorpius and all the good times they shared when the three of them were together, didn’t count, what was he supposed to do? Was there a limit on how old a happy memory could be used in regards to conjuring?“Coulda fooled me.” Neville sighed, sat right down despite the grass being dew-frosted. Played with the soil like it wasn’t dirt. “Maybe you should start thinking about lukewarm tea cosies, we might get there faster.”“I swear, any more sass Longbottom and I’m rescinding the Quidditch Cup tickets.” Another shrug. What was he supposed to do when someone didn’t want the only thing Draco could give them? “Shut up, Neville. I hate you.”“Oh no. I guess in twenty-odd years you’ll have to let me know when you fall in love with me too.”Draco made a noise he refused to dignify as his. “I am not in love with Potter. I haven’t seen in--” He shook his head. Forever. “--Months.”The practice continued and Neville kept that stupid look on his stupid face.With a pop, Albus showed up, apparating close by. Of course he did.“Albus?” Neville spotted him first, putting his wand away and walking over. Albus gave a more excited greeting to him than Draco had ever seen him give anyone bar Scorpius. He should leave. Leave the two of them to talk.Draco turned to apparate back home and Albus rushed over, Neville’s curiosity peaked too. Another letter, official and all. Auror’s Department. “Dad sent me to give you this. He said you might ignore him otherwise.” An owl, he could shoo away. Albus? Not so much. Not when he might, currently, be his favourite Potter out of the horde.Should he open it here? In front of them? “Was it my fault?” The question was a strange one. “That you two don’t talk any more.” Neville snorted behind him, Draco scowled and shoved the letter into his robe pocket. Best distract the boy.“Nothing to do with you. What did you decide on doing for Glass?”“I made a poison. And an antidote. Scorpius said it was a crazy idea but it worked kind’ve.”“As in poisoning and curing yourself?” Neville finally had an air of worry about him.Albus tutted. “He said it was a fluke. That I’m not careful enough? So, he’s giving me another chance to see if it was a fluke or not. Gotta do something real difficult.”“Hmm.” Did Albus have anywhere to practice? “Let’s reschedule.” He waved Albus over as he apparated towards the Manor. “You may as well practice somewhere decent in the meanwhile.” Albus apparated into the Manor keen to follow.“Make something finicky; do not consume it. I don’t need to reply to this letter with you in St. Mungo’s. Understand me?”Albus nodded and got to work, pulling out cauldrons and familiarising himself with the lab. Draco excused himself to read the letter. What could it be? He shut the door properly, ripped it open, letting the envelope drop to the floor.He scrunched it in his hand. Damn it. Was he angry? Was he relieved? What was he supposed to do with this?“Mr. Malfoy! Are there any ingredients I’m not allowed to use?”Keeping a hand on the door handle as he shut away the emotion. He could deal another time, when he was alone. Right now, he was helping Albus. Stamping them down, deep and ignored he returned, a quick Incendio before answering, “Write down what you use. Exact amounts.”For the first time, Draco would oversee what he was doing. Point to where the equipment he needed was kept. Ignoring the world outside, Draco took up a chair, read over some tome he hadn’t used much. He didn’t recognise the writing in the margins.“Mr. Malfoy?”Draco hummed a reply, only to let him know he was listening even if he read an old book.“Is my dad going to be okay?”He froze on the words. Did he say platitudes? Could he say them? No, the boy might always be a brat to him but he didn’t think Scorpius or Albus took to kind lies well, well-meaning or not.“That’s up to him.”He picked at the corner of one of his notebooks. A binder of Muggle-Paper. “I wish sometimes he wasn’t my dad, but I don’t want him to--”Wow. That was… They were more strained than Draco assumed. Did he loathe his father? Did he reset him and his fame? Draco had a taut and frayed relationship with his own father depending on the time. Depending on his mood. Whenever he still thought himself righteous and unlucky.Albus looked to be struggling, with whatever emotion he held inside. With a brother who hated Draco and distrusted Scorpius and a father breathing down his neck, he did wonder where Albus could go if Glass refused a live-in situation.“You’re welcome here, Albus. Come and go as you please. But no more fistfights.”“Won’t happen again.” Albus nodded, blinked hard and fast before excusing himself to look at the cauldron. It wouldn’t need stirred for another ten minutes but Draco left him to his thoughts.Neville returned sombre the following week and Draco already knew why. Came under the guise of checking on one of the browning hedgerows.“Harry only mentioned I should tell you that-- They’re certain Blaise has been Oblivated. Unsure about the Unforgivable but yeah, leaning towards it.” Draco did not react as Neville grimaced at the word. He already knew. He knew how simple it could be to lie through the Ministry as a victim and not the perpetrator. “Theo too, though not so much.”“They found Theo?”“Came into the Aurors on his own.” How innocent of him. Probably offered to give them whatever they needed. “You want to talk to them?”No. The thought of seeing Theo smirk, smug over what he had – might have – just gotten away with… Wait. “How could you possibly arrange that?” Potter couldn’t even go and chat since he was involved.“People owe me favours.”Huh. “If you had an ounce of ambition Longbottom, you’d be rather dangerous.”“Who says I’m not ambitious?”“You’re a schoolteacher. You garden.” Draco shook his head. “You’re practically a Hufflepuff.” All that niceness, all those favours sitting without a care? Without something attached? What did Harry have to do – what did Draco have to do now Neville admitted to bending the rules? “What are you grinning about?”“Always wanted to be a Hufflepuff.”Heavens above, Neville. “I’ll send word for a Healer this instant.” Neville punched his leg hard enough to make him flinch but he pretended it didn’t hurt. “Do you want to see it? The crup? More than some Muggle photo.”“Sure.” Neville wiped his hands on his robes, though it made little difference to the dirt under his nails.Draco whistled. It skidded and bounded towards them before barking at Neville. Curious, Decimus sniffed. Wagged its tails. More curious over Neville than Harry for once.“You’ve done well for yourself,” Neville told the crup, a few beats against its ribs like he was playing drums.“You should come with us.” He pulled out a familiar clear bottle from his pocket. Decimus tried to sniff it but Neville pushed its face away. “You ever had Muggle vodka? Tastes like potion-stripper but gets you proper plastered quick. Luna’s having a go at finishing it off tonight. We could probably manage a few shots before she takes the lot.”“No?” Taking a sniff, he coughed away, shoved the blasted stuff back. Who, why would anyone drink that? What was Granger made of? What was Luna thinking?“No surprise there.”‘Excuse me?’ That implied Draco had never spent any time around Muggles without Neville’s help. “...I’ve been to a Muggle zoo.” See? His exposure to Muggles was more than a dozen cooking classes.“What do Muggles even have in their zoos?” Neville frowned, and shoved the bottle, larger than his pocket into it. It thumped into something else before disappearing completely.“That’s what I said!” Oh thank Circe, there was sense in that head. If Potter was here --“There’s this thing called a platypus…”Rattling off what he could remember, Draco described the creature. No matter what Neville’s face twisted into. Was it the male or female which had the venomous claw? Either way, the facts he did commit to memory – the absurdity of it all – made Neville scowl.“You’re talking shit, Malfoy. There’s no way that exists.”“I’m telling you, it sweats milk.”“You just said it lays eggs!”