Chapter 1: The Cottage (Harry)
Chapter Text
September 2001
“Good evening, Harry. Fine day, fine day. Garden looks top-notch. You’re putting the rest of us to shame,” John Hurley said as he strolled through his side garden. An almost falling-down fence covered in pink climbing roses separated the two cottages. An old apple tree on Harry’s side of the fence, heavy with fruit, provided more privacy.
“Ah, I need something to keep me busy until school starts in a few weeks. I’ll be digging up the irises to divide soon. Would you like some?”
“Of course. Janie will be excited. She especially likes the soft peach-coloured ones, and I was quite fond of the purple.”
“No problem. I’ll set some aside,” Harry said and then nodded as John Hurley thanked him and made his way into his home.
Harry promptly returned to his clipping of the climbing dead roses, encouraging another round of blooms before autumn. A once stray tuxedo tom cat was circling his legs. The rest of the garden he would tackle tomorrow when his neighbours were at work. Then he’d feel more at ease in using some magic to do the weeding between the late summer and early autumn perennials and harvesting of vegetables. But he didn’t mind gardening this way. It felt more productive and gave him a sense of accomplishment. As much as he tried to forget his horrid childhood on Privet Drive, there were life skills he’d learned: cooking, gardening, and cleaning. When forced to do them for someone else they were a burden, but for his own home, for his own upkeep, they were skills he embraced.
He could’ve stayed living at 12 Grimmauld Place. It was the prudent thing to do as anyone with an opinion told him, which meant everyone, but he didn’t want to anymore…or at least for now whilst he was at the University. After this year, then he’d move onto the castle up north to start his professorship career. It’s not like he abandoned the House of Black. Ron and Hermione were living there now. It had been painstakingly remodelled and professionally decorated without destroying the gothic revival feel over the past three years. He wasn’t sure anything could destroy the gothic feel. It was spelled into the beams, the dark floors, and the walls, the magical architect told him. But after his first year at the University, he wanted to live somewhere else. A place that wasn’t tied to a name. A place that had God damn electricity, so he didn’t have to spend time at the university library typing up his coursework. If he was going to get his magical teaching degree this year, a new requirement for Hogwarts professors, then he was going to make it easier upon himself. And as cool as being magical was, it had its drawbacks. Writing on parchment with ink and quill was not what a Muggle or even magical professor wanted. Especially when it would be five feet long rolled up in a scroll.
Myrddin College was the largest of the magical colleges in Britain, but it was one of the smallest population-wise compared to most of Oxford’s thirty-nine Muggle Colleges. Minerva McGonagall had attended and received her teaching degree specialising in Transfiguration from Myrddin. And her framed certificate hung proudly in the Headmistress’ office at Hogwarts. She felt it was a shame that only three other current professors had their degrees: Flitwick, Sprout and Sinistra. Myrddin College opened in the 10th Century when Oxford was founded. It was visible to Muggles at the time and was quite controversial as it allowed women to study and be degreed. Within two centuries, it disappeared into newer buildings, and by the 14th century, all mention of it had been removed from historical books. But it survived, hidden from those who would destroy it and those who walked near its halls.
The summer after the Battle at Hogwarts, she resumed her stewardship as Headmistress and decreed that all entering Hogwarts Professors of Magic would hold at minimum a teaching degree in their specialty. It was a three-year programme. There would be no more Snapes, Umbridges, Lockharts, Trelawneys, or Binns. It was her desire that all students, no matter their house, deserved a quality education.
So that is how Harry Potter turned up living on Old High Street in Old Headington, near the John Radcliffe Hospital and a close-enough walk to Oxford University. The cottage he bought on a whim after taking a quick walk-through and visit to the back garden. The classic stone two-story dwelling called to him, along with the now neutered but still frisky cat named Scamp. He was happily puttering in the back garden with gloves and shears whilst his wand was more than likely upstairs lying on his bedside table. He glanced at his watch Molly had given him for his coming-of-age birthday. Somehow, it survived the war. It was five o’clock, and he was due to meet his old classmates at six. It was a Thursday night thing, so nobody’s weekends were affected. A few pints with dinner and back home by nine…sometimes ten. It all depended on who showed up and where the conversation had meandered. Harry usually arrived a bit early to grab the corner table and have a few minutes to chat with Hannah and Neville if he was there.
“Oi, Harry! Over here, mate,” Ron said whilst standing and waving from the largest table available in the Leaky Cauldron. Harry nodded and made his way over. Their usual table in the corner sat six to eight people made up of a mix of all the houses when Blaise showed up…sometimes with Pansy. Ron procuring this one meant it was going to be a large crowd, and that meant going home at ten.
“Who else is coming?” Harry asked and then noticed that there were already pitchers of a variety of beers lined up in the middle of the table and not the cheap ones. “And the better question is, who is buying?”
“Malfoy,” Ron said. Harry’s eyebrows raised. “Hannah just told me that the bastard pulled off twelve NEWTs.”
“Fuuuck, does Hermione know?”
Ron put his hand over his mouth to hide the laugh.
“Guess we now know what he did during home confinement the last two years,” Harry added. He had to admit, it was pretty impressive. Even after testifying for Malfoy, he still got one year in Azkaban, followed by two years of home confinement with limited use of magic. It sounded rough, but it was the lightest sentence given for any of the branded Death Eaters or followers that fully supported Voldemort. “Oh yeah, he could only use magic for school or professional purposes approved by the Ministry. What’s he going to do now?”
“Dunno,” Ron said and then stepped back as platters of chips landed on the table along with bottles of ketchup and malt vinegar.
“Going to university,” a voice behind Harry drawled. A voice Harry hadn’t heard for three years. He spun around. Malfoy, dressed in jeans and a grey jumper, hair styled severely short, was walking towards him and Ron. It took Harry a moment to adjust this version of Draco with the pale, despondent one he last saw at his trial. Draco had his hand out and a smile that Harry was sure he’d have to have practised in the mirror because it actually looked genuine. “Potter, Weasley, appreciate you claiming the table. I was held up at the Ministry. You know them having to get their last digs in before signing the papers, setting me completely free. Potter, thanks again for your testimony.”
Harry did shake his hand and mumbled something to the effect of “Yeah, sure, congratulations. Ministry can be a bit of a bugbear.” He couldn’t have told you what Malfoy’s hand felt like besides having a decent grip and that he didn’t try to break any bones. Ron shook his hand, too, but then withdrew, staring at his own hand in amazement.
“Food will be coming out soon. I do hope the others will be coming; otherwise, you might be overrun by my old housemates,” Draco said as he walked around the table, methodically counting the seats available and poured himself a pint. “Go ahead. It’s actually the good stuff. I’m sure it will help the awkwardness.”
“Yeah, right, might help,” Harry said. He was about to ask Draco which university when the door opened, and the crowd poured in. It became obvious that only Ron, Harry, and Hermione weren’t aware that Draco was being fully released from his sentence today and had received twelve NEWTs. Congratulations and handshakes were given, along with a few hugs from Pansy, Blaise, and Daphne.
“That’s Millicent, isn’t it?” Hermione asked as they sat down on the opposite end of where Draco and his friends were. “Haven’t seen her in ages. Who’s the wizard with Daphne? Looks familiar.”
Harry crooked his neck and squinted his eyes. “Think that’s Nott. Dyed his hair and grew quite a few inches,” Harry said.
“Oh, there’s Luna and Padma,” Hermione said as more Hogwarts classmates joined in. All twenty seats were filled. The only two Slytherins missing were Draco’s previous bodyguards. Harry had heard that Greg, released from Azkaban only a few months prior, had moved with his mother to Tasmania. Harry could completely understand why.
“Thanks for coming, everyone,” Harry heard Draco say in a loud voice. “As most of you know, but not all of you know, I’m going to be starting at Oxford’s Myrddin College to get my teaching degree specialising in Potions. Term begins in a few weeks. It’s going to be a big adjustment, but I wanted to thank so many of you for your support in getting me this far,” Harry glanced over to Ron and Hermione. He was met with blue and brown eyes glancing back at him questioningly. He felt like he barged into a wedding that he wasn’t invited to. “After that, I’m hoping to head back to Hogwarts and finally let Slughorn retire.”
Harry’s stomach dropped. Malfoy would not only be attending the same university as him but also heading off to Hogwarts afterwards. He didn’t think they could be in the same year, though. It would be close to impossible to study for NEWTs and complete the first two years of university from home. He knew the first thing he was going to do tomorrow was go visit McGonagall. It seemed quite intentional that she hadn’t made him be privy to this information before discussing his teaching of Defence Against the Dark Arts. “And so that is my dilemma,” Harry heard Draco say, bringing him out of his thoughts of tomorrow. A sharp kick to his shin by Hermione also helped. He looked over to her, frowning. Her eyes darted back and forth between him and Draco. It was that moment Harry saw that everyone at the table was looking directly at him expectingly, especially Malfoy.
“Well, Potter?” Pansy Parkinson said.
Harry shook his head. “Er…sorry, wasn’t listening.” A loud groan came like a wave towards him. “Sorry! But I didn’t know Malfoy was going to Oxford and then to Hogwarts. So, what’s the question?”
Even though Draco was sitting at the opposite end of the table, Harry could see his eyes flashing and his cheeks redden. He watched him take a deep breath, and Pansy’s hand came down on his, giving it a squeeze.
“He needs a place to live, Harry,” Hermione muttered under her breath as she took a sip from her butterbeer. “McGonagall wants him to live in a Muggle neighbourhood, preferably in a Muggle house.”
“Don’t worry yourself, Potter, I will find a housemate in due time,” Draco said.
“Okay, but I can help there. I know the area pretty well,” Harry responded. Before he could say anymore, Draco thanked him and said he’d stop by tomorrow afternoon for tea. The crowd seemed satisfied with Harry’s offer and turned back to discussing other things. “What did I just agree to?” Harry whispered to himself, but not quietly enough. Ron was chuckling next to him, and Hermione had her lips thinned, shaking her head.
Harry hadn’t planned on shopping or even baking the next day, but he did both after the Headmistress sent an owl declining to meet with him at the time he requested. She mentioned the following Monday would do. Any leftover Cornish fairings and chocolate biscuits from his baking that afternoon he’d bring to Ron and Hermione on Saturday. It was a habit that he’d stop by for tea or dinner on Saturday afternoons to catch up on things they couldn’t discuss in front of others during Thursday night’s pub meet. He knew this week he might be there long after dinner. He glanced at the digital clock on the counter; it was ten to three. Draco Malfoy would be at his home at three. Harry had no idea what the hell they’d talk about, but there would be tea and biscuits. The kettle clicked off, indicating the water was boiling. He’s already measured out the tea into the pot. It was one of the varieties of special blends of black tea that he’d purchased in bulk. He poured the water over the leaves and put the lid on. Hopefully, Malfoy would be on time, so it didn’t over-stew. The strainer was waiting by the cups. Before he could have another thought, Draco Malfoy appeared at the kitchen window, looking in. “He fucking Apparated here?” he mumbled to himself as he took off his apron and stepped towards the back door leading to the garden.
“Malfoy, get in here,” Harry said louder than he meant to. He took a quick scan of the neighbours’ gardens. Thankfully, no one was out. “What the hell! You can’t just Apparate into my garden,” Harry said as Draco entered into the kitchen area.
“Well, fuck, your Protection Spells bounced me out, and your Floo wouldn’t allow me entry,” Draco spat back.
Harry shook his head. “Yeah, we should’ve discussed this meeting at my place in more detail. You could’ve knocked on the front door.”
Draco snickered. “Wouldn’t have mattered if we discussed it or not, Potter. I barely remember last night. Blaise only forced me out of bed an hour ago.”
Harry felt his guard go down. Even though he hadn’t seen Malfoy in three years, he could see that he was a bit rundown. His short hair appeared a bit spiky, and his eyes a bit glazy. “Come on, sit down. I have tea and, if you like, biscuits.”
Draco’s nose twitched. “You bake?”
“I bake, cook, garden, clean, launder. Just a regular old house-elf,” Harry replied sarcastically as he set a cup of tea in front of Draco and one at his seat. A jug of milk and a small bowl of sugar cubes were added to the table along with a plate of still-warm biscuits…both kinds.
“I was going to decline the offer of biscuits, but have changed my mind,” Draco said as he picked up a fairing, setting it on the plate provided. “So, you mentioned last night that you could possibly help me find a room to stay for a year.”
“You don’t want your own flat or rent a house?” Harry asked. He couldn’t imagine Draco Malfoy living in a Muggle house with Muggles. Though his outfit of jeans, plain baby-blue t-shirt, and trainers were promising.
“Just a room for a year. I’ve had private tutors for the past two years to pass my general magical courses, which made getting my NEWTs not so strenuous. The Headmistress helped me with the university in arranging my course load schedule. This next year will be focused on my specialisation, and the required Muggle competency courses to finish up my teaching degree.”
Harry’s brow furrowed. They were in the same year. The talk with McGonagall would be longer than he first intended.
“And as for a flat or renting a cottage on my own, I honestly cannot afford it. And if I don’t find a place, I’ll be breaking my agreement with McGonagall.”