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Neville allowed the adoption of his Muggle phone, somewhat, during his meet ups at the pub with Draco. Luna would send a bizarre mishmash of pictures and Hermione would write hefty texts about how Neville was wrong to say what he said several days ago. All Draco read without much bother to Neville’s privacy. He never snatched the phone away, never chided him when he found him looking through old messages of common acquaintances and Neville’s friends.Draco liked to think he was a bit of a Secret Keeper now. Despite a vast majority of the texts were labelled deleted. Okay, so maybe Neville might be closer to a Secret Keeper.Whenever something came from Hannah, he set it back on the table, slipped it back into Neville’s hand and refused to look into whatever she had sent. The second name avoided was Harry, sometimes it would pop up with a few words already displayed and for a second Draco tried to decode it before leaving it aside. No point in knowing, remember. And what if Harry was still lying? He couldn’t bear that knowledge.Harry’s name had started to show up more often these days. And as another text dinged on Neville’s phone, one he replied with one hand and little attention, Draco couldn’t keep the curiosity down.“How is Harry?” He turned the bottle of FireWhiskey in his hands.“You two haven’t talked?” Neville sat the already finished pint down, shifted to move out of the already jittery chair.“All this time and he hasn’t sent me so much as a letter.” The shrug didn’t say he lacked care, more defeat.“I wish he would, I can’t stand the rambling. Now I get what Hermione and Ron meant in Hogwarts, he really can go on and on.” He slid the phone across dramatically and with more noise than necessary. Gave him a very pointed look before he said, “I’m getting another pint.”He knew how to use this technology, as strange as the smooth screen buttons were these days. A word into the bar at the top and he searched for one thing: Draco. And down the list he spied a few contacts using his name, some by Neville in reply.And there sat a message from Harry, from a few months ago.‘You still speak to Draco??’It sounded… accusatory. Did he really want to see? Draco tapped on it for the conversation that flowed from the question. Neville had sent short answers – a habit Draco assumed from the one-handed texting – yes, why.‘how is he?’What a little shit. He could’ve asked him himself, sent a bloody owl.‘Drunk.’ A photo attachment that made Draco’s ears burn. Neville would regret this. When even was this? He was slumped over the table, Seamus and Dean laughing behind him. Ready to sleep, more like, than outright drunk.‘looks fun.’ Neville invited him over, to join in and there’s no reply, no text till several days later. By then, it’s long texts of Quidditch and eventually devolves around the mention of Hannah. And then, Neville’s answer grows longer, snippy almost in a manner Draco saw as an argument they’d had before but never finished. Some more deleted messages litter their go betweens.‘Don’t bring Hannah into this.’‘just mean it’s the same, you didnt want to say anything either.’‘Stop talking about my wife or I will tell Draco.’Why Neville thought Draco would strive to defend Hannah confused him. Hannah was squarely in the category of people who loathed him, and he made it easier on Neville to never meet to try and fix it and avoided her as much as possible.‘dont please dont’‘Unreal. Both of you are so childish.’Draco wasn’t acting childish – this was all Harry’s fault.There’s a phone call that happened then, marked as missed. Draco began flicking through quicker, no more mentions of his name. Some messages marked as deleted. No more mentions of anything Draco felt comfortable reading. Draco sat the phone down and in great convenience, Neville returned with another butterbeer.“Can I send him a message? As you.”“Go ahead, if I can borrow an acre.” Neville explained. “A favour to someone. Need it for a night.”Right, Neville’s Favours. For a while Draco considered him scraping favour around for Hermione’s benefit. Apparently, Hannah had mentioned Neville simply liked people being happy. How very… not normal.“Half an acre and the furtherest from the Manor.” Draco typed in his first word before pausing. Glancing to Neville and the sip at another pint. “You’ll read this won’t you.”“I will, but we’ll pretend I never did.”Good.So he sent it: ‘He said he misses you.’ And watched the screen unsure on if he should stare and see if Harry replied immediately or not. Was he a slow replier? He flicked back up to see the timestamps.A bit. Probably for the best. As if it were read in the future, the phone dinged again before he could hand it over and scold himself for the impulsive streak.‘Really? When?’‘Now. And that you’re an idiot.’‘That sounds like him.’Not the most riveting of response. No questions, no confessions, nothing. Perhaps Harry and Neville were still not as close as they had been before the spiralling.‘Said he’s going to the Opraceius Manor this year.’‘Gin’s going this year too.’And Draco handed Neville his phone back, pretended he hadn’t sent a damn thing. “You’re both such children, I swear I’ve students that act more mature.” Disappointment or exasperation.If Harry wasn’t going to go even when told, Draco could infer well enough. Harry moved on, memories already fading. They’d never discussed waiting or pausing – Harry stopped coming completely. Had he taken Draco’s words to heart or had he kept away, his pride at slinking back and saying Draco was right too much?Draco sulked till Happy Hour was over and returned home for a new day. His attempts to remove himself from the his next outing failed. Scorpius sulked, dramatics and all.“You’re exaggerating. You have to learn this, or you can’t go. Once more.”Dancing, a great waste of time and this year the invite received meant someone from the Malfoy family must attend. The sooner Scorpius learned, the sooner Draco never had to set foot there again.“I didn’t have to learn this before.”Scorpius eyed the phantom dancing partner and its lack of facial features. Oh, wise up a little faster, please.“You weren’t officially an adult, you’ve a Key now. So, stop whining.”“I’m not whining.” He huffed. “Just take the Key back, I can just come home if I need money.”“How convincing.”“I’m a Seeker Dad. I’m tired.”“Oh off you get. Do you think every adult isn’t? Up.”Groaning and grumbling, Scorpius picked himself up from the floor as if Draco had demanded him to clean the Manor on his own, the Muggleway. Whether he truly was tired or put it on, Scorpius stood on ghost-shoes and never fixed his hunched postures.“He’s not doing--” Scorpius outright dropped his ghost partner, it staying upright. “Albus isn’t doing well, people keep trying to ask him about his mother all the time. He's barricaded himself home now. I thought it was bad for us at Hogwarts but they’re everywhere.”Ah. Of course. Lily had graduated. The split between the Golden Couple ran non-stop, front-page in every gossip mag including the Prophet. Just when the story died off, it returned with a greater and more shocking headline pointing at Ginny or Harry. Draco had wondered for so long, would they stay together – if Harry did end up better? Wouldn’t it be easier to just stay together?He’d kept the first Prophet on his desk. The first and last photo of Potter in his house. How often he smoothed over the picture of Harry leaving the Ministry, ambushed by a horde of cameras and already scratching Auto-Quills. He tried to gleam more information, despite the irked smile the picture sent him. Most of the dregs of gossip had chosen Ginny as a scapegoat, goading her as a poor wife or mother. Thankfully, the Gryffindors held some intelligence on how to handle the matter least it snowball out of control. Both of them told the press to back off, leaving it only as the last joint decision as a couple.The only thing Draco could say for sure, when the picture snapped, Harry still didn’t sleep well. Six months of hounding already. Now, Albus hid away. Draco could remember Scorpius doing the same whenever the cameras and quills came round to sit in their gardens and waste time.