“What?” Harry said, almost spitting out his tea. His mind became fuzzy not only with what Draco was telling him, but that Draco was actually telling him. He was acting like they were old classmates that didn’t have a history. That he, Draco Malfoy, didn’t have a history.
“Oh, these are quite good, Potter,” Draco said as he took his first bite of the fairing. “Perfect amount of ginger. The ones at Hogwarts always had a bit too much.”
“Thanks?”
Draco sighed. “I know your meeting with me is challenging. It is for me, too. But I want this position at Hogwarts. It’s been my dream since we had to meet in the fifth year to discuss our futures. And after what I did and what I was convicted for, I never thought it would be possible. However, here I am, and very close to achieving it. I’m not below coming to your door grovelling for your help.”
“Why me? And if I can be nosy, why don’t you have the funds to pay for a flat? That was quite a spread you paid for last night,” Harry said.
Draco picked up a chocolate biscuit, adding it to his plate. Harry noted he’d made quick work of the fairing. “Pansy and Blaise paid for it. I’m as poor as a dormouse these days. Ministry has had a hold on our family funds for three years now. Of course, Father doesn’t need anything where he is, but Mother has quietly sold many of her personal belongings. They can’t touch the Manor itself or her dwindling Black inheritance…but most of our wealth is in the Malfoy vaults at Gringotts.”
“Any idea how much longer they’ll keep the hold?” Harry asked. He thought he was aware of the sentences given during the trials, so this piece of information was new to him.
Draco shrugged and bit into the biscuit. His eyes darted over to Harry with a questionable look. “Quite good again, Potter. Have to say, I’m surprised,” he said after swallowing the bite. “Didn’t mark you as a baker.”
Harry snickered. “Malfoy, I don’t think you marked me as anything but a…”
“Don’t say it,” Draco said emphatically, interrupting Harry. “Let me just compliment you and then you say thank you. As to the money, I’ve been told that once I’ve completed this year successfully. And, Potter, I must admit now that it wasn’t McGonagall who is requiring me to live in a Muggle neighbourhood and in a Muggle house, it is the Board of Governors…all twelve of them.”
“What? That makes no sense. I know they have the final say, but the Headmistress should have who she wants on staff if they’re qualified,” Harry said before he could comprehend that he was taking Draco’s side in this matter. Did he think Draco deserved to be back at Hogwarts influencing students? He’d also save that conversation to have with McGonagall. Draco shrugged and reached for another chocolate biscuit. He’d eaten the first two biscuits rather quickly. Harry looked at him with more intent. He looked thin; not as thin as he did at the trial, but most of the other students their year had grown even more and put on weight. “Hey, I’m going to make a sandwich. I missed lunch today, and biscuits aren’t going to be enough to tide me over until dinner. You want one? Ham, cheese, and pickles?”
Draco’s eyes brightened for a moment and then quickly resumed to dullness. “I don’t need your charity, Potter. So, no.”
“It’s called common courtesy, Malfoy. I’m making myself one, and it would be rude not to ask. I’m sure it will help with that hangover. Do you want a potion to go with it?” Harry replied and then watched Draco absentmindedly thin his lips and swallow.
“If you insist, but no pickles,” Draco huffed.
Harry chuckled and rose from the table to make the sandwiches. Like clockwork, when he opened the fridge, Scamp sauntered into the kitchen. He took a quick look at Draco, turned away, and made his way towards the backdoor. He sat perfectly still by his cat bowls nearby. “That’s Scamp. He came with the house.”
“I used to have a cat when I was young…before Hogwarts. She passed right before I left. My parents weren’t a fan of pets, so we didn’t get another one since I was at school. Of course, back then, I was upset, but I was soon thankful because the Dark Lord detested cats. I’m sure she would have become a snack for Nagini.”
Hearing Draco still refer to Voldemort as the Dark Lord reminded him quickly of who was sitting at his kitchen table. “So, tell me about the Board of Governors’ requirement that you live in a Muggle house,” Harry said, attempting to change the subject. He tossed a piece of ham to the cat, which was quickly devoured.
“They threw this requirement in about a month ago as a condition of my acceptance into teaching at Hogwarts. Once they learned about my NEWTs and McGonagall approving me for the Potions position, they wanted to be assured that I wouldn’t hex Muggle-borns or favour pureblood students,” Draco said whilst nibbling on his fourth biscuit. “Something about understanding young Muggle-borns being overwhelmed with our world, having never experienced it before. Said, this would give me empathy.”
Harry set down a plateful of sandwiches in the middle of the table, a pitcher of water, and the hangover potion that he kept in the pantry, along with a variety of others. “And how do you feel about Muggle-borns and Muggles?” he asked as he sat back down and tossed a few bags of crisps he had in his hand on the table.
Draco flinched when the question was asked but still immediately reached for a sandwich and then the potion, which he quickly drank down. After a few moments, to let the potion take its effect, Draco continued. “Potter, have you been to Azkaban?”
“No, can’t say that I have. I would have gone as part of Auror training, but I quit the programme before then.”
“I’d like to know the story behind that,” Draco said, “but the reason I’m asking if you had is because you would’ve quickly learned that a prisoner can either feel sorry for themselves and sit and stew about what they’ve lost to the point of bitterness, or they can reflect on how the hell they ended up in prison. And…and what they’d do differently if given the chance.”
“You don’t seem to be bitter,” Harry said whilst pulling a piece of ham from his sandwich to feed Scamp, now meowing at his feet.
“I’m not,” Draco said. He set down his sandwich and looked at Harry straight on. “I deserved what I got and probably deserved more. After a month of wallowing in my sorrows, my mother came to visit me and Father. Thankfully, it was separately. She gave me a lecture on resiliency and that I was being given a second chance. I was lucky, she told me. I was only in there for one year. I was young and still had a life ahead to live. And then she said that maybe I should dig down deep and explore my beliefs and feelings about others because the current ones have landed us all dead, in prison, or as outcasts.”
“And so…?” Harry asked again, recognising Draco had not answered his question. He’d have to digest what Narcissa told Draco later about their beliefs.
“And so, I contacted the Headmistress to see if the Hogwarts library had a book on magical genetics.”
Harry laughed. “Er, that can be seen as you wanting to prove blood purity is superior.”
Draco sighed as he narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “You dolt, of course I wrote a heartfelt apology and explained that I was looking for the information that would show blood purity was bollocks, which it is. If interested, I can explain the genetics of it, but that would be a rabbit hole for right now.”
“So…?”
“Fine, Potter!” Draco spat out but then released a small mischievous grin. “I was wrong. My family was wrong. I was a blood-purist snob, and I’m sorry.”
“Glad I’m sitting down,” Harry said with a hint of his own smile.
“Don’t push it, Potter. I’m still a regular snob, and you’re still a heathen.”
Harry burst out laughing and laughed harder as Draco joined him. They both stopped when Scamp jumped up on Draco’s lap and pawed at his plate. Without breaking stride, Draco took a piece of ham from his sandwich and held it above the cat’s head. The cat bopped his hand with a paw, stretched up, and ate the treat. With a few head scratches, the cat curled up on his lap and closed his eyes. “Traitor,” Harry whispered. Draco’s left eyebrow lifted.
“You referring to me or Scampire?”
“Fuck! Don’t go renaming my cat, Malfoy. And, yes, I was referring to Scamp. Though being a traitor to Voldemort, I’d view it as a good thing. But let’s not go down that rabbit hole, either. So, if you’re as poor as a dormouse, how do they expect you to rent a room?”
Draco chewed the bite he’d taken and swallowed quickly. “My mother is allowed to give me 50 pounds a week.”
Harry blinked repeatedly.
“Is that a lot or too little? I haven’t checked into the pricing, but Blaise said I could probably get a room.”
Harry sipped his tea, which was now tepid. He glanced at his cat, whose black ears and white eyebrow whiskers were all that showed above the table. He was now purring. “It could possibly be enough for a room and bills, but not food or any other activity.”
“I don’t plan on any activities.”
“I think that’s the idea, Malfoy. That you get to know Muggles, which means hanging out with them. Going to the pub or for coffee. Did you check Myrrdin housing?”
“None available. Most are reserved for international magical students, and those were taken last spring.”
“So, they want you to fail,” Harry said in a matter-of-fact tone. He regretted it the second he said it. Draco’s face fell. Harry would talk with McGonagall to confirm, but that was his guess of what was going on. Giving Draco little time to prepare for Muggle living and then too little funds to do so meant something was up.
“Do—do you think? Fuck, of course, that’s what they want me to do. Fail. Then they can’t be blamed.”
“Bingo! But let me look into the housing situation. Give me a few days. Why don’t you stop by Wednesday afternoon. I’ll open up the Floo. In the meantime, read up on Muggle appliances.”
“Any ones in particular? I did take Muggle Studies when first released. It was all book learning, though, with no tutor. But I do remember there was a whole list of appliances.”
Harry did his best to hide his amusement at the thought of Malfoy taking Muggle Studies, even if it was done alone at the Manor. “Fridges, ovens, and washer machines would be a good place to start. Also, you’re going to need a computer. Muggle and even magical professors don’t take parchment these days. The Board is going to have to allow additional funds for that expense.”
“Unless they want me to fail,” Draco said, sounding resigned to this fate.
“No despairing, yet. We’ll talk again on Wednesday. In the meantime, take some biscuits. I normally give them to Ron, but he’s getting a bit chunky.”
“I don’t believe you. Remember I saw him last night,” Draco said. “But I’ll take some anyway. Mother would enjoy them with her tea tonight.”
“Malfoy, leave the cat.”
Harry still had to take deep breaths when the gates of Hogwarts opened outside of Hogsmeade. There were all of those memories fighting for dominance in his thoughts. But he’d learned to quiet most of the bad ones and remember the good. And for the past two years, he’d visited the Headmistress or Hagrid every few months. Those days were all calm and peaceful, that was unless school was in session, and it was after lessons. He did want to come back. This was home, and it called to him with its magic.
“You may enter,” the Headmistress said before he could knock on her door. It opened as he raised his hand. “Come in, come in, Potter. Sit down and tell me what is so important that it couldn’t wait for our next scheduled meeting?” she asked as she pushed forth a plate of biscuits towards him. He instinctively took one, a Cornish fairing.
“Draco Malfoy. He came to my house on Friday for tea.”
“Oh, I wasn’t aware that the two of you spoke.”
Harry took a small bite of the fairing. Draco was right: too much ginger. A motion outside of the windows caught his eye. It was a barn owl probably on its way to the Owlery in the west tower. “First time in three years, Headmistress. Well, besides the night before when there was a celebration of his home confinement release and getting twelve NEWTs.”
“He was always a good student, Potter. Well…until.”
Harry sighed. He didn’t want to play this game with his old head of house. “Headmistress, why didn’t you tell me?”
Minerva stood from her chair and walked from behind her desk over to the windows looking out over Hogwarts grounds. The Quidditch Pitch, Harry assumed, was filling up with one of the house’s players getting an early start on practice. “I didn’t tell you, Harry, because I didn’t think he could do it.”
“But—but you mentored him. You found him tutors. You offered him the Potions Professorship.”
She spun around on her booted heel. “I didn’t. I mean, I did. I did mentor him, as you said. But it was because I promised Albus.”
“Dumbledore asked you?” Harry muttered and then glanced up at his Headmaster’s portrait. He wasn’t surprised to find him sleeping. The one who wasn’t sleeping was Severus Snape. His dark eyes were darting back and forth between the two.
“Yes, Dumbledore asked me. He said that if the boy made it through the war alive and repented in any way, I was to help him. He mentioned that Severus had told him of Draco’s dream to be the Hogwarts Potions Professor. Harry, Draco Malfoy wrote to me every week whilst he was in Azkaban. And when he was released after serving his year, he wrote me from the Manor, begging me to let him study from there and take his NEWTs. I’ve never had a student, not even Ms Granger, work as hard as he did these past two years. I—I now think he has both the potential and drive to complete what’s been set out for him this year.”
Harry snorted. “Okay. Yet, the Governors have set him up for failure.”
Minerva glared at him and then stepped quickly back to her desk, sat down, and stared at him over her glasses that had slid down her nose. “Explain to me why you think so. I know they were highly concerned with my choice.”
“They’re only allowing him to receive fifty pounds a week from Narcissa to live on. I could probably find him a room in a Muggle house, as they’ve requested, and he could pay his bills, but he’ll have no funds for food or any extras, and I do mean any. Not even a cup of coffee at Vaults and Garden by the Bodleian.”
Her frown lines deepened as she looked at Harry, then up at portraits of Dumbledore and Severus Snape. “And to put him in a Muggle house without any training or practice on how to use Muggle appliances, some of which could harm him and others if misused, sets him up even further for failure. And he’s going to need a computer. I can help him pick out the right one, but they’re expensive.”
McGonagall pursed her lips as she appeared to be deep in thought. “Well?” she yelled out. Harry jumped out of his seat, tumbling to the floor.
“Minerva,” a cracked but recognisable voice said, sending a shockwave through Harry’s body. He hadn’t heard Dumbledore speak since their meeting at Kings Cross Station. And Harry still wondered if that was real. Every time he had visited the Headmistress, Dumbledore had been fast asleep in his frame. He turned the chair upright and sat back down. “We, or should I say I? as I won’t speak for Severus, owe him this chance. I knew the strain he was under; I let it play out too long, and even then, at the end, the boy lowered his wand. He didn’t have the courage of his espoused convictions to kill me. He was going to take a chance on me and accept my giving him and his family refuge even though he thought it would be their death sentence. We must see this through, Minerva. He has called upon Hogwarts for help, and Hogwarts will respond.”
Harry stirred in his seat. That night had haunted many of his nightmares. Not being able to move or talk but still desperately trying. Harry already knew most of what Dumbledore had just said, but still, hearing it come from the source so clearly was astonishing.
“Albus, I don’t see how. The computer, I could say, had been donated…”
“No, it would be his inheritance from me,” said another voice Harry would never forget. He held on tight to the arms of the chair to stop a repeat performance of hitting the floor. He had so many questions for the man in the portrait, but the look in his eyes as he peered down at him told Harry everything he needed to know. He was still despised. “My will giving Draco my vault’s contents and a sack of a decent number of Galleons is still in my old quarters. It pains me that no one has entered my room and even looked.”
Minerva’s eyes darted towards Harry. He gave her what he hoped was an imperceptible shrug and an ‘uh oh’ expression. She gave him a wink, throwing Harry completely off. “Severus, I’ve been in your quarters, which you are already aware of, but I surely didn’t see a will. And I’m not even sure the Wizengamot would approve of Draco Malfoy receiving this inheritance.”
“Ah, but they would, Minerva” Dumbledore said. “I doubt they knew about it, and therefore didn’t include it in their restrictions of Malfoy family funds. If you find it, the Galleons could be given to the boy tonight. The will would have to be filed for him to receive anything that might be in Severus’ vault…that is…after it is searched. It could take months or even another year.”
Harry tried not to smirk at Dumbledore’s comment about the vault having to be searched. Merlin knows what Snape would have hidden at Gringotts. “I will do a thorough inspection this afternoon. It would be helpful to know where to look,” Minerva said.
“Yes, I’m sure it would,” Snape replied. “I will only say that I left it there for Draco to find, if he accomplished his dream.”
Harry rolled his eyes, recognising that Snape was still in secretive mode.
“This is all well and very good,” Dumbledore said, “but it does not solve the very valid point Harry brought up, which is that Draco Malfoy is not prepared to live with Muggles in a Muggle home with Muggle paraphernalia and such.”
“The answer is clear, Headmaster,” Severus Snape said with a deep sigh. “I believe Mr Potter has a Muggle house and a room available. And, given his inheritance from the Black family, which rightfully should’ve gone to Narcissa and Draco, it would be only just if he offered.”
“Pardon,” Harry choked out. “You want Draco Malfoy to live with me?”
The Headmistress and one of the portraits stared at him with pleading eyes. The other portrait inhabitant narrowed his. Harry rose from his seat and walked briskly over to the portraits. “Now, just one minute,” he said whilst pointing his finger at each of them in turn, touching the very paint. Snape winced; Dumbledore chuckled as if being tickled. “The last time you two conniving wizards made plans together, you both ended up dead, and I had to sacrifice my life to save everyone. And now, and now, you want me to save Draco bloody Malfoy! Again!”
“I would’ve thought by now, you would have learned better to control your emotions,” Snape said with a sneer. “Your equating of living with Draco Malfoy to dying is typical of…”
“Enough, Severus,” Dumbledore interrupted. “Harry, we are asking much of you once again. However, I find a bit of amusement in thinking of Mr Malfoy learning how to use a hoover.”
Harry sighed.
“I will contact Draco tonight to come to Hogwarts tomorrow, and together we will search for Severus’ will,” McGonagall said. “I think it is best that I explain the severity of the situation to him and that you’ve kindly offered to take him in.”
“I—I did not agree to that,” Harry said but had the feeling nobody was listening.
Chapter 2: The Roommate Arrives (Harry)
Chapter Text
From the Owlery, Harry sent a message to Ron and Hermione to come over for dinner tonight as it was urgent. After three years, the Headmistress’ office was devoid of most things that reminded him, and he guessed McGonagall too, of Dumbledore’s reign as Headmaster. That is, besides the portraits, Gryffindor Sword, and the Sorting Hat. The Owlery, though, hadn’t changed a bit. And his heart hurt. He hadn’t bought another owl since Hedwig’s senseless demise. But he knew when he came to Hogwarts next year that he would need to. It would be an owl this time and not a pet. He had a pet. Yes, an owl would be necessary to communicate with students’ parents and friends away from Hogwarts.
One of the major Muggle items he hadn’t had installed in his cottage was a telephone. His maths study group last year thought he was daft for not having one. Some were now even carrying small phones. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it, being always available. Actually, he did know, and he wanted none of it. Hermione had bought one last year while at Cambridge to keep in touch with her parents and her new Muggle friends. Sometimes, when it was just the three of them, her phone made it feel like a fourth was intervening at inappropriate times.
Harry had become accustomed to being unavailable. He and Ron and Hermione had their schedules set and there was always the ability to firecall. The one condition Hermione put down when Harry refused both owl and phone was that they all carry a fake Galleon coin that Hermione used the enhanced Protean Charm on once again. It allowed them to give the location of whoever activated it. Ron was known to use it when the others were late for pub night.
The ground floor of Harry’s cottage was typical of the era it was built in. It had a lower ceiling than he was used to, but the fully exposed beams gave it almost a rustic charm. The kitchen at the back of the house was fully functional with a fridge, oven, microwave, and other smaller appliances like a toaster and blender. The latter he bought when he went on a smoothie phase but more often than not it got used by his Muggle friends for making blended cocktails and by himself for milkshakes. He kept the dated cabinets, painting them white. The only major upgrade was the countertop. No amount of scrubbing, Muggle or magical, could clean the grout. He settled on the continuous smooth look of granite, white with shocks of grey. It went well with the light grey paint on the walls. The dining room was larger than he needed, but it was used by his study group to spread papers about. He shrunk it when it was just him and Ron and Hermione.
The living room and study with a loo nearby were at the front of the house. The living room was his favourite room. The windows looked out onto the street. He felt part of the world, but didn’t have to join in. The stone fireplace with its solid beam mantelpiece, was the only piece in the cottage that had magic attached to it. It had been a struggle to get approval from the Floo Network, but sometimes celebrity had its benefits. It was always nice to have a friend tumble into his living room that everyone described as being ridiculously cosy with its sofas and blankets and overstuffed chairs.
“Wait, what? No way would you and ferret survive living together,” Ron burst out when Harry told him what had happened earlier in the day at Hogwarts. Harry immediately felt better having his best friend understand how barmy the situation was. That is until he looked over at Hermione.
“Come on, Hermione. It’s Draco Malfoy. They want Harry to take him in,” Ron said, recognising the same look on her face that Harry did.
“I know. And it is too much to ask of Harry, but what will Malfoy do otherwise?”
“That’s not Harry’s problem. Maybe he can find a room for him tomorrow.” Hermione rolled her eyes. Harry knew at that moment that he was going to have to invite Draco Malfoy to live with him. Hermione understood what uni life was like. What it took to keep the Statute of Secrecy intact, even though they’d grown up exclusively with non-magical families and friends. Draco Malfoy, despite all the hard work he’d put in the past two years, would fail miserably.
“Bloody hell, you’re going to do it,” Ron said, whilst shaking his head. “Going to save his skinny arse again.”
Harry sighed deeply. “Think so, mate. Think so.”
“But you’ll have rules. No loud parties, no girls overnight,” Hermione said.
“Hermione, I can’t ask him to abide by different rules than I live by.”
“You don’t have girls overnight,” Ron said with a snicker. Harry gave him a side-eye glance. “Are you going to tell him then?”
“Of course, he is,” Hermione said. “It’s nothing he should be ashamed of but it’s best to find out now how Malfoy would react.”
Harry sighed deeply again. “I’ll tell him. Maybe if he’s homophobic about gays then he’ll turn me down flat and it won’t be my fault.”
“Yes, Harry, he found the will and sack of Galleons within five minutes. He took one walk around the perimeter of the room, walked over to the bookcase, pulled out a Divination book: Broken Balls: When Fortunes Turn Foul. Draco said it would have caught his eye whether he was looking for the will or not as it was his copy that he leant to Severus. I believe it was a private joke between the two. Once he pulled the book fully off the shelf, then a nearby portrait of Salazar Slytherin swung open revealing a small cupboard. There were 750 Galleons in the sack and the will giving him rights to the contents in Severus’ Gringotts’ vault.”
Harry did a quick mental calculation of the exchange rate of five pounds to a Galleon. Malfoy would have enough for the computer and school supplies, along with enough to have spending money for the school year if he was frugal enough. Harry also calculated in him helping to pay for groceries. “And how did he react when you told him about the living arrangements?” Harry asked the Headmistresses head in his fireplace.
“He put up a fuss saying he could do it on his own, but Severus cut in and told him to accept the offer at hand and that he and you might as well start learning how to get along given you both are likely to spend the next fifty years together at Hogwarts.” Harry’s stomach turned abruptly. He swallowed hard to keep the bile down. He really hadn’t thought that far out. “He’ll be coming to your place on Wednesday afternoon as you’d planned. Good luck, Harry,” she said with finality and ended the firecall.
Not that the third bedroom needed cleaning, but Harry did it anyway. It was the larger of the two guest rooms and had its own small ensuite attached. No bath, but an adequate shower. However, more importantly, the second bedroom room was closer to his, which was fully furnished and decorated for Teddy. That would be another point of discussion he would have to have with Malfoy, along with Andromeda. He lamented that Ron and Hermione would no longer be able to stay over for a lazy weekend. Those had been therapeutic for all of them, especially early after the war. Then they visited Grimmauld. Now Harry would be visiting them at Grimmauld…that is when he felt comfortable enough to leave his house in Draco’s hands. He most certainly would be taking Scamp with him, despite Crookshanks’ distaste for the adopted cat.
At least Malfoy would have some money after buying the necessities. If all went well, he would be back in the upper stratosphere of Galleons owned by any magical person in Britain by early next summer. And then…and then out of Harry’s cottage. The sound of the fireplace roaring downstairs brought him out of his fond thoughts of next summer. He took one final glance around the minimally furnished room and then went to the stairs. He came to an abrupt stop at the bottom step seeing Draco Malfoy in simple black wizarding robes bent over petting Scamp who was circling his dragonhide booted feet. There was a large, wheeled trunk next to him. Draco Malfoy was moving in.
“Hi sweetheart,” Draco said with a teasing lighter tone than Harry had ever heard come from him before. For a flash of a moment, he thought Draco was talking to him, but in the nick of time, he stopped his instinctual retort when he realised it was directed towards the cat. His traitorous cat.
“Malfoy,” Harry said, almost out of breath.
Draco rose to his full height. Harry noticed him clenching the handle of the trunk. “Potter.”
Harry was sure he should say something else, but words were failing him. It was one thing to think about Malfoy living with him, it was another seeing him standing in his living room.
The corner of Draco’s upper lip quirked up. “Maybe it would be best if you could show me my quarters and then chat. I’m sure there are some rules and regulations for you taking me in.”
“Yeah, sure. Come on up.”
“Can I use magic in the house?” Draco asked as he wheeled his trunk over to the stairs against the far wall.
“Of course,” Harry responded. “If it’s just you and me or our other magical friends it’s fine. But there’s some items, which I’ll explain later, that don’t take kindly to having spells cast upon them,” Harry added as he climbed back up the stairs. Draco followed with his trunk floating haphazardly behind. “My room is to the right,” Harry pointed out. The door was closed. “The next room is Teddy’s and there’s a bathroom we share inbetween the two.”
“Teddy Lupin?”
“Yes. He’s my godson and I sometimes take him for a weekend to give Andromeda a break.”
“Is this going to be an issue for my aunt? Having me here,” Draco asked as they both came to a stop in front of Teddy’s room. It had a carved teddy bear with his name engraved on it attached to the door.
Harry held Draco’s questioning gaze. “I don’t know, Malfoy. This all happened so fast, I haven’t had a chance to run it by her. Will it be a problem for you?”
“No. Not a problem for me. I should tell you though, my mother did reach out to her sister a few times over the past three years but didn’t receive a reply.”
“Ah, thanks for letting me know. Maybe with some luck, we can stop the Black family feud. Doesn’t seem quite fair that Teddy has to uphold what happened thirty odd years ago.” Harry saw Draco’s brow furrow. “Come on, let me show you to your room. It’s here at the end of the hall on the left.
Harry turned the glass doorknob. He’d been told by the estate agent that the key for the lock on the door had been lost decades ago. “You’ll have a view of the street. It usually doesn’t get too loud around here.”
Draco stepped into the room; his floating trunk landed with a bang near the dresser on the left wall. The queen size bed with an antique carved wooden headboard that matched the dresser and bedside tables was against the right wall. A simpler desk was in front of the windows. “Loo is to right of the dresser, wardrobe to the left.”
Draco opened each of the doors peeking in. He turned to Harry and shook his head. “Potter, this is more than adequate. Much more than I expected. Thank you. I’m not sure what else to say.”