“I’ll go tonight. You go be a good friend. Does that sound like something you can do?”“Thanks.” Scorpius pulled a face. “I think?” His once too tired feet practically skipped to the Floo. Menace. An absolute menace that boy.“And remind the brat he can stay holed up here, I wasn’t speaking sentiment!” Draco called after him, on route to sign the R.S.P.V.Albus had appeared every now and then throughout the months, Scorpius usually close behind. The kid hadn’t taken up his offer to hide away once. A Potter through and through, despite the differing interests.The invitation sat on the mantle of the same Floo Scorpius ducked into. Gold, purple, white and black, depending on if Draco flipped it overleaf, the paper altered its colour scheme. He signed his name and as soon as the ink dried, the invitation flew from his hands and off it went to let the tradition continue. Scorpius would go next year, he would make sure of it.Now, to find something decent to wear. That old suit from before, he might manage to pull it off. Not as if he’d had any other parties to show it.Somewhere in the evening, Albus crashed into his home with a loud apparition, a case filled with rattling glass and vials.“Hope it’s okay for me to stay for a while, Mr. Malfoy.” Still in the habit of looking at his shoes in his presence.“Take one of the rooms beside Scorpius. Use the lab for whatever you need. Lotty can restock whatever you need.”What else did he need to give permission for? Albus seemed the type to toe the line so long as he had what he needed set out for him.“Thanks.” He paused as he hauled the case up further, more rattling of unsecured bottles. He finally looked at him. And froze. What now?“Mr. Malfoy. Are you going out?”Draco knew never to trust a Potter that tried to suppress a smile.“Nowhere fun. Try not to get up to too much trouble with Scorpius.”‘With whatever it is you’re planning,’ he left out. He bid Albus goodnight, Flooing to the awful place that demanded his presence.Opraceius Manor wasn’t truly a Manor. It wasn’t like his home with a once-army of house elves and constant balls and fetes where powerful people were invited. But it didn’t matter to any of the Purebloods. It was grander than all of their houses and châteaus combined. Once every decade or so. The weeds died, the flowers blossomed and the trees bulked up their already thick leaves. Golden and purple, silver and pink all muddled together in the middle of nowhere. Opraceius Manor’s slate and stone, the marble that dare Draco admit it, put his Manor to shame as they started to shine, vibrant and needing no one to do it bar the home itself.Grand staircases opening to a massive floor that could hold every Pureblood in Britain. Draco was pretty sure it grew or shrank depending on who visited. This year was the largest he had ever seen it, stretching on and on. It would seem Opraceius Manor was trying to be impressive, the most grand ever, this year.Everyone – meaning the Purebloodied - received an invite, addressed to go, a cursive drawing of the home signed at the bottom. Too many floral loops for Draco’s tastes. Pretty but pedantic.No one could claim it outright, too many families married in and out, too much demand and too little evidence to keep it contained within one family. So, for once, they might’ve shared it. Sharing in Pureblood terms. They all had to attend else they skip out on the chance to call it their own. Half-Bloods were exceptional gossip and brought to shove their nose in it as a plus-one.Someone might’ve built it once for peace or prosperity. Or for social gatherings and the spewing of compliments to one another. This was one of the only times a Weasley and a Malfoy would historically be in the same room and even these days it was a chore.A few whispers here and there and Draco already wanted to leave. Too much gossip.“I heard, he split from her because she cheated!”“Really? She seemed like such a nice girl. But you know what they say--”Giggling, so much chatter behind the whispers. “That might explain why he’s here!”“I know, do you think he’ll be interested in my Mittsy? She’s young, not too young.”“Face it, she’s a spinster, darling.”Ah, that. No. Best not get into the sights of the ladies who had nothing else to do but marry off their relatives like cattle. Draco slipped away from the news Theodore Nott was still housebound. Housebound, for ‘reasons’ that were far from reality. Draco did not see Pansy here. He hadn’t seen anyone from Nott’s family or Ms. Zabini. He bit his lip, glancing around to make sure they weren’t nearby.Going by how the Aurors treated Draco and his father they wouldn't be leaving Blaise's side for a while either. Theo, Draco had heard, was bound by his parents to remain home. Pansy hadn't so much as shown up to even her own charity functions. She may as well be stuck home with the prick too. So long as he got what he deserved.He’d head to one of the balconies and return home. The summons were completed. No point in making this an entire night. Apparation impossible within the house’s influence. Could he escape on wings? Going to the Floo this early would just highlight who left early. Slow and steady, he would leave everyone’s sight and escape without notice.He ascended the stairs, picked up a champagne flute from one of the many floating trays. A drink, the perfect distraction. Let others’ think he wouldn’t answer because he’d rather drink.The first floor balconies had too many people, cooing over the view of the star-filled sky. Basking in compliments regurgitated to everyone.A frizz of redheaded hair told him a Weasley neared. Oft. Going by the physique, not the one who might kill him by crushing him still best to make room. No, he would rather leave. Accidentally, he shoulder-checked into another guest, panic arising. Just what he needed, another mention about his truly evil manners.Don’t be Blaise. Don’t be Theo. Don’t be Pansy. Please don’t be some reporter. He'd hear about this in a paper a week from now.“Pardon—” Draco almost spilled his glass of champagne over-- “Blaise.”His eyes were wide and before Blaise could speak, Draco used his free hand around his neck to pull him close. No one needed to hear this.“You forced me to duel my son,” he whispered harsh in his ear. “You tried to marry me off for Theo's benefit.”“You've got to believe me, I would never do this, any of this.”“But you did.” For once, the frustration caught Draco’s immediate sympathy. How many times had he thought that? How much guilt had he shouldered over duelling Scorpius? It still hadn’t left – he could still see the kid’s face peaky and panicked.But Blaise didn’t remember. None of it.“It wasn't me!” The noise caused Draco to remember others were around. Mrs bones looked on from afar, white hair coiled around her head. She wasn’t the only one to close the gab with others, whisper. Wonder, what was going on, what drama was under their noses.“Come here, a minute.” Draco allowed to be taken to an archway, allowed Blaise to keep his hand despite the urge to remove his head from his neck.“We have to talk about this. We’ve been friends since we were kids, even after you tried to pull that ‘don’t come near me in public unless you want everyone to hate you’ crap, I still came to see you no matter how much you wanted to mope at home. Just tell me what I can--”“How do I know you’re not just doing what my father did.”And wasn’t the terror of this Unforgivable? To never truly know if someone had willed it or been forced all the way.“I should be pissed you didn’t fucking notice till people died. Is me shagging Pansy or Nott normal to you?” The desperation burned through him. “Didn’t you think that was a bit out there considering Hogwarts? I mean, Theo. Slimy little git.”Did he pick he was the poor friend? Did he hope he just hadn’t noticed till too late and Blaise truly was Blaise, the one he’d always remembered? False hope flared too bright and Draco hated the choice. Both of them sucked.“No.” Draco sipped. Blaise remembered nothing. He supposed this might help him reassure at least the Oblivate was genuine. They slipped to the balcony, without the skyworks and fanciful illusions cast by the Manor later, it remained quiet enough. “I slept with Potter.”“Like… Potter?” Blaise rubbed at his forehead, frowning. “Fuck. What’s even happening? Really? A fucking year, gone and this is so--”“Leave me alone. I’ll wait till Theo trail before I decide whether you’re lying or not.”“I’m not fucking lying! A year of my life is gone! Gone.”The rage was real on his part, Blaise always implosive with anger. Never too easy to rile him to that point, never a task Theo or Draco did on their owns in Hogwarts. Draco closed his eyes. He wanted to say he believed Blaise, to say he could forget instead of forgive – because did he need forgiveness? Did his father ever utter an apology to the horrors he claimed to have committed under spell?Harsher than Draco was used to, Neville’s voice sliced the atmosphere. “Might want to give him some space there.”Blaise left without another word, tears in his eyes and a glare fixed on his face. What a mess. Draco drank some more. Better him seeing Blaise than Scorpius.“I hardly needed you to clear him off.”“Thought I’d let you know.” Neville placed his phone, rather stupidly, on the banister of the balcony. If it fell, he’d never see it again. “Last text message.”Fine. Another check, and there it was: Ginny.‘Harry’s going in my place like I want a bunch of idiots talking about me for a night. Five sickles he does something unbelievably stupid there.’So he’s here? Harry was actually here? Another thump against his back, too heavy for Draco to call friendly. “Don’t run away.”Right.Draco drank the rest of his drink before leaving the balcony. Too many people were starting to spill onto them. Waiting for the entertainment which would light up the sky and remind no one of how small they were but of the powerful magic around them.To say Draco hunted down Harry Potter like they were back in Hogwarts would not go amiss. Neither did it help so many people had dark hair, neither did it help Draco hadn’t a clue – other than the usual nest upon his head, what Harry would look like these days. Not to say Draco wouldn’t recognise him. He bit his lip as he scanned the people below. Nope.Not here.And in the centre of a circle, a gabble of gossips flocked around him. Draco hid behind the column for a moment. Definitely here. He took a few breaths, stole yet another glass of drink and headed for him.Just be cordial. After all what if Harry was here to pick a fight? To lord over some failing Draco showed him before?“Hey. Yeah. It’s me. Hi.” Harry smiled. And a smile from someone else should never make Draco giddy. Don’t think about how nice it was to hear Harry’s voice again. To hear the lilt in his voice when he was pleased.Draco steadied himself, took to looking around to calm. He'd assumed he would never see Harry again considering he never went to the Ministry in person and they seemed at an impasse. And now here they were. Again. Draco never wanted to admit he was too harsh, in case it left Harry feeling like he could return to lying and who knew why Harry had stayed away from so long.Oh. Don’t dare fucking smile. Remember how mad, he made him. Don’t smile. Don’t encourage him, don’t encourage this. Don’t think about how uplifted the bloody sight of him was.“You’re here without anyone shadowing you? That has to be a record.” He managed to stare at Harry’s hair, one wayward strand waving at him.Why was he here?“She told me to come instead of her, she wouldn’t really be having fun here.” Harry eyes were bright, set with intensity from back in his youth. And just like back then too, Draco couldn’t look away.“Lucky you,” he said. He should've ordered a decent suit instead of this old thing. Why couldn’t Ginny’ve texted Neville sooner?Draco bit his lip, trying to erase the sentiment through the dull ache of his teeth. Look away, look at something, anything else. He needed to find an anchor away from those beckoning eyes.A glance managed to the see the trees outside, windows larger than any door and-- Opraceius Manor did not have a roof in the same regards as houses did. It breathed new life into rooms necessary and wanted. A new staircase flittered to life, extending up and pleased tingles of magic washed over him. Good, a place to go.A gasp of wonder at a pond, complete with bridge appeared in the middle of he room. Someone really wanted a romantic stroll and some couples already made their way to coo at the creatures popping in the water.“I thought we could talk, for a bit.” Harry had stolen his attention again.Keep it together. Keep it together. Ignore him. This didn’t mean anything. He was never supposed to see Harry again. They were officially in a different capacity these days. Never in the same social circles, even when he and Neville went out into the Wizarding World, Harry was never invited along.Look away.“So, how are you?”Say fine, move, move on. Harry walked him up the stairs.“Theo’s home.” It explained everything.“It’s out of my hands.”Draco frowned at the phrase. “I… wasn’t blaming you.” Harry didn’t stop. He kept explaining.“It’s probation really until whatever lies Theo’s said are categorically proved. It’ll work itself out. Theo was, well, weird from what I heard when he was told you kept memories of the message he sent.”Draco smirked, “you don’t need to do that either.” Kid-gloves from Harry. Funny. From what Hermione said, they were both Oblivated, or at least seemed it. He sipped at his glass. Blaise, he hoped, was telling the truth. He hoped Theo rotted in whatever torment he made.Theo must have desired to be atop of a hierarchy, once promised by the Dark Lord gone and he was left as a joke. A weirdo, even by Draco – an ex-Deatheater standards and Blaise – a void participant. Had Blaise always been the target or had always assumed he could have both Blaise under his Will as well as Draco?Harry bumped into him again.Ah.What should they talk about? If not those two? If not themselves both, once a time, wrapped up in each other and their pains of the world. Draco kept an eye on the amount of people milling around. If he wanted to fly, there could be no one around. Too busy here. Too busy here to really talk too.Maybe find a free room?His face heated. No, no, no. They wandered in silence. Harry next to him all the while. It was nice. To see him again. Odd feeling, really, considering their last meeting. Draco stared, no dark rings under his eyes. No veins burst in his cheeks from over consuming potions or stress. The Prophet photo on his desk was not of the same man.He blurted out, in lieu of being caught staring. “Seeing anyone? The Prophet seems intent on reminding everyone what you look like. Ginny’s having a time too.”Another fake sip. A balcony empty, though too close to the others to transform and escape. Quiet enough to have a quick word with Potter. A word or two before Draco left. Immediately.“Yeah, Alice.” His gut lurched, oh, yes. Obviously, Draco hadn't seen any names in the few Prophets Scorpius brought home. What was he expecting? A year without a word was obvious.Harry smiled again. Did Harry smile this much last time they’d seen each other? “She’s good, doesn’t see me as a symbol and all that.” He sounded so... happy. And Draco couldn’t hate it, to see him finally feeling better. And he couldn’t feel anything but a heavy weight settle on him. “You seem good.”Draco may have tried to up his pace.Finally, a balcony higher than the rest – an angle where some of the witches and wizards below might catch sight of him if he were to change. Unfortunate, but Draco would stay put till Harry had said his fill. He’d leave as soon as Harry finished talking. Perhaps the Manor would allow him to apparate this early in the night?“Ron’s seeing to the newest Lead and that’ll be him. Out of there, for good.”Ah. He hadn’t seen Ron at all in the year that came and went faster than the last.