Harry stood in the doorway. He stepped to the side as Scamp padded into the room, walked across the wood floor, and pounced onto what was now Draco’s bed. Draco looked at the cat and then back over to Harry and chuckled. “Do you want me to keep him out?”
“No, Scamp is free to roam the house and yard. However, Malfoy, if he comes in at night, keep the door cracked open, otherwise he’ll relieve himself somewhere you won’t like.”
Draco laughed. “You say that as if you’ve had experience.” Harry raised both eyebrows.
“Also, I should warn you that you’ll want to close the curtains at night. The streetlamp’s light shines through the windows.”
Draco walked over to the three windows and looked up and down Old High Street. “I’d be more concerned about the neighbours across the way seeing in, but I prefer sleeping with light in the room.”
Something in Draco’s tone stirred Harry. Then his remembrance of being in the closet under the stairs, sometimes locked in and it would be pitch black at night. He imagined Azkaban could’ve been the same. “Malfoy, hold on for a minute, let me get something from Teddy’s room,” Harry said. He walked back to Teddy’s room and opened the door. In the small bedside table drawer was a collection of nightlights Teddy liked. The collection had grown the past year. Harry picked out the two fake plastic candles that Teddy rarely used.
“Here, try these,” Harry said as he walked into Malfoy’s room. He plugged one candle into the electrical socket near the bed. The second one on the other side of the room near the loo door. They briefly flashed on before going dark.
“What are those?” Draco asked.
“Nightlights. When the room starts getting dark, they’ll come on. They give just enough light to see around you. If it’s not bright enough then open the curtains,” Harry said. “There should be another one already in the loo. Hermione added it so the bathroom light didn’t wake up Ron when they stayed here.”
“Do I need to change the sheets?” Draco asked with a grin.
“Nah, I burned them. The ones on the bed are new and freshly washed. If you brought your own, that’s fine. Just fold these ones up and put them in the airing cupboard in the hallway. It’s the other door on the left side.”
“It’s fine, Potter. I might have forgotten to bring sheets with me. I packed at the last moment. I was sure there’d be another owl coming telling me that this was all a joke.”
“Malfoy. Shit, I wouldn’t have done that.”
Draco walked over to the bed and sat down on the denim blue duvet. He petted Scamp who leaned into his hand, waiting for more. “Potter, I think I’ll unpack now and get acclimated to the room. Can I meet you downstairs in an hour?”
“Sure. I’ll put on the kettle for tea. But just one thing for now. Don’t use magic in the loo. Physically use the sink and shower handles and toilet flush. And never stick anything into an electrical socket but a plug. It could be deadly.” Draco gave him a worried look. “Sockets are what I plugged the nightlight into.”
Draco’s face relaxed. “Okay, good to know.”
“I’ll leave you now,” Harry said. “I figured we’d eat in today. We can start adventuring out of the cottage tomorrow.” Draco’s face went ashen. Harry stepped out of the room and closed the door far enough to leave a crack open for Scamp. As he wandered down the stairs and into the kitchen his mind was replaying what just happened upstairs. Draco didn’t believe this was going to happen. He was scared of what was around him. Harry couldn’t fathom that Draco didn’t know what a plug socket was, but then again Harry at eleven couldn’t fathom that magic existed. And while there were magical things to be wary of…so many lethal like trolls in the bathroom and plants that could strangle you, there was pure joy in so many of the discoveries. He smiled to himself as he opened the fridge to decide what they would have with the tea; he now had a plan…a goal. He was going to teach Draco Malfoy, a wizard pureblood snob, to fall in love with Muggles and their world.
Harry thinned his lips as Draco entered the kitchen. The wizarding robes were gone but had been replaced by a pair of smart black trousers that looked like they were part of a three-piece suit, paired with a Weird Sisters t-shirt and shined loafers. Someone else must have dressed him for the celebration at the Leaky and his visit last Friday. They were truly going to have to start from scratch. “Go ahead and sit. I made a pot of Earl Grey if that’s okay. I reheated some cheese scones from yesterday, if you’d like some,” Harry said as he lifted a plate out of the microwave.
“I wouldn’t turn one or two down,” Draco responded.
Harry brought the hot plate over to the table. “They’ll need a few minutes to cool,” Harry said as he poured tea for both of them in white mugs with the Oxford blue coat of arms on them. “I—I’m not sure where we should start, but there is one thing about me that I need to share with you. It might affect whether you even want to stay here or not.”
Draco furrowed his brow heavily. Giving Harry a look as to what could be so bad that he’d want to leave. “You’re a werewolf,” Draco said. “That’s why you left the Auror programme. If so, you should know I brew a top notch Wolfsbane.”
Harry barked out a laugh. “No, I’m not a werewolf.”
“Good, but even then, I doubt I’d want to leave. Vampire? No, you’ve got too much colour. Terminal disease?”
“Stop, Malfoy,” Harry said with another laugh. “No, none of those. I’m gay and once in a while I’ll have a friend over.”
Draco burst out laughing, putting Harry off guard. Harry was about to tell him off, but Draco raised his hand to stop him. “No, it’s fine, Potter. I don’t care who you get off with. It might be the only other thing we have in common besides both of us getting our teaching degrees for Hogwarts.”
Harry was speechless. This was one result he hadn’t considered.
“Do you have a boyfriend then?” Draco asked.
“Uh, no. Did for a bit last year but didn’t last too long. You?”
Draco made a choking sound and then coughed. He took a sip of tea. “No. Choices were limited in Azkaban, not that I didn’t have offers, but let’s just say they held no appeal. And—and at the Manor, it was just mother and me along with some very ancient instructors. I was sure McGonagall raised a few from the dead.”
Whilst Harry knew Malfoy Manor was grand in space and rooms, he’d never really thought about what home confinement really meant. And to have most interactions be with only ancient witches and wizards sounded god-awful. “Okay, then. For possible future encounters, I only ask that they are adequately dressed outside of your room. Oh, don’t look at me like that. It’s just I have study groups, and Teddy.”
“That’s fine, Potter. I’m pretty sure there won’t be any future encounters. As it stands now, I haven’t had the time nor the opportunity to have a paramour.”
Harry refrained from rolling his eyes. The formality of Malfoy’s speech, which came naturally to him, would take some time getting used to. “Well never say never, there’s loads of cute guys at our college, and across the Uni more generally.” Draco choked again, sputtering out a sip of tea. He grabbed for the serviette and cleaned up the spray of spots on the table. “What?” Harry asked, not understanding Draco’s response. “Is it because they’re Muggles at the Uni? No one said you have to marry one.”
Draco played with the serviette turning and twisting it. “No…yes…shit,” he stuttered. “It’s not because they are Muggles per se, it’s because they are Muggles.”
“Makes perfect sense,” Harry retorted. He could feel a tinge of being pissed off at Malfoy for his prejudices wash over him. Draco sighed…heavily. He picked up a scone and set it on his plate and began toying with the crumbs. Harry could tell that he was trying to avoid looking at him. “Just spit it out. We’ll deal with what it is after you’ve said it,” Harry said.
“Fine!” Draco said and finally looked up at Harry. What was reflected in the grey eyes is not what he expected. He expected defiance, superiority, or maybe some old-fashioned fire and fury but not this…not fear. “Potter, my whole life, and I do mean my whole life, I’ve never stepped into a Muggle home until yours. I’ve never walked on a Muggle street or been around any of them…ever. I was raised, as you know, believing we were better than Muggles, but also that they hated us and would kill us if given the chance. The closest I ever got was to one was when the parents of Muggle-borns visited Diagon Alley, and even then, my father kept me a good distance away. Now, whilst I don’t hold the prejudice against them in thinking that they’re below us, I don’t know them or their ways or how they think…at all. I watched the Muggle-borns at Hogwarts and in Azkaban. Seeing what was different. Which turned out to be their customs, their casualness, their disregard of traditions. And…and now here I am. I am the other.”
“Fuck, Malfoy! Didn’t you travel with your parents when young? You never stepped outside the Leaky Cauldron door onto Charing Cross? You must’ve gone into town near your house or seen them at Stonehenge.” Draco shook his head.
“We did travel, but only to exclusive wizarding villages and establishments. Usually, it was to a family member’s chateau in France or a wizarding resort. Though, one time we did go to the Alps, but even then, it was a small magical community. I’ve never set foot in the village near the Manor but, yes, I have been to Stonehenge. You’re right, I’d forgotten about that. The Dark Lord sent me with the werewolf to spy on the Muggles. Greyback brought back a souvenir, who I never saw again after that night.”
Harry shook his head. He didn’t even know that wizarding resorts existed. He couldn’t fathom that Malfoy had been so isolated, sequestered, from the rest of the world. Even though he vehemently disagreed with the means of what Board of Governors was doing, it was the right thing to do. To expose one Draco Malfoy to the Muggle world. “Well, that explains your outfit,” Harry said with a wink to lighten the mood. Draco stuck his tongue out at him; Harry snickered. “Let’s just have our tea and then we’ll start with your wardrobe. I hadn’t figured that part into your finances. And by the way, there’s plenty of Muggles that come from old money and live in manors. You might have more in common than you think.”
Draco ate the scone and sipped his tea in silence. His eyes focused on the kitchen and its appliances. “That’s a hob, which you know we have too. I assume it just works differently.”
“Yes, they generally come in two varieties. One, like mine that heats with electricity, and others by gas.”
“Electricity. I read about that in the Muggle studies book. It’s kind of like magic, isn’t it? I mean it’s how most Muggles run their homes and buildings for lights and such.”
“Yes. I mean without getting into how electricity works, you could think of it that way. It flows through wires. And the natural gas through pipes. Both can also be deadly in certain situations, which I’ll tell you how to avoid.”
Draco looked over to him and nodded. “That would be beneficial. I’m still proud enough of being a wizard that I don’t care to expire by Muggle means. And that box thing? The one you took the scones out of.”
“Microwave,” Harry said. “It’s used to cook things quickly. But I mainly use it to reheat food and to pop popcorn. That’s a fridge, which keeps food cold, so it doesn’t go bad. It’s the equivalent to our cold cabinets. This one, though, also has a freezer, which keeps foods frozen for long periods of time. Some kitchens have a dishwasher, but I don’t. When I clean dishes, I use soap and hot water and put them on that rack to dry.”
Draco frowned. “Why? I mean why not a good Scourgify.
“Dunno. It’s just I feel that they’re cleaner washing them by hand. You can do what you want but obviously with Muggle guests, you’ll need to wash by hand. But the hob, the oven, microwave, and other small appliances,” Harry said, pointing at the blender and toaster, “you should never use magic to operate them.”
“And you’ll educate me?”
“And I’ll teach you.”
“Blaise gave me most of these. He’s into Muggle fashions now. His mother has always exposed him to the Muggle world, and over the past three years, while I’ve been unavailable, he delved into the community more. I have no idea if they’re adequate or not, but he said they were a little small or not his style anymore.”
Harry looked through the piles of clothes spread out on Draco’s bed. He needn’t have worried about Draco having to buy clothes. One Blaise Zabini was looking out for his friend. There were at least a dozen jumpers, all nicer than Harry’s. Jeans and trousers, of a variety of different styles, along with a few pairs of shorts. And the shirts, t-shirts and knitwear were all current. As far as Harry could tell, the only items Draco would need would be a few pairs of shoes, including some decent trainers. “I should mention that there is a dress code for when taking exams and other formal events, but these are all fine for every day. They’re great. We’ll just work on putting them together properly.” Harry smiled internally as he saw a look of relief wash over Draco’s face. “And, yes, I use magic to fold my clothes and put them in the dresser or hang the nicer ones in the wardrobe.”
“So, you’re not a complete heathen,” Draco said smugly but with an uptick of the corner of his mouth. “Vincent just left a pile by the bed, no matter how dirty they were. One of us would finally give in and toss them in the hamper.”
“I’m afraid I was the messy one in my dorm,” Harry said. “Though mainly it was just my robes. My trunk was always a disaster. Anyway, you’re good with colour, so I suggest putting the jeans and khakis in one drawer, t-shirts, and knitwear in another. You can’t go wrong with either. Trousers and shirts in the wardrobe. And jumpers wherever you want. For shoes it doesn’t matter much. Everyday shoes and trainers can be in the same place as your dress shoes and dragonskin boots, which most Muggles think is snakeskin. I’d save those for fancier occasions. If you need more space, then feel free to expand the wardrobe and dresser.”
“And all your potions and lotions that are magical, put in the medicine cabinet and lock it magically. It’s probably overboard, but if you have Muggles over to study or whatever and they’re in this room, you don’t have to panic about them finding anything.”
Draco stood next to Harry taking in every word. As Harry carried on, dresser drawers were being opened and clothes arranged as Harry recommended. “And my robes and other wizarding attire?” Draco asked.
“Ugh, just put a Notice-Me-Not on the drawer you use for them and in the wardrobe. I suppose you could do that for the potions, too. That’s what I do for the few I have stored in the pantry, but, for my bathroom, I keep them locked because I don’t want Teddy getting into them. We do share the same loo.”
Harry stayed in the room as Draco finished with the task of putting away and spelling the clothes and bathroom items. He admired the smoothness of Draco’s wand movements, but the results were not as Harry would have expected. It often took Draco a few tries to get the clothes exactly where he wanted them to go. Still, it was better than the way he did it. Harry’s clothes practically flew into the drawers, and they weren’t always folded so nicely.
“Is there anything else in my room I should do or not do?” Draco asked when completed.
Harry looked around, seeing how sparse the room truly was. “You can do what you want. Add some shelves, put up posters, paint it another colour. I’ve added some Muggle plants and a radio to mine. The radio is like WWN but a thousand times better. That is if you like listening to music or discussions about British politics and world events. It needs to be plugged in. Teddy has a telly in his. I restrict its use but on rainy weekends it can be fun to snuggle and watch cartoons together.”
“Um, Potter, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I do know what a telly is, from the book, but have never physically seen one.”
“Right. Okay, we’ll get to that later because I might lose you for the day. Why don’t we stay with clothes and move onto how to keep them clean with a washer and dryer because you and I both know cleaning them consistently with magic can tear the fabric and doesn’t always get rid of the smell.”
Draco nodded. “Agree. The house-elves did much of ours by hand. But, Potter,” Draco said as he walked back over to the bed, sat down, and petted the now sleeping cat, “What can I do to repay you for this. I mean next year, I’ll have money, but this…this is way more than I expected from you.”
“Maybe I should sit down, too,” Harry said. “Comments like that make me woozy.”
“Well, wouldn’t want Potter to get woozy, take the chair,” Draco said, pointing to the desk chair. “And, Potter, I have right of refusal if there is something you’d like in repayment.”
Harry turned the desk chair around and sat. It was quite comfortable. Hermione had bought an ergonomically correct one for the times she needed to keep working but wanted to stay the weekend with Ron and him. “Sure, but I see this as more tit-for-tat. You, and a few others, ridiculed me for not knowing certain things about the wizarding community and traditions. I think you know by now; I was raised by my mother’s sister’s family. A purely Muggle family. I didn’t know I was a wizard until my eleventh.”
“I heard rumours,” Draco replied.
“Well, without delving into the blood purity and superiority realm of your upbringing, I want to know what I missed by not being raised by my parents in the magical community.” Draco stopped petting the cat. He looked dumbfounded. “I know we had magical history at Hogwarts, but it was wasted on me. I only remembered what I had to before an exam and then quickly forgot it.”
“It was horribly boring, Potter, no need to explain. But do go on, I’m intrigued.”
Malfoy’s encouragement sparked Harry to say more than he intended but he couldn’t stop the words from flowing. “My mum, I’m sure, would have made sure I understood Muggles. But, Malfoy, my father’s family was quite well off and he was an only child. I’m sure he would’ve raised me as a proud and knowledgeable wizard…probably a bit spoiled. You and I would still have been on differing sides at school and in the war, but it’s likely we would have had a lot in common.”
“Potter, I don’t mean this disparagingly, but couldn’t Weasley help you with some of this?”
Harry turned in the swivel chair to look out the window to gather his thoughts. Draco kept his silence. Finally, he turned back to face Malfoy. “Yes, and he has. The whole family has. But, despite them being purebloods, they were ostracised for their acceptance of Muggle-borns and half-bloods. I believe many traditions they dropped in protest. If Sirius had lived, I’m sure he would’ve done what my father couldn’t. I just think, if I’m going to be a professor at a magical school, I should know more. I should understand and be able to empathise with those that have never seen a Muggle or been on a Muggle street.”
Despite Draco trying to keep a stoic face at Harry’s revelation, a genuine smile escaped.
“Tomorrow, we’ll just walk the neighbourhood,” Harry said as he turned on the radio on the kitchen counter and then sat down at the table for dinner. It had been a long afternoon showing Draco how to use the washer and dryer. Draco had been taking notes, but then Harry knew that for now, he’d need more guidance. He brought out a pack of yellow post-it notes and had Draco label the knobs, the setting to use, the amount of washing liquid, etc… The microwave thankfully had its own buttons for most things Draco would want to cook or heat up. But Harry did have him add a sign that said, ‘No Metal!’ For now, Draco was just staring at the radio. Three Doors Down was playing. He startled when the DJs voice came over the waves. “I don’t know what music you like, but you’ll be able to find a station for it no matter what,” Harry said. Draco brought a spoonful of the vegetable soup to his mouth without looking. It dribbled down his Weird Sisters t-shirt and onto his jeans.
“Malfoy,” Harry said, startling Draco. He lowered his spoon and cleaned up his mess with a spell. “I can turn it off, if it’s bothering you.”
“No, no. I –I know you said it was like WWN but I thought you were exaggerating.”
“It’s better. Come here,” Harry said as he stood and walked over to the radio. Draco pushed back his chair and joined Harry where he was standing. “Now this is an older radio. Some have buttons and you can set the stations you like, but this one is simple, one knob for volume and one for switching the stations. Go ahead turn the station knob.”
Harry moved to the side, giving Draco full access to the old carved wooden cased radio. He’d picked it up at a car boot sale and brought it home to polish it up. Arthur helped with the full restoration. He held any comments he might have as Draco slowly turned the knob bringing in radio stations of every kind: rock music, classic, BBC-4. “There's more," Harry said after Draco tried out every station. "If we go onto long wave rather than FM you might get a football game being played in France like this.”
Draco smiled. He kept it there listening to the game. He glanced up at Harry. “Fucking amazing.”
“And we haven’t even got to the telly or computer,” Harry said. “But we’ll do the telly over the weekend. First, as I mentioned, we’ll go for a walk around the area tomorrow. Maybe, pick up a cup of coffee, or stay and drink it at the shop if you like. We’ve got two weeks to get you ready for term. While you won’t have Muggles in your classes, they will be everywhere around you.”
The following morning brought a surprise in the kitchen. A plethora of additional yellow post-it notes had been plastered all over the appliances and even the cabinets. Harry examined each one, feeling like it gave him more insight into his new roommate. He chuckled quietly at the drawer where the random kitchen utensils were kept. The note read, “WTF Ask Potter.” Harry opened it up to see the lemon zester, apple slicer, pizza cutter, potato masher, baster, and a meat pounder.
Additional notes, marking where Draco had questions on what something was and those that asked how something worked. The electric kettle would be first to be sorted followed by the cafetière. The detailed instructions on how to work the hob and oven were remarkably correct. Harry reached for a pen and added: Turn Off When Done! Harry turned when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs.
“Potter,” Draco said as he entered fully showered and dressed in jeans, a black shirt, and white trainers. Harry’s brow knitted together.
“You didn’t have those yesterday.”
“Still keeping track of me,” Draco responded with a poor attempt at a smirk. Harry sighed. “Blaise sent them to me through the Floo. I assume that was better than him owling them over.”
“Blaise Zabini just happened to have a new pair of trainers in your size?” Harry asked disbelievingly.
“Yes, we wear the same size,” Draco responded as he walked past Harry over to the bread bin and pulled out two pieces of wholewheat and popped them into the toaster, but they didn’t descend. Harry thought he looked a tad disappointed in himself.
“Not sure how you like your toast but might want to turn the level down a notch or two,” Harry said, standing in place by the electric kettle, waiting for Draco to notice the toaster wasn’t plugged in. “If you want anything more, I can scramble some eggs.”
“Yes, but I’d like a lesson on how to make them. My mother’s scrambled eggs were barely adequate. And I think it would be odd for me to rely on you to cook for me. Did you have a time you wanted to enter the Muggle world?” Draco asked.
Harry couldn’t refrain from snickering. “Was thinking around lunchtime, but if you’re up for it, we could go now and get a take-away coffee and pastry.”
“But I’m already making toast,” Draco said.
“Um, actually you’re not. Toaster needs to be plugged in. Did you unplug it last night? I usually leave it plugged in.”
Draco’s cheeks brightened a tinge of pink. “Yes. I wasn’t sure if it should stay that way. Your big appliances are all plugged in but not the smaller ones.” Harry bit the inside of his cheek, thanking Merlin that Malfoy hadn’t unplugged the fridge. Draco plugged the toaster back in and pressed the lever, which caused the toast to go down. He tried to get the toast out, burning his fingertips. As he reached for a knife, Harry stepped in.
“Stop, don’t touch the toaster with that,” Harry said as loudly and quickly as he could. Draco dropped the knife; it clanged as it bounced off the counter and onto the floor. Harry stepped over and unplugged the toaster. “Malfoy, put this down on one of your notes. The toaster stays plugged in. Except if you can’t get the toast out, then you have to unplug it if using a metal utensil to try and get it out. Metal and electricity like that will shock you bad, really bad.”
“Potter, that all doesn’t fit on a stucky.”
“Sticky. Come on, leave the bread. Let’s wander into Muggleland for some coffee and breakfast. I’ll treat in celebration of your first excursion.”
Draco glared at Harry for a moment, picked up the knife from the floor and set it into the sink. “Fine.”
Now my neighbour on this side is John Hurley. He’s a businessman but likes to putter in his back garden. Quite a friendly bloke but not overly so. Wife’s name is Janie. I don’t see her much, but she’s an admin at the University,” Harry said as they walked on the pavement past the Hurley cottage.
“And the neighbour on the other side?” Draco asked.
“Miss Trudy. She’s a retired nurse. A bit elderly and doesn’t get out much. I pick up things at the shops for her when needed or do some work in the garden if her grandkids are long before visiting. You’ll see her out in the back garden reading in the afternoons when weather permits. The rest of the homes are mainly made up of folks who work for the University or at the hospital. Only a few are rented out,” Harry said as they kept a similar pace.
“Is it safe at night? To go walking about?”
Harry stopped mid-step. “Malfoy, I don’t go anywhere outside by myself at night no matter where it is in the UK.” Draco halted his steps and glanced at Harry with a worried look. Harry shook his head and continued walking. “It’s not because of the Muggles. Until the rest of the Death Eaters are caught, I remain a wanted wizard.”
“Oh, but they could strike during the day, you know.”
“I know, but there’s safety in numbers, especially when there are Muggles. I have a good number of protection spells on the house. So far, none have been tampered with. And what I haven’t mentioned is that there are two retired Aurors who live in Old Headington. We’re going to cross the street up at the corner and then the coffee shop is on the opposite corner.”
They walked in silence and Harry slowed the pace as he noticed Draco looking around at the different houses, especially the one where a young mother was putting her baby into a pram. The mother and baby strolled the opposite way. As they came to the corner of a busy intersection, Harry put his arm out in front of Draco to get him to stop. I’ll explain the different types of crossings over breakfast,” Harry said. “But for now, we wait until the light turns green. It’s important so cars driving on the street don’t hit you if you just walk in front of them.” Draco took a step back on the pavement. Harry pressed the button to activate the pedestrian crossing.
“You know, Potter, this is rather nice walking around here. I can’t walk in Diagon Alley,” Draco said as they waited for the light to change. “I tried Hogsmeade, but I got a few frowns and heated comments. I left quickly, but in Diagon, I got hexes. And I didn’t even try Knockturn as my family is persona non grata since father testified against so many Dark Lord followers. I did try Diagon again the other day, so I could get a new wand, but never quite made it to the shop.”
Harry frowned. “What are you using now? I assume this means the Hawthorne one I returned doesn’t work.”
Before Draco could respond the light changed and started beeping. Harry looked both ways and then stepped off the pavement. Draco followed quickly to stay at Harry’s side…very close to Harry’s side. Draco flinched as a car pulled up to the traffic lights and stopped. “Fuck didn’t know they did that,” he mumbled. The corner coffee shop was light in customers as it was after the morning workers rush but before the early lunch customers would arrive. Harry opened the door to let Draco enter first. There was a slight hesitation, but he did advance far enough so Harry could move around him and go to the counter.
“Same today, Harry?” the older woman behind the counter said.
“Yeah, sure, but I’ll also be paying for my friend here. He’s my new lodger. Draco, this is Abby. Abby, this is Draco.”
“Ooh, fancy name. Did you go to that posh boarding school, too?”
“I did,” Draco responded with a small grin directed towards Harry. Harry was a bit stunned that Malfoy was engaging with the barista. “And, Abby, I’m not sure what Harry’s usual is but mine will be a large coffee, black as I like to add my own sugar and milk, and a few of those lovely looking mini quiches.”
“That’s Harry’s usual,” Abby said with a smile. “Anything else?”
Harry took a moment to recover from Draco’s polite but casual interaction with the barista and that they had another thing in common. “Yes, maybe two of the cinnamon swirls. If I remember correctly, Draco has a sweet tooth.” Harry chuckled as Draco audibly cleared his throat. “Pick a table,” Harry said as he paid for the breakfast, feeling Draco’s eyes watching every movement he made.
That Draco chose a seat by the window was one point in his favour Harry thought. If conversation lagged, they could comment on the people and cars driving by. It was also far enough away from the counter and the one other seated customer that they wouldn’t need a Silencing Charm.
“You seemed to be fine interacting with Abby,” Harry said pointedly.
“Potter, I’m used to interacting with staff of establishments, and if I must admit, it helped that there was a significant barrier between us.”