“Are you two…?” Fine? Better? No longer hating and resenting one another? Stuck in a loop of loyalty that only harmed and caused pain? Harry peered over the edge of the balcony, looked straight down despite the drop. Still lacking self-preservation. It shouldn’t have made him smile. He took a distraction sip.“Not really? A bit. Can’t blame him though. I’ll make it up to him one day.” Harry turned to him, determined. “I will.” Draco had the fullest confidence he would. He nodded, dropped to look at how much he had left. Less than half empty. “So, are you still seeing Matthews?”It took a moment to connect the two. To realise and Draco snorted, laughed, at the misunderstanding already. “Yeah, sometimes.”Draco knew that look too, he focussed on the charmed night sky, washed with all manner of colours. A galaxy stuck swirling above, too pretty and too infinite to comprehend fully. Harry hadn’t changed into someone new – his face still did the Gaze. His still prickled. It was hard to suppress laughter at the feeling.“It’s good to see you.”“Hmm.” Nice to see him too, he smothered the words with a full gulp, finishing the glass. A breeze cooled his face, swayed the trees like Harry’s hair. It was wrong to wonder if it still felt the same between his fingers. If Harry would’ve melted against him still. Definitely the wrong line of thought while standing in the sight of those gossips. To ruffle his hair and pull him close and hold him, Draco pushed the urge down till he could stand on them.Stone against stone, grinding harsh and loud that startled the guests below. The floor quivered and lurched, Harry grabbed onto Draco’s arm as the balcony morphed beneath their very feet, thick side railings raising higher and impassable. Unbelievable. The double-doors, once white and its panels of pretty glass vanished and left them alone, isolated. A box with no roof. No sightseeing guests.Now, was that his fault?The Manor continued shifting around them, dare anyone say its ill-fashioned. If it wrote anything on the walls, Draco would cast Incendio and burn this Manor before his own. Harry had kept his hand tight around his arm.“Why the nerves, Potter?” He shouldn’t have said a thing, he should have let Harry fret. He shouldn’t have – Harry laughed and what a noise it was to have so close to him again.He scratched at his neck. “We could go see a movie. Bet you haven’t had popcorn in ages.” Draco’s smile faltered. This, this was dangerous. Dangerous in how easy it was to slip back into talking, pulling and pushing.“I—” Say it. Willpower: Draco held it in abundance. He broke Hogwarts defences. He refused to use the last Time Turner to see his late wife due to the risk... he could push Harry away again. Just a little push to have him leave his space. That would be that. “I don’t--” Harry was close. Too close. A hand burning its way through his dressrobes.He could make out individual eyelashes behind those glasses. Back to a time when they lay in bed, in peace and only themselves. And Draco remembered it so vivid then, so vivid he could feel the ghost of a kiss against his mouth.“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he whispered out his answer. Don’t think about it, don’t think – Harry wet his lips and don’t look, don’t look. No. Stop looking. Draco could remember the time he kissed Harry and he tasted like tea. And a time like awful Muggle wine. A lazy kiss in the morning, lethargic in waking.All he needed to do was close his eyes and lean forward. So near, Draco could feel the hot breath against his neck and jaw.“Then, what about another bad idea?” Draco could tell what Harry was thinking, precisely, exactly what. Harry always lacked for subtlety. His eyes forgot they were green. And also Harry’s sense of neatness for formal events. Fool came to the Opraceius Manor with a duffed collar and hair looking like he’d rolled out of bed. But don’t even think about fixing it. Definitely a bad idea. He sat the glass flute down on the railing.It was the collar or a kiss.He set it correct, Harry trying his best to catch his eye. No. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about how Harry’s skin was hot against his fingers as he smoothed his clothes and straightened the seams. How his fingers, despite steady, could touch at Harry’s face, his jaw again if he just shifted a little. He sat them there, at Harry’s collar, not sure he could remove them without a hex thrown to force him away.“Think you’ve done this play before, Potter.”“I didn’t forget.” Just as Draco looked into those dark yes, he could see him, from back then, in the Malfoy Manor. Defiant and kissing him before he had a moment to think. Which begged the question: why wasn’t Potter doing that right now? Why was he backing off?Oh. For the love of all that is Magical. Draco sneered, “If I have to spell it out for you, I’ll throw myself off this partition.”“You seem a bit unsure.”“Obviously.” Draco missed the distraction of wine. “I’m used to you throwing yourself at me in the presence of High Society.”“So, if I happen to have a Port-Key home--” Out of his pocket came a tiny penny, one of those Muggle currencies. He held it up between his fingers, between them both, and Draco reached out, grabbed over it and onto Harry’s hand. Good. Harry for once looked surprised as the view distorted and twisted.Draco only recognised the couch and the Floo. His hideaway now a ‘home’. Ah, even the hole where the FireWhiskey Accio’d through the wall had been filled in. Decent. An improvement. That’s all he saw, Harry removing as much space as possible.They’d never said goodbye, never avoided one another for a year, never quelled the urges and wants. Draco just tried to keep up, huffing out held breaths and pulling clothes. All tangled limbs, where Draco could never move again. And Draco slipped a hand, his long fingers down Harry’s side, skin as blazing hot as he remembered.The muddled groan, pulling away and Draco turned desperate. He wasn’t stopping this now, was he? But Harry, “Wait-- Wait.”“Bluster gone already? That’s disappointing.”For once in his life, Harry backed away. “No. I-- This’s not a once-off thing, is it? I don’t want-- if it is I-- I mean--”He ran a hand over his face. Draco tilted his head at the fumbling. That look. Harry had something else to say. Draco moved away, leaving to the couch, planting himself on it with no intention of leaving. His pulse may calm here. At the sight of Potter dishevelled and lips red kissed too much – too little, he wanted to return to it, his mouth felt cold – this, a trial in willpower again.“I was serious about the date. About trying again. Starting over.”He could do honest. “Will I be a secret?” Before Lily graduated they kept their split to avoid any harassing questions for her. What of Albus and his profession or Lily’s apprenticeship, would he need to make concessions and avoid any compromising situations? When did it end?“No.” Harry looked apologetic but did not say anything more. Didn’t move.Hmm. If they were being honest here, truly honest, his foot tapped. Honestly? Could they not talk afterwards?“We never did start this properly first time round, did we.”Hiding away and licking their wounds, slipping to and from the Muggle World might’ve been okay before but not now? For the Wizarding World, they never mattered to the other. Maybe it would be smarter, wiser to move through this slower than before. When they were found out, a shitstorm would be plastered on every rag in the country.He crossed his legs, leaned back and the way Harry gulped. Not helping, Potter. Not helping. The chill seeped into his back, gave him something else to focus on. He didn’t know what to do with his hands – other than putting them back on Harry’s skin – he clasped them, sat them on his knee.“And you’re getting better. You’re going to a Healer?”Harry nodded.“Good.” Draco had many questions and none of them arose in the silence. Harry licked his lips. It felt obscene.