The side of Harry’s mouth quirked up. He wasn’t sure he’d ever understand how Draco Malfoy differentiated the world. “So whose wand are you using?” Harry asked again. He could foresee issues with Malfoy not having a proper working wand.
“Honestly, I don’t know,” Draco answered, whilst pouring milk and adding a few sugars to his coffee. “There were quite a few wands left behind…you know. I would’ve thought the Ministry would have taken them all to be examined and identified, but they only took a few to put into evidence.”
“That doesn’t sound right. I mean if it was a wand of someone I cared for and they died, I’d want it in remembrance. In the meantime, change of plans. We’re going to Hogsmeade. Ollivander’s assistant, which rumour has it is actually Ollivander’s son, opened a wand shop there. It’s a bit smaller, but I don’t particularly want to go to Diagon either.”
“Potter…I—I don’t have…”
Harry waved his hand to dismiss what was coming. “You know I kind of liked it when you referred to me as Harry up at the counter. Think you can keep doing that? And as to the cost, you can repay me next summer. For now, though, I need you to be able to adequately defend yourself and me if it comes down to it.”
Draco narrowed his eyes. Harry knew that Draco was playing out scenarios of when something like Harry mentioned might possibly occur. It was unlikely, but not out of the realm of possibilities. “Alright, Harry, let’s go to Hogsmeade, but can we finish breakfast first?”
Chapter Text
Draco lets Harry Side-Along him to the alley behind the Three Broomsticks. The want and the need of a decent wand overrides his feeling of dependency on Potter at the moment. He can’t quite figure out why Potter is being this way, this cordial, this concerned for him. The Headmistress stated that Potter was stubborn but was also able to see the bigger picture if presented with adequate evidence. And that he specifically dislikes authority pushing anyone around. Draco peripherally understands what she said, but a lifetime of looking out just for himself is hard to surmount.
“Ready?” Harry says to him. “Just ignore any comments. We have one mission and that’s to get you a wand.”
Draco can’t help himself. It’s been too long since he’d been in the village and able to walk around. He can feel the magic floating about him. Pleasant magic, not the depressing dank magic like in Azkaban or the stale magic at the Manor. Anytime he visited McGonagall at the castle, which was few, he had to Apparate outside of the gates. “Po—Harry, any chance we can make it two missions?”
Harry stops as they come to the edge of the cobbled street. “What would be the other?”
“Honeydukes.”
When Draco hears Harry snicker, he knows he has succeeded. “I think that’s a brilliant idea, but wand first.”
Draco straightens his shoulders, rolls his head, and cracks his neck right before stepping out onto High Street with one Harry Potter. Together they venture down the cobbled road to Ollivander’s. He’s positive by the time they exit the wand shop, there will be press and he’s sure Harry knows that, too. “Deep breaths,” he mutters to himself. Harry’s head nods in agreement and says the same.
“It’s between Honeydukes and Zonko’s, which is boarded up as George bought them out. Weasley Wizard Wheezes will be opening up a franchise there before the first Hogsmeade weekend. Ron works there now with George.”
Draco had no idea that Potter is so chatty. Draco obviously knows where Honedukes is. He didn’t know whether Harry’s always been like this or if it’s just his nerves in being around him. He briefly looks in at the Owl Post before they cross to the other side of the way. He hasn’t seen or heard an owl at Potter’s cottage. It would be nice to have one to send messages to his mother and friends, but then he guesses the Muggles would think it suspicious. He’ll ask Potter later about that. One thing he still has is the eagle owl his parents gave him when he started at Hogwarts. For now, it resides at the Manor with his mother who is still on house arrest.
“Almost there,” Harry says softly so only Draco can hear. Draco has been so lost in his thoughts that he hasn’t seen that people are starting to notice them. He gives a side-eye glance into Honeydukes as they pass the door. His mouth waters at the thought of biting into a Honeydukes best chocolate bar. A large piece of triple chocolate cake was the first thing he ate after being released from Azkaban.
“A little room, please,” Harry says as the crowd moves closer. Draco scans who's there; he doesn’t recognise anyone right away. Harry grabs his shirt sleeve and pulls him into Ollivander’s. The wizard at the counter looks up, his eyes widened, but he immediately locks the door behind them and closes the curtains with a flick of his wand.
“Good day, Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy. May I say it’s a surprise and honour to have you in my shop. What may I help you with?” The rumours that this was Ollivander’s son were likely true, Draco thinks. Besides having dark brown instead of stark white flyaway hair, they resemble each other greatly.
“Garret, Draco Malfoy needs a new wand and I request that the type not be revealed to anyone, but especially to any reporter.”
“Of course, of course. Now, Mr Malfoy, come forward young man so the wand can find you. Your last one was Hawthorn, I believe. That wood will no longer serve you properly.” Draco refrains from laughing. He’s heard the saying that the wand chooses the wizard one too many times. Whilst it might be true, Draco has found that a wizard or witch will use any damn wand available if needed.
As Draco stands at the solid oak counter, polished to a high gloss, it strikes him that whilst the shop was new, the smell was not. The scent of woods and musty air prevails. The air he can feel is thick with magic, but then there is something else. It’s light, soothing, and seems to wrap around him until no other scent except the freshness of a spring rain overwhelms him. Draco closes his eyes and breathes in deeply, taking it all in.
“What the hell…” he hears Harry say.
“Shh, shh,” Garret whispers. “It is the wand finding him and if I’m not mistaken, it will be made of vine.”
“Mr Malfoy, the wand has found you. Open your eyes.”
Draco opens his eyes and shakes his head. Before him is an eleven-inch wand, made of thin vines of different hues braided together. It is beautiful. He carefully lowers his hand to take it out of its box. The wand jumps into his hand. Draco smiles. “The core is the same. Unicorn hair.”
“Yes, the same.”
“I’m sorry,” Harry says, “but can you tell me what just happened?”
“Vine wood, Mr Potter, vine wood. When they sense their match to a wizard, they make themselves known. As my father told me more than once, notice that their owners are nearly always those witches or wizards who seek a greater purpose, who have a vision beyond the ordinary and who frequently astound those who think they know them best. Vine wands seem strongly attracted by personalities with hidden depths, and are more sensitive than any other when it comes to instantly detecting a prospective match.* This vine wand has chosen its wizard.”
Draco feels like he is floating on air as they leave the shop. He thought the feel of his Hawthorn wand could never be matched, but now he knows that it had only been the right wand for his childhood. One filled with turmoil and conflicting loyalties. This wand is for him now. A wizard with a purpose. He’s correct, the minute they exit the door to make their way to Honeydukes, only a few steps away, the flash of cameras blinds them. He feels tension exuding from Harry, but for the first time in years, Draco feels at ease. This…this would all take time for wounds to heal and for him to redeem himself, which he would surely do. Not for himself, his family, Potter walking next to him, or even for his fellow Slytherins, it would be because that would be the only way for the community to move forward. He reaches the door to the sweet shop first and grabs Harry’s arm, pulling him in this time. Crowds or not, he won’t be bullied out of buying chocolates.
Thankfully the Honeydukes proprietor had shooed out the crowd from his door and then promptly locked it. As people’s faces plastered against the windows, the blinds were lowered. And that had been their downfall. If there had been a rush to get out, their kitchen pantry would not now have a shelf dedicated to their purchases. He won’t touch Potter’s treacle fudge and Harry thinks his chocolate bars are boring. They will split the rest. As Draco washes up in his bathroom, he honestly can’t remember having had that much unconstrained fun since he was a child. No one was getting hurt, there wasn’t a pit in his stomach worried about getting caught. Potter sucking on the blood-flavoured lollipop the whole time had left his lips cherry red. Joffrey, the owner, encouraged them further by bringing out one of his special treats that he was keeping in the cellar waiting for Halloween. There was no way they were turning down the gingerbread Haunted House with bags of boiled and jelly sweets to decorate it with. Harry mentioned that Teddy would love it. A part of Draco hoped by that time, he would be there to watch his cousin live the life that neither he nor Harry ever did. With bags full, they’d Disapparated to the Oxford cottage.
They both make the decision not to go to pub night. Harry tells Ron through a firecall that he’ll definitely be at their place Saturday night, and both will come to the pub the following Thursday. Potter tells Draco that he’ll make dinner tonight.
The soup is good. Potato and leek. Potter made it with ingredients that came from the back garden. He hasn’t ventured into the garden, yet, but has looked at it from the kitchen window and from the bank of windows the dining table sits in front of. The bread is even better. Of all the things he’d ever imagined about Potter, being a decent cook and growing his own ingredients wasn’t one of them. Potter moves differently now, Draco thinks. At Hogwarts, he seemed stiffer and his shoulders hunched. Now, he seems comfortable in his own skin. “Needs more pepper,” Harry says as he takes the pepper grinder and grinds a healthy dose onto his soup. “I sometimes add a few dashes of curry powder, but I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about that,” Harry says after tasting his soup again. It seems to now fit his approval.
“I’d be willing to try,” Draco responds. “When I was at the Manor, I was allowed a weekly visitor on Saturdays. Blaise and Pansy rotated turns with Theo turning up now and then. Blaise would often bring take-away. He said Indian take-away was very popular with Muggles. Mother wasn’t a fan, but I liked it.”
“What dishes do you like?” Harry asks. “I’m sure I can’t compete with the house-elves, but I can give it a go.”
Draco laughs. “Pot—Harry, we have one house-elf that the Ministry allowed to stay as she’s ancient and it would’ve been cruel to make her leave the only home she’s ever known. She’s been with our family for over three-hundred years. Mother takes care of Tillie more than Tillie takes care of us. The past two years, we’ve made do. My mother perfected the art of salad making for lunch and dinner and scrambled eggs for breakfast, but those were far from perfect. Sausages were added towards the end of my house confinement. I did my best with cheese on toast. And the year before was, as you can imagine, forgettable.”
“Oh. Well, if there’s something you remember liking from before or at Hogwarts, I’m game for trying. Ron says my shepherd’s pie is better than his mother’s, which is saying something.”
There are a few minutes of silence as they both indulge in the soup and the still warm bread. Draco was about to comment on Harry dunking his bread into the soup but refrains. Instead, he does the same. He finds it more than tasty.
“I forgot to ask: did you sleep okay? Did Scamp bother you? He hopped off my bed in the middle of the night. I assumed he paid you a visit. Speaking of the cat, I haven’t seen him. He’s usually down here when I’m eating.”
“He’s asleep on my bed,” Draco says. “As to your inquiry, yes, I slept well. The nightlights are satisfactory. Light enough that if I wake, I can see, but not too light to keep me awake. Scampire came in when he heard me get up and go to the loo.” Draco grins as Harry frowns at him for using that name. He can’t resist. The cat’s fangs are longer than normal and can be seen when his mouth is closed. Surely Potter has noticed that. “Are there plans for tomorrow? You mentioned the telly would be for the weekend.”
Harry sets down his spoon. His soup is gone with the exception of a small puddle at the bottom. Draco thinks for a moment that he’s going to pick it up and drink from the bowl. Instead, Harry pushes back the chair and goes to the hob to serve up another serving. “Would you like some more?” he asks. Draco shakes his head.
“No, I’ll be eating a chocolate bar soon, up in my room,” Draco replies
“I was thinking that tomorrow we should walk to Myrrdin College. We’ll do it a few times before the session starts. There’s certain entrances and hallways that are hidden from the Muggles. But it’s also important for you to find your way around in the Muggle areas near our college. Next week we’ll buy the computer and that will take a few days if not the whole week to learn the basics.”
“And books?” Draco asks.
“Oh, I forgot, yeah, we’ll do that on Monday. I assume you have your classes.”
“I do. McGonagall insisted I take a basic maths course and she thought I’d find British history enjoyable as an elective. Those fulfil my two Muggle class requirements.”
Harry laughs. Draco looks at him questioningly. “She told me the same last year. Maybe we’ll go through the maths book. I needed a tutor in the beginning and then my study group helped later on. But, Draco, I had maths before Hogwarts.”
Draco huffs. “Potter, I had private tutors, and my father insisted I learn financing.”
Harry nods but fails at hiding a grin.
The bedroom with the nightlights has soft shadows on the wall. Draco has closed the curtains. He feels like he’s in cocoon with the soft sheets and warm blankets. Scamp has curled up next to him and purrs with every scritch. He feels like he’s on a precipice, refusing to look back but afraid to look ahead. Still though, he takes peeks, because he’s close to where he wants to be. Back at Hogwarts. He knows his healing of mind and soul will be completed there and he owes it to the school he once tried to destroy.
He's tired, but not tired enough to close his eyes for the night. It’s still hard to do. Every night in Azkaban, he was afraid he wouldn’t wake up if he did. The first few months had been the worst for fear. He was scared, he was hungry, and he was dirty. His cell, like all of the others, had solid cement walls on either side. The back was iron. The whole structure was made of iron. And the ocean continuously pounded against it. The bars were barely wide enough to put his arm through. Imperturbable to magic. The cot was built into one side of the wall. The mattress, thin and lumpy. The one luxury he was allowed to bring was a pillow. He cried when it stopped smelling of lavender. Then there was just the stench of body odour. Not from sweat, but from prisoners only being able to take one cold shower a week.
The prisoners across the way, he could see, as they could see him. They taunted him with stories of what they would do to such a pretty boy if they got the chance. And Draco knew deep down that someday they would get their chance. After the first month, he couldn’t stop scratching his scalp. He did it until he bled. When he saw the lice, he requested a shave. It was given. Part of the new laws to treat inmates humanely. He didn’t feel human anymore and his head was cold.
They said it was worse when the Dementors were there. Draco wasn’t so sure. He’d rather relive getting his arm branded until his skin charred and seeing the Headmaster fall from the tower with a green flash than living in his own mind. Because in there, memories lived of other types of days. Days of when he was young and naïve. When he was proud and stupid. The memories teased him, taunted him…reminding him of what he’d lost. How far he’d fallen and for what? A cell in Azkaban.
His mother had visited him only twice that year. It was all she was allowed. He knew she’d see his father after him, but they never talked of him. Draco knew his father was two floors above and would be serving four years. They’d never crossed paths during lunch or dinner or in the recreational area where no one exercised for an hour a day.
Her first visit, she showed no sign of disgust in his appearance, but she didn’t coddle him either. She spoke in her quiet tone, so soft you had to strain to hear, which was intentional. It forced him to listen. She explained that there was a future for him. He mustn’t succumb to the sorrows he was feeling. To use this time to set his goals. If he set the path, he would one day walk it. And then she said it, what he’d waited to hear. She apologised for not taking him and running away from Lucius and his …his beliefs. She should’ve protected him. She should’ve chosen him. And by not choosing between father and son, the choice was made for her and for Draco. He cried that day, more than he ever had before in his life. His mother told him that he was strong. He had Black blood in his veins and the House of Black produced members like her sister burned off the tapestry for choosing another path. And Sirius, who told the family their way was not his way. Black blood also produced members who chose love over hate, lightness over dark, and independence over tradition. Draco should feel no shame in stepping away from the family traditions. He was and would always be a Black and a Malfoy no matter what.
Draco turns to face the wall in his new bedroom. He knows from here that the memories of the attack were coming as it always did. It wasn’t sexual like he’d been threatened, but a viscous beating. One that had him in the prison infirmary for weeks. He can’t relive it again, so he skips ahead to where he spent the next eight months in solitary confinement for his own safety. Locked in a cell, never to come out. It had a window, though, up high, where some days there’d be blue skies and some nights, he could see his constellation. But most days the sky was grey, and the night clouded over. He wrote to the Headmistress weekly from that cell. He was only allowed one letter a week, and he wrote to her. He apologised for the past again and again, but then he told her of his dreams. He paced the cell until his feet were raw. There in that cell, a new life was born.
“Draco, Draco,” he hears. He’s afraid to open his eyes. His heart is pounding, he can still feel hands holding him down and others pummelling him. He tries to break away but then there’s a hand on his shoulder, lightly shaking him. It doesn’t make sense, maybe he’s not in Azkaban but at the Manor. Only his mother touches him that gently. “Draco, wake up.” Then the hand easefully squeezes his upper arm. “You’re okay. It’s okay.” Draco turns over. Harry is standing over him. At first, he only sees him in silhouette, but then his vision adjusts. Concern is written across his face. Draco has never seen Potter before without his glasses. There’s a softness to his face or maybe it’s just the glow from the nightlight. But his heart is still racing. He can hear the pounding beats echo in his ears. Harry sits down next to him, and his hand reaches out and touches his face. He knows it's sticky with sweat. “It’s okay,” Harry whispers again. “You’re safe. I’m here.”
The next day they don’t speak of what happened during the night. Draco was sure Harry would tease him, but then, Harry had stayed with him until he fell back asleep. The walk to the Old Schools Quadrangle was pleasant. By the time they reached there, forty minutes later, Draco has learned to anticipate that cars will stop before hitting him at a crossing. Harry continues to chatter away. Reminding him to only cross when the light is green. He wonders who lives in the larger homes. None even come close to the Manor. But what do these Muggles do for professions? He knows there are doctors and professors and dentists. The latter information came from Granger, and he’s never understood why it was a separate position from doctors. Draco admires the front gardens he sees. Harry’s cottage doesn’t have one as it’s nestled up to the pavement. Muggles seem as pernickety about their gardening as his mother.
The Radcliffe camera in the centre of the square is beautiful and impressive. They don’t head towards it though, instead Harry leads him around and down a slightly decrepit alley with a lot of bikes chained up. There is a pile of dirty looking duvets with a collection of books. Draco assumes someone is sleeping rough there. Harry discreetly taps his wand on the bricks of Brasenose Lane, and a door appears. It is a secret door with the inscription of Magical Practices above it. Draco tries not to roll his eyes when Potter says it’s just enough to learn the way to where Myrrdin College is located. Anything more and it might confuse him. Draco’s impatient; he wants to see it all, but he doesn’t complain. Oxford is almost as old as Hogwarts. This fact Draco knows conceptually, but then seeing the different college buildings scattered throughout the centre of the city, drives home the fact that this was mainly built and maintained by Muggles.
Harry doesn’t say much while they’re walking around the different colleges, he doesn’t need to. The English Gothic and Gothic Reformation buildings speak for themselves, along with a whole host of other types of architecture, including very modern. “What the hell?” Draco says as they stare up at the stained-glass windows of Christ Church.
Harry snickers, “Yes, it’s a pink toilet. Some speculate it was a political commentary of the poor sanitisation during that time.” Draco’s brow furrows. “Do you want the whole story?” Harry asks.
“No. I’ll take your word for it,” Draco says and then continues to walk. He thinks he’d one day like to see Cambridge since he learned that Granger had gone there for her law degree. She attained her degree for the magical world but was still working on her Muggle one. Draco briefly wonders why the Muggle one would take longer. “We’ll come here again on Monday and pick up our books for the Muggle classes,” Harry says. “It will be packed with other students, but Blackwell Bookshop is the largest bookstore in the world, so we won’t be sardines.” Draco thinks he understands the analogy. “Our other class texts we can purchase the first morning of term. There’s a small bookstore commonly referred to as The Wardrobe, where you can also pick up basic supplies for writing. However, most of the professors now prefer printed documents from the computer. And some mainly communicate through email.”
“Email?”
On the way home, Harry makes a surprise decision to stop in at a supermarket, a short walk from the house. Draco is overwhelmed. Harry lets him hold on and steer the cart. The aisles are long and the choices too many. Why are there so many jams all the same type but at different prices? He jumps when he hears a toddler cry out as if it was dying. Harry doesn’t even flinch. “What’s your favourite jam?” he asks.
“Apricot, but I also like marmalades,” Draco responds. Harry selects an apricot jam that is in the middle price range and then selects a Spanish Seville thick-cut orange marmalade. Draco clears his throat. Potter looks over to him and Draco shakes his head. Harry puts it back and Draco picks out a fine-cut one instead. Harry raises an eyebrow. By the end of the third aisle, Draco can’t even look at what’s on the shelves. He has no idea what most of the items are. Harry directs them to another part of the store, where there are fresh fruits and vegetables. He parks Draco by the banana display and then makes quick work of adding items he doesn’t grow in his garden. Draco recognises most of them, but a few he’ll have to ask about.
They arrive home with four bags of shopping. Harry makes quick work of putting them away, explaining what goes into the freezer, fridge, pantry, and other areas of the house for bathroom and cleaning products. Draco tries to pay attention, but he eyes the specialty pints of ice-cream placed in the freezer. At the store, when Harry had put a pint of vanilla and then raspberry ripple in the cart, Draco frowned. “Go ahead,” Harry told him, and Draco added praline pecan and mint chocolate chip. He hasn’t told Harry that it’s been nearly four years since he’s had ice cream. The murder of Fortescue by the Death Eaters was one of the many turning points for Draco. It was senseless. And senseless deaths were meant to cause terror. It was months later that he finished that thought. Death Eaters were terrorists, and he was one of them.
Draco’s exhausted. He shouldn’t be as they physically didn’t do that much beyond walking, even if some of it was uphill, but there was so much to take in. Waiting in line to check out caused him consternation. The children of the woman behind him were standing too close to him. Almost touching him. Logically he knew they wouldn’t poison him or give him a disease, but his indoctrination of this belief fought for dominance. “I’m tired, Potter,” Draco says. “Is there anything else for tonight? I thought I would go to my room and read.”
The corner of Harry’s mouth ticks up. “We’re having tomato soup for dinner, rumour has it that you make a mean cheese on toast.”
“I do. I’ll set my alarm for six in case I fall asleep.”
Draco passes Potter’s bedroom on the way to his, the door is partially open. Curiosity is strong and he peeks in. Scamp is curled up asleep in the middle of the four-post bed. He looks handsome on the black duvet. The room is twice as large as his but is filled to the brim with furniture, shelves, plants, and pictures on the wall. He spies the framed Merlin Order of First Class next to what he guesses are pictures of his family and friends. He recognises Ron and Hermione and quite a few other Weasleys. He moves onto his room.
Draco toes off his new trainers and lays on his bed. He tosses and turns but knowing that there is ice cream downstairs keeps popping into his mind. “Fuck it,” he says and goes back downstairs.
“Uh, thought you were going to take a kip,” Harry mumbles with a spoon in his mouth and his cheeks turning red. He’s standing at the sink with a container of raspberry ripple in his hand. Draco laughs and goes to the freezer and takes out the tub of mint chocolate chip.
“I see I’m not the only one that succumbs to temptation,” Draco says as he removes the lid from the pint. He’s tempted to lick it but doesn’t. “Oh Merlin,” he moans with the first spoonful. “Haven’t had this in four years,” he says before the next bite.
“That’s punishment enough,” Harry says freely. Draco’s a bit stunned at the callousness of the statement but doesn’t call Harry out on it. He’s beginning to understand Potter a bit better. He makes fun of serious situations or rather treats them casually. He wonders if it’s a self-defense reaction but then he stops himself from analysing any further and takes another bite.
“Why vanilla?” Draco asks.
“Teddy’s favourite. Of course, he likes it with chocolate syrup, whipped cream, and a sprinkle of nuts on top.”
“Smart boy,” Draco says as he moves to sit down at the kitchen table. “Potter, do you have an owl?”
“Nope. Why? Do you need to send a message? You can always firecall,” Harry says as he circles the inside of the carton with his spoon, gathering the melting bits.
“It would be nice to send messages to my mother. She’s not one to use firecalls except in an emergency. And…and well I miss Asha, my eagle owl.”
Harry stops eating. “You still have your eagle owl?”
Draco nods. He wants to kick himself as he remembers hearing that Harry had lost his snowy owl.
“Hmm, I thought your owl was male. But I don’t have a problem if you want to bring her here. You’ll have to be careful with the neighbours and only let her out at night to hunt. I’m not sure how Scamp will feel about it though.”
“Oh, she’s very well trained.”
Harry laughs. “I’m sure she is. I was more concerned with Scamp going after your owl.” Draco’s eyebrows shoot up. “But sure, bring her here, and see how it goes. If there’s a problem, though, she might need to go back to your mother.”
“Fair enough,” Draco says. He looks in the carton and notices he’s eaten over half. “I think I’ve had enough.”
Notes:
The Vine Wand description and lore is from: https://www.wizardingworld.com/writing-by-jk-rowling/wand-woods
Chapter 4: Ron and Hermione (Harry)
Chapter Text
Harry knew that his evening with Ron and Hermione at Grimmauld would be spent discussing Draco Malfoy. And Harry was happy to do so. There was much to discuss. The Draco Malfoy living in his house was not the Draco Malfoy he knew from Hogwarts. Yes, there were similarities, but this Draco was someone worth getting to know.
“He said he hadn’t had ice-cream for four years,” Harry said as he helped Hermione set the table. Hermione sat down the stack of plates on the table.
“Harry, I know it wasn’t my business, but I looked into the final conditions of Narcissa Malfoy’s probational release. She’s living off a set budget of her Black estate money. I can’t see it covering a month’s worth of food for both. Draco leaving has probably helped her financial condition.”
“Yeah, he mentioned that she’s sold some of her jewellery. She’s also taking care of the last remaining house-elf.” Hermione’s eyebrows raise. “She’s 300 years old, Hermione. Malfoy Manor has always been her home.”
“Okay, okay, that makes sense. But, Harry, I need to tell you something else about Malfoy,” she said as she sat down at the table and passed the plates to the other two spots from there.
“Do I need a glass of wine first?”
“Yeah, think so.”
“What is it?” Harry asks as he pours them each a half goblet full of red.
“Draco was attacked in his fourth month at Azkaban. Severely beaten enough to have spent a few weeks in the infirmary. And for Azkaban that’s saying a lot. They usually release them as quick as possible back to their cell.”
“Shit. He hasn’t mentioned that at all. Not that we’ve had too many in depth conversations about his time there. Though the other night I had to wake him from a nightmare. He was frantic and fighting with his covers as if they were restraining him. I’ve also put two nightlights in his room. He doesn’t like sleeping in the dark.”
“Harry, the beating wasn’t the worst of it. He was put in solitary for his own safety. He spent eight months in his cell up on the top floor of Azkaban without being let out, except once for a visit from Narcissa the month before his release.”