“I went there to find you.”The sheer admittance. Of course he bloody did. How arrogant. How conceited to think Draco would wait and lap up his attention. How desperate to flounce into the Opraceius Manor and steal him away from everyone else. Draco was fucking dizzy at the idea.The scuffing of his shoes on carpet distracted them both.“You made me wait. A long time.” Harry shuffled forward, awkward and unsure again. Draco would never believe Harry ever found him imposing or intimidating. This might be close. This might be the closest Draco would ever see Harry hesitant.“I was appreciating your boundaries?”That probably sounded a tad more romantic than ‘I was too busy undoing the unending guilt that was ruining my life’.Draco laughed, clasped hands falling away. Harry knowing boundaries? Harry did move then, whatever he’d heard enough to pull him over. Harry slid onto his lap, sank into him. How strange it was for a solid weight feel so comforting? How Draco breathed in and there Potter was too.Curling his fingers over Harry’s throat, stroking at the nape of his neck, Draco felt the pulse hammer. They could have sex here and now but-- Draco… Couldn’t they do this properly? Normally? Muddled up with injuries and secrets could never lay a solid foundation for any decent relationship, surely? Draco didn’t do half-arsed relationships. Harry’s hands were wandering, his mouth at his temple.Sandwiched between the couch and Harry, Draco wanted both to strip as fast as possible and keep Harry latched on him forever – he was short enough for him to just carry around, keep with him always. Harry kept planting little kisses on him, quick and buzzing with warmth. Harry outright groaned and Draco’s will fumbled to stay.Harry sounded like he was struggling too. He ran his thumb over a small forgotten patch under Harry’s jaw, unshaven and rough against his skin.He dodged the kiss to his mouth, placed his forehead against Harry’s and sighed. Proper. He wanted to do this proper. So no one could argue it was any different from what he’d done before. But...“How about we start over tomorrow?”“Oh, thank god.”And that was that. They attempted in the morning, to have a date. They didn’t stay to watch the names scroll this time. Barely making it to cover to safely apparate away. Draco only managing to order Lotty to care for Decimus in his stead before the bedroom locked and he’d been there for the weekend rolled over to the weekdays. Days that were long and short all at once.“Potter, you might have early retirement but I have places to be,” he said as he tried to slip out of bed again. “I am not a pillow. Or a toga you can wear, off. Get.” He prodded at Harry’s sides again with a finger.Harry snuggled back into the bed, thankfully drifting back to sleep. By the time he untangled himself from Harry’s strangely all encompassing limbs and the strange cocoon of the covers, he wasn’t quite sure what day it was and if Neville would even be waiting.He was, gave him a wave and everything.“Seen Harry I take it?”What? Did he leave a mark? How did Neville see it from over there? Did he look-- “How could you possibly know that?” Neville didn’t need to speak. He just grinned. “I’ll give it to you Neville, you’re a lot more subtle than Potter.”“Not a high bar that one.”Neville set to trying to change form. Like Neville’s tutoring for Patronus, Draco was novice in teaching despite having a fully-fledged form already. They never did manage to get more than few misty-shapes here and there from Draco’s attempt. At least it proved, somewhat, Draco was good. Some parts.“You alright?”“Good. Now, why don’t we go over again why you should pick something else? Something a bit little less ridiculous.”Out of every animal and beast in this plane of existence, Neville wanting to transform into a bee confused him. Worried him. Why? Why a bloody bee?“No. Now, help,” Neville continued trying. Waving his wand too fast for the proper incantation. “If it can be different from a Patronus then I want a bee.”Neville tried to explain why, Draco would stay pessimistic to the idea - no one would be able to hit him. A bee? Why would anyone think that was cool? Even Draco’s owl form was much, much cooler – and being honest – elegant than a silly bee.“Hexed a lot of bees before?”Draco tried to imagine a wizard fending off bees. “No?” Was this really his best argument? Was he actually having a discussion about this?“I get to pollinate plants myself, I don’t need to wait for the seasons to change.”“Good to know you’ll be using this magic to have orgies with the plants.”A finger was violently pointed at his face. “You’ll take that back or you’ll have no more supplies from me.” Draco could tell a lost cause. He sighed at the madness of this conversation never mind its contents. One last vestige of leverage.“What would your wife say? Being a bee?”“Hannah gave me the idea!”Well. Well, then. He just-- what did he say to something like that? “I fail to understand your marriage.”They continued, until Neville broke the silence again.“So, guess you’re in love with Harry after all? When did I say that? How long ago?”“Shut up, Neville. Any more of this and I’m hiding you under the patio.”A deep sigh that had Neville lower his wand as he deflated. “And I’d bet Hogwarts would still have me work over the holidays.”That got a laugh out of him. They both failed their respective spells. Neither of them admitted defeat and agreed to meet next week. Again. It was at this the point clear, neither of them could teach their retrospective spells but it didn’t stop them. Draco would not admit defeat. Even as he returned to the Manor again without a Patronus. Neville had been privy to his change of form only a few months ago. Why he decided to put effort into being a bee and not ask to see Draco's form for a second time was somewhat of a hit to the ego.Harry thankfully had arisen, wandering the Manor and having Lotty chatter to him.Draco eyed his collar. How unfair of Harry to show off Draco’s work so freely. He fixed it again.“Hey.”“I've still to check in with the Healer today. Wait for a bit.”“We'll go out to eat. In the Wizarding World this time.”“Maybe once you've got less people following you. I don't need my parents Flooing in to accost me after you snog me outside and everyone accuses me of slipping you a Love Potion.”Draco twirled a Galleon between his fingers. Appointments with the Mind-Healer were unusual. Most of his young life he reported back on achievements to his parents – who praised him endlessly. Reporting to Matthews came with a mixture of emotion too. Was what he had done good? Poor?The renewal? (The reappearance?) Of one Harry Potter surprised Matthews but he did seem pleased at the news Draco had went to the invited party, allowed someone else over in his house – how could he understand the weird dynamic that was Albus Potter? - and the ‘slower’ steps Draco claimed to be taking with said Harry Potter and the relationship it entailed.He may have lied a little.All in all, he left, feeling lighter. His decisions were good, good enough Matthews had reserved his comments for the end. Instead of interjecting for more context or justified reasoning.Draco paced around the house intermittently taking tea. No. A waste of time, a waste of precious time. He headed downstairs to the lab. Not too gloomy these days considering Albus made his way here between boughs of inspiration. Some of his potions and attempts lay strewn around, messy as ever.He sat there, waiting for the cauldron to calm to a simmering heat. Ignoring the wet grass wafting from one of Albus’ potions on stasis.Even if Harry had admitted he drank potions for sleep though they were more regimen than necessity, Draco had his own quirks after the years. He never did like his handwriting again. All throughout the weeks, checking and testing what and how Harry had changed came to the relieving fact: he couldn’t be faking this. Couldn’t be lying at all.Harry had given him a letter from his Mind-Healer, quoting the dosage and recipe. Apparently her view of him was swayed? Whatever the little explanation she wouldn’t normally do such a thing, if only Harry hadn’t demanded ‘to keep this to as few people who knew of his potion-taking as possible’. Draco replied that he’d made another in the past. Sent that list back with Harry like a child being the go-between from teacher to parent. Out of everyone, Harry could not lie about potion ingredients.This one was different from what he’d made before. This one worked with such potency, Draco was jealous he hadn’t thought up using primers and catalysts in such a way. Who came up with it? He wanted to write. Asking would only highlight his incompetence. It smelt familiar. Draco hummed Lotty’s usual tune.For a long time, before Matthews helped ease his frantic thoughts, sitting alone in the lab proved impossible. Paranoia distracting him like a fly buzzing around his head. Draco found excuses to leave. Most days, Draco brewed for fun. Making up silly potions from when he was a child or, experimenting and waiting for the cauldron to explode.Albus’ potions were important for now and Draco couldn’t risk it. Decided to check ingredients and cut out the hardened stems and remove the turning mouldy-moss. Following on, an attempt at what this Alice wrote.Her handwriting was atrocious and most of his time was spent decoding it. The cauldron bubbled gently by him and he set to work.He lurched forward as Harry hugged into the crook of his neck. Woah, there, he’d almost spilled the measurement cup. A grip so tight Draco wondered what wounds the Mind-Healer dug and routed around in. Probably the main one, the one where all his guilt stemmed. There was no way to unfeel an emotion, only digest it. Harry would always feel something at the memory but it wouldn't ruin his life.Ruffling Harry’s hair, he stayed silent. Sometimes, and there were many times these past few years alone, Draco wanted words to cease existing. Make it impossible to think. He’d have to interact and how draining it really was when all he wanted to do was lay in the dark and have it swallow him.Harry snuggled in. He had to be hurting, terribly so and Draco stroked his hair. A small token of appreciation. Harry was Dealing With It. At least, what else could it be? Potter did seem to like whenever he ran his fingers through that nest of hair, hopefully it offered some respite to his guilt. To whatever was going on in this thick skull of his.In part he was glad, so glad and relieved the idiot was even trying to undo the damage for the sake of himself. Draco sighed. Harry leaned against him like he needed him to keep standing.Draco returned to the potion-making with the added weight of one sad man. He made slow movements, keeping from jolting Harry or undoing the comfort he found somewhere in between his neck and shoulder.Right. Finished. He bottled it and put a stopper in. Wordless he prodded it on Harry’s forehead. Maybe the idea would physically transfer if he did it enough. Harry uncurled like a cat in the sun and took it. He left and Draco set to filling more vials.“Lotty, take these and put them in whatever room Potter’s decided to use. After, make sure to polish that floor, it’s dare I say, looking mighty awful.”Lotty nearly bounded up the stairs in excitement at the prospect of doing something to better the Manor and appease him in one swoop.Draco didn’t need to wait the full hour, but he did. He didn’t need to slip into the same bed where Harry slept, but he did. For one, Harry had hilarious bedhead. Second – and perhaps Draco would acknowledge one day he was being facetious in his thoughts and this really was First priority - he didn’t want Harry to wake up alone and miserable.It was easy to see when Draco had to leave him alone, when Draco would give a platitude: it was okay, it was fine – it did nip, the rejection. It wasn’t a rejection of him personally, at least that’s what Matthews tried to explain. And Draco would leave him if Harry needed it, but never actually leave him. The Mind-Healers were either all barmy and paid too much or paid not enough.It was easy to see when Harry wanted him here. He was like a squid, or octopus or – Draco lay in the darkness, thinking up animals. He didn’t know many Muggle ones. A starved merman, that fit better. He hugged into him, sometimes even lying on him – as if Draco Malfoy was a particular brand of bedding – and he’d try and smother himself with him. It was all very normal and Draco found nights where Harry did want him around more than not.In the night, a blanket of anonymity to most, Harry started talking against Draco’s neck. Head between Draco’s and the pillows like he was trying bury underneath and hibernate.“Would you be mad?”Draco might’ve considered he was high off Albus’ potion fumes, maybe dreaming before he believed it came from the tiny voice of one Harry Potter.“Mad for what?”The silence droned that horrid way that even the scratch of fabric against each other sounded too loud.“If I introduced Decimus to a dog. My dog.”“A dog?” He’d certainly heard a few people gush about them before. How anyone could proclaim they were adorable or ‘good boys’, Draco couldn’t understand. Crups existed. No contest there. “You have a dog?”Decimus wasn’t a dog. But it was unlikely he would befriend other crups due to Draco’s blackened name and Draco wouldn’t be at home all the time.“I got one. Just. If I could bring her here…” Harry could stay in the house longer. “Albus is taking her. Both like the company.” He rambled, just like how the other people did their dogs. “She’s called Aurora.”Of course it was.“Go to sleep, Harry. We’ll talk about this in the morning.”“Oh. Okay.”The morning was a morning of great upset. Draco expected to see something similar to the dogs the people at Hogwarts or at the Ministry would describe. Something yappy, or fluffy. It was not any of that. It was a strange creature – somewhat like a crup, he supposed though the one tail looked strange.“Is… Is it... sneaking?” The dog was low on the ground, moving forward only to freeze – not so much as a twitch, paw held up, waiting – and it would continue on and on, sniffing but staying low. What a strange animal. Why such an intense expression for moving forward?“It’s a border collie, they do that. They usually work in farms herding sheep.”What? Now Draco was confused and glad to show it off. This didn’t make any sense. Had Harry been hit on the head? Was this a side effect to the potion? Should he call a Healer? “I don’t have a farm.” Harry still didn’t look like he understood the problem. “You don’t have a farm. We have no sheep Harry and I will not purchase them to amuse your… creature. Dog.”“I’ll take her away if she doesn’t get on and all but--” But he was gambling that they would. “She could keep the birds in line I suppose?”“The birds that can fly? Or do you mean tell me this thing can fly too?”“No. Grasping at straws.”Urgh. What did that even mean?Decimus was, by far, the most animated out of everything in the household. It bounded around, legs flailing and ears flopping wildly as it skidded to a halt only to rush off again. Tails wagged, butts sniffed and play-bowing commenced.“Right well, keep an eye on them would you?”“Sure, we can play fetch outside for a bit.” Harry had squatted down, came to give his dog a calming pat as Decimus, the loon, decided to howl and hop up onto the couch as if proclaiming it as his own, as if showing it off.“If your dog can do something, my crup can do it better.”He left the three of them to tire themselves out, all while Draco laughed at the immediate yell of Harry shouting for Decimus to be careful.Good. Couldn’t be having it too easy.Neville had instructed for him to ignore the idea of Patronus casting and instead simply marinate in his happy memories. It never helped. For one he could never marinate in memories, it sounded ridiculous. The wisp would take shape, somewhat, a beak usually, or an awfully large talon. As if it didn’t quite know which bird it wanted to be, Neville said it might be changing from owl to something else. Draco couldn’t be sure. They all looked the same to him.This time he cast inside, not near Harry so he could see his failure. He cast it again, the wisp, familiar and no longer a sign of hope but of not falling backwards, solidified. Long and wide this time, the beak was easily bigger than Draco’s hand. Maybe it really was one of those large eagles that carried folk.The rest spilled out of his wand, a strange warmth emanating from it and inside himself. Oh – he was doing it, he nearly flailed in excitement only to refocus. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts.His Patronus was not an owl or an eagle.“No.It shrieked at back him, outraged he had summoned it.“No! You’ve got to be kidding me!” He snarled back.This was – was a- the door handle lowered and Harry said, “Draco? Decimus is wanting--” Whipping around, Draco must stop Harry. He could not see this.“No!”Harry already had a foot over the threshold so Draco shoved his hands over Harry’s eyes. What was the hex for making someone lose their eyesight temporary? Nox wouldn’t work here. Patrnous and their silly luminescence.Harry grabbed at his wrists, tried to ease them away. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”“Don’t look. Don’t even think of looking.” He held the palm of his hands firmly over Harry’s eyes. Draco glanced back to the beast. Why this? Why you of all creatures. “It’s not a bloody owl. You said they’d be the same.”“It isn’t an owl?”“No, it’s not. Neville said they can change, why, why is it different?”“I’m not an expert. Just, y’know, feelings can change them. Snape’s was a doe because my mother’s was.”That didn’t help at all! “I don’t know anyone with this Patronus. Go away, shoo, shoo.” A feeble attempt to make it disappear, he tried to prod it with his foot. It looked at him most unimpressed and Draco fumed back. He hated it. Out of all the animals in the world this was his defence against Dementors and unfeeling darkness?Draco’d rather snog the Dementor.“Tonk’s changed to a canine because of her love for Lupin – he was part werewolf.”What? Lupin? The teach-- Draco blinked, looked between Harry and the Patronus and its stupid-beaky-face. Of course. Of bloody course. This was Potter’s fault. The bloody story of his life.“Can I see? I won’t say a thing.” Harry said another thing, and Draco didn’t appreciate the tone. “It’s not a ferret, is it?”“No, not a ferret.” He loathed it, squawking and flapping about. Harry would love it. Harry would definitely lose his mind. It kept edging towards Harry, as if somehow it knew. It knew Harry would like it.“You tell no one. No one. Not one. None of them can hear of this. Do you understand me, Potter?” Behind his hands, Harry nodded. And it dawned on him. Neville would know. Did Neville know? Had he always known? Had he given him the instructions to conjure… this creature?Draco let go, found the marble and its sheen more interesting in what Harry’s reaction was, he lied to himself. His eyes never made it to the floor. Never made it to the carpet.It took all of a second for his Harry’s curiosity to twist. “That’s Buckbeak!”The hippogriff pranced about, rearing up, lowering its head keen on Potter’s attention. This wasn’t happening. Harry grinning and cooing all over it.“Stop, stop it right now. Both of you.” Harry acted like it was a newborn crup and that blasted monster decided to swish its tail and croon over him. Draco tried once again to shoo away the beast. It gave him a look. Impossible. The same look as that stupid one from Hogwarts gave him before he fell.How dare-- “This is ridiculous.”Harry stroked its beak and neck. “It does fit you, too proud to lower your head before anyone else, grumpy when you’re hungry. You think no one can tell you what to do… It is very you, you know--”Yes. Well. So long as Harry didn’t look too deeply into this abhorrent summon.“If you say I’m at all like this unhygienic beast, I will Vanish both of you.”“Wait. Wait—didn’t you also say--” Harry’s face Did The Thing. Him Thinking. Hard. Connecting the dots and all that. Oh no, no, no. He wasn’t admitting anything with that in the room.“I’m leaving. Get rid of it.”A yell that sounded much like Harry was having far too much fun on Draco’s account followed him, “You love me! Malfoy, you love me!”“Lotty, pass on my condolences to Scorpius. I’m going to go drown myself in the Thames.”“Lotty cannot allow that. Lotty can make tea.”He sighed, down at the house-elf that twisted her ears with shaky hands.“Tea it is.” He followed her to the kitchen, sitting on the stool and waiting for the nerves to stop. What was Harry going to do now? The idiot hadn't mentioned what he felt much, it seemed... unfair to be caught out with a spell.Harry returned to his side, as Draco drank whatever Lotty put down. There may very well be not enough tea in this house to deal with this problem.“Y’know, people are supposed to get less dramatic as they get older.”“I’ve the worst Patronus in the world.”“Ah, yes. Much less dramatic.” Harry slid onto the chair next to him, Lotty refusing to serve him a cup. “Think you owe me a me--” Draco shoved him off his seat. Lotty watching with wide eyes. But smiling all the same.“Hush. Not for the ears of house-elves.”Harry rubbed at his side. Lotty left with a pop.”I hope that lesson a year ago will prevent you from putting my house on fire.”Ha, did Potter really think he went once or twice?That bloody pest Neville practically pulled him into all kinds of nonsense. Draco had a suspicion he had wanted to learn and needed an excuse to have someone go with him. Draco baked a cake.A cake.Like a Muggle.It tasted like flour.“Oh, you’re going to regret bringing that bet up.”Draco left to Harry’s, ignoring the bubbling excitement. Cool and calm. He pretended to be unaware of what an oven was, what the cooker was, what the knobs on the side did. Harry was going to lose. Proper. Actually lose. To him. Oh, this was going to be so good. Finally.So, Draco cooked in secret, Harry being shooed away – Draco’s wand in hand in case he cheated – and set to it. An hour later, never mind the questions coming through the door on if he was fine or not--“I’m just perfect.” He grinned at the defeated slump of Harry Potter after he took his first bite. “Humble too. Alright. So, what’d want?”“To borrow your Cloak for a while.”“Really?”Harry returned, pleased and wrapped it around his shoulders. Draco took to slipping his legs under the cloak while he sat, seeing them and not. This was a good day. This was the best day. A win over Potter and being able to use a cloak that Death had no chance of stealing back? “Never thought I’d see you fangirl over something.”Fan, he understood. Girl he understood. Together it seemed off. “I don’t know what that means.” Perhaps something bad with how pinched Harry’s expression became, how he huffed and sighed.“Just no mentioning this to anyone, ever.”Why not? Draco nodded as he watched his legs disappear again. Definitely cool. How Harry got anything done in Hogwarts was a mystery. This was a distraction. Out of the cloak his leg was there, his body there, and under, even with his own eyes. Gone. Nothing. Would the wards know he was still here? Could he apparate into a place with this despite being barred?“I understand. They’ll get jealous.” Was this longer? Or did it seem like it because he was sitting? It seemed to cover all of him, draped and perfect to keep him from harm.“Sure. Let’s go with that.”Harry paid attention to the dog that sat watching as some of Draco appeared and reappeared. He hid under it fully a few times till Harry spoke up, “Still there?”“Still here.”Underneath the cloak, he watched Harry. Curious to see if he could tell he had his attention. Nothing said he did. He just spoke nonsense to the dog, one which as much as it liked him... It gave him eyes that stared too much, too focused a look for some Muggle animal.He grinned behind the barrier, too pleased to say anything.Harry ruffled its ears in a similar manner Draco did to the crup, spoke in a high-pitched tone that Draco was wholly unfamiliar with. “He’s so cute, isn’t he?” Dogs were strange. “So, cute.”He’d thought Aurora was a girl’s name. Draco went back to dangling his legs from under the cloak, basking in his victory.