“No, no, no!” Ron said as he entered the kitchen from the narrow stone stairs. He was holding a paper in his hand. “You are not going to get me to feel sorry for Malfoy.”
“Shut it, Ron,” Hermione said, surprising Harry with her bite back.
“I’m not here to ask you for your sympathy, mate. But I do want some help on how to get him through this year,” Harry said. “And what Hermione just said helps me understand why he’s even living with me, much less talking with me.”
“Well, you looked pretty chummy in Hogsmeade,” Ron states, pushing the paper he was holding in his hand towards Harry. “You made front cover, which I’m sure you expected to.”
“Yes,” Harry says with a sigh. “I expected we would. But he needed a new wand, which is a story in itself. Apparently sometimes wands literally do choose their wizard.”
“Oooh, did he get a Vine wand?” Hermione asked, looking excited.
Harry laughs. “Of course, you’d know that. Damn box shot out off the top shelf and floated down onto the counter in front of him. Anyway, he wanted to stop by Honeydukes and so did I. I knew we’d be photographed, but damn it either one of us should be able to just go to Hogsmeade without everyone making such a fuss. Malfoy said he tried Diagon but got hexed.” The buzzer went off and Ron hopped up to check whatever was in the oven. Harry could tell it was Italian, which probably meant lasagne. He was all in favour. The casserole dish was placed on a mat in the middle of the table. Harry sipped his wine knowing dinner would need a few minutes to cool.
“So, what’s he doing tonight? Do you trust him to be alone at your place?” Ron asked as he poured his own glass of wine.
Harry laughed again. “I might have introduced him to the telly in Teddy’s room earlier today. Last I saw of him he was playing with the remote switching channels and landed on a nature show.”
“He’s seen a telly before, hasn’t he?” Hermione asked.
“No,” Harry said emphatically. “That’s the issue I’m dealing with. Draco Malfoy has not only been sequestered from Muggles his whole life, but also most Muggle inventions. He seriously had never stepped foot out of the wizarding world except once to see Stonehenge, until Thursday.”
“Shit,” Ron says under his breath.
“What about Kings Cross?” Hermione asks.
“His parents had Side-Alonged him straight onto 9 ¾ . Hermione, he even mentioned that your parents were one of the only few Muggles he’d ever seen in person. Now Blaise, and I also believe Pansy, but mainly Blaise, has been introducing him to the Muggle world the only way he could with Malfoy being confined the past two years to the Manor. He brought him Indian take away and has supplied him with a wardrobe of Muggle clothing. I did have to go over what goes with what, though.”
“So how has he done on your outings then?” Hermione asked. She lifted her plate as Ron sliced the lasagne into even squares.
“Corner piece,” Harry said as he lifted his.
“I know, I know,” Ron replied. “Corner piece of anything square.”
“Especially cake,” Harry added, as he set his full plate back onto the table. “He’s done well. He only really had to interact with the barista on the first day and he seemed completely at ease, but as he admitted there was the counter between them. However, when we went to the local Waitrose for a few things, some kids got too close to him in line, and he literally started sweating.”
“He probably thought they were going to give him some fatal disease.”
“Ronald!”
“What? It’s the truth. Most pure-bloods are raised to think Muggles are out to kill them, or at least that they can give them the lurgi.”
Harry blinked repeatedly, remembering that Draco had told him this, but if this was what was still affecting his behaviour, then they’d have to have more interactions with Muggles before he started his classes.
The goodnight hugs for both Ron and Hermione were a bit long, and more affectionate than usual. It had everything to do with the wine and Ron’s bartending experimentation he’d recently become interested in. Hermione teased him mercilessly that whilst he was a nightmare at potions, he was quite inventive when given a cocktail shaker and cupboard full of spirits and mixers. There’d be no Disapparation tonight, it was Floo all the way. Even mumbling Potter Cottage sounding approximately right would get him home.
He heard laughter before he landed. He squinted his eyes trying to make sure it was the right place. There were people in his living room. There was a sudden silence when he stumbled out of the fireplace. “Whoa,” he thought he heard Draco say. There were hands and arms grabbing him and straightening him upright. “Potter, what the hell?”
Harry felt himself sway. “Bed,” he whispered loudly. He heard laughter and he looked around more intently. If he wasn’t mistaken there was a Slytherin reunion going on in his living room. “Oops, sorry. Hi. Going to bed now,” Harry sputtered out.
“Be right back,” Draco said to his guests. “I’m going to help him up the stairs.”
Harry wasn’t sure how he made it up to his room, but he did know that his bed was calling him in the worst way. “Potter, you can’t sleep like this. Well shit,” he heard Draco say. Next thing he knew the duvet was being pulled over him and it felt good to be free of his clothes.
“Thanks Malfoy,” he said as Draco sat down next to him and made him drink a glass of water and phial of some mysterious potion. He didn’t think he’d ever tasted peppermint and anise together before in a potion.
“Go to sleep, idiot,” Draco said as he stood.
“No kiss goodnight?”
“Potter. Just—just go to sleep.”
“Kay,” Harry mumbled when the lights were turned out and his bedroom door shut.
Scratching at his bedroom door along with a pitiful meow brought Harry out of his deep slumber with immediacy. He scrambled out of his bed, almost losing his footing as his body swayed with unease. He made it to the door and opened it quickly, letting Scamp make his escape. He hoped it was in time. “Oh sorry,” Draco said from the hallway. “I—I didn’t mean to lock him in there. You okay?”
Harry held onto the door, bracing himself. “Not sure, yet. Wait, did you help me to bed last night?”
Draco thinned his lips. His eyes glanced at Harry up and down. “Potter, you were beyond pissed and if we’re going to continue this conversation, might I suggest a dressing gown.”
Harry glanced down. “Ah fuck, sorry. Were you here for anything else besides the cat?” he asked as he walked to his wardrobe and grabbed his old Gryffindor dressing gown. Draco’s eyes widened seeing its tattered condition.
“Er, yes. I seem to be having a problem with the washing machine. Um, might want to bring your wand.”
“Oh shit,” Harry said as he saw the kitchen floor covered in mounds of bubbles and more pouring out of the washer. “How much washing detergent did you put in?” he asked Draco as he waded in and turned off the machine.
Draco stepped into the bubbles, which were up to his knees “135ml. That’s what I had written down on the instructions.”
Harry shook his head. “It's 35ml.”
“Fuck, sorry. What can I do?”
“Look, it’s okay. Let’s just clean this up. Wands out.”
Chapter Text
October 2001
Draco is quickly reminded how much he’d treasured weekends at Hogwarts those first few years. Saturday mornings he used to sleep in when he could. Pansy would bring him breakfast from the Great Hall. His first term at Oxford has been in session for only two weeks and already he's revising his notes and breaking up the weekend between studying and his chores around the house. The Potions portion of his studies, he knew from the first day syllabi, wouldn’t be an issue. No, it is the maths and British history courses that are frustrating. He knows he should ask Harry about them, as he took the same courses last year but is reluctant to. He will, however, break down and ask him to review his first essay due in on Monday. Harry had his study group over last night and he was briefly introduced to them. He was thankful that there wasn’t any handshaking, something he hasn’t quite mastered to do without hesitation. He’d quickly forgotten their names, only just remembering there were four of them, three girls and one guy. He drags himself out of bed, displacing Scamp when the covers are thrown back.
It’s while he’s in the kitchen plugging in the kettle, that he hears voices from the living room. He wonders briefly if Ron has come over, but the laugh he hears isn’t the same. He walks into the entrance of the living room and promptly steps back out. “Shit,” he mumbles to himself. He hopes Potter didn’t see him, nor the boy from his study group. They were kissing goodbye at the front door. It startles him seeing Potter being affectionate, really affectionate. Him being with a guy was okay conceptually, but in person, it is different. He measures the tea. Scamp circles his ankles demanding breakfast.
“Hey, good morning,” Harry says as he enters the kitchen. “Didn’t hear you get up.”
“Yes, good morning,” Draco says pointedly. He doesn’t want to turn to face Harry. He knows he’ll see his sleepy face, the one that’s soft, the one he’s beginning to like. The face that’s replacing the fierce glares and stiff jaw directed at him from earlier years. “Tea will be ready soon.”
“Great. I’m going to bring mine upstairs. Need to take a shower.”
Draco’s eyelids lower. There are visions in his head that he doesn’t want to see. “Maybe feed Scampire first,” Draco says, trying to act naturally but the request comes out terse. Harry comes up next to him and he tenses.
“Something wrong?” Harry asks.
“No, just working out this weekend’s schedule in my head. I have a British History essay due Monday. If you find the time, can you take a look?”
“Sure,” Harry says as he walks over to the pantry to get Scamp’s food. “Just put it on a CD and leave it on my desk.”
Draco huffs. He feels competent enough to write an essay using the computer but using the CD drive has been challenging. More challenging has been using email with his friends. He feels paranoid that he will say or send the wrong thing. Blaise, Pansy, and Theo have made it their pet project to send him daily correspondence. The private message meant for Blaise asking about what to wear under running shorts as his traditional pants weren’t supportive enough, went to all three. Pansy and Theo were not kind.
“I’ll show you how to do the transfer again after my shower and breakfast. It’s a bit tricky,” Harry says as he pours out dry food for Scamp and sets it on the floor. “Also, since the weather looks to be decent, we could harvest the last of the apples and see what needs to be done before winter. No more than two hours,” Harry says.
“Sure,” Draco replies. He assumed the gardening would take longer. If he also washes his clothes and bedding today, it gives him a few spare hours tomorrow to watch football on the telly. “Do you want breakfast? I’m making a ham and cheese omelette.”
“That would be fantastic,” Harry says as he picks up his mug of tea that Draco prepared, and heads to the stairs. Draco spies a love-bite on his neck and winces. “What?”
“Nothing, Potter. Go take your shower.”
But it isn’t nothing to Draco. He’s yet to have those conversations with Harry about wizarding traditions, and specifically those that he and many of his friends were raised with. Those that Harry’s father was likely raised with, and most definitely Sirius. Casual sex is foreign to him, and one with a Muggle even more so. It’s not that sex before marriage is forbidden, it’s not. It’s that a sexual relationship isn’t entered into lightly. Magic is merged for moments, and vulnerabilities revealed. A bond is formed, not for a life of love, but of understanding.
He’s had two partners, and both remain committed to him as he is to them. Pansy was the first. Blaise would be a year later after the Pansy break-up. Most assumed it was him who broke up with Pansy after their three-year relationship, but it was her. She knew he was gay before he did. He didn’t care. He wanted their relationship to continue. They would find her a partner, someone they could trust. He remembers crying in his bed one August night before starting sixth-year. He’d never felt more alone. His father was in Azkaban, his left forearm newly branded and Pansy left him. They hadn’t had sex for more than a year. She deserved more. He loves Pansy and she loves him. There would be days later while listening to the pounding of the ocean and a stray seagull cry, when he truly learned what true loneliness was.
Scamp hops up on the counter and rubs against his hand. Draco pets him as he picks him up and plops him back to the ground. “You know better,” he says. The cat brings him out of his thoughts. He has breakfast to make. Harry taught him to scramble, fry and soft boil eggs the second week Draco lived with him. From there it was onto omelettes, frittatas, and most recently quiches, which will take him some time to master. While Potter doesn’t mind cooking, he loves to bake. Draco made a small private goal in the third week of living with Potter that he would do most of the meals, leaving Harry to bake. He was good at it. Even his mother agreed when Draco sent small packages of biscuits and scones to her via Asha. He glances in the fridge to gather the ham and cheese. He spots some mushrooms getting soft, but not inedible, and a yellow pepper that is still fresh.
“You outdid yourself. I could smell the peppers upstairs” Harry says as he sits down at the table. Draco feels a sense of pride. He also feels mad at himself for feeling that pride just because Potter complimented him. He serves up their plates from the hob and brings them over. The omelettes are fluffy and overstuffed. He’s added thick slices of white toast. The apricot jam is already on the table.
Draco is at his desk, waiting patiently for a webpage to load. At least the modem noise had ceased while connecting to the internet. He is researching ingredients for a revised version of Dreamless Sleep. One that is not so addictive. He has the standard books he would usually need stacked up to his left, but his eyes are on his computer display. The first two or three days after he went with Harry to purchase it, he was completely befuddled on why anyone would use such a thing. And then, and then, Harry showed him how to use Word and Yahoo search engine. On his own he discovered sites dedicated to scholarly research papers. He would never admit it to anyone but Harry, but this invention is mind-boggling. Having this much information at your fingertips is beyond his comprehension. However, Harry did tell him that not all information is correct, that there would be a lot of disinformation, etc… but for scholarly papers it is invaluable.
For the first time, he can easily narrow down which ingredient should be removed or added. The chemical compositions are there, right in front of him. He’s contemplating taking the Muggle chemistry module during the Hilary term, starting in January as one of his options. He jumps when Harry knocks on his open door. Scamp is sprawled across his desk on the right, where Draco has added a thin pillow. The cat raises his head, spots Harry, and then lowers it to return to his nap. “Hey, I read your essay. Do you have some time to talk?” Harry asks.
“Sure,” says Draco and motions for Harry to sit on his bed. Harry pulls his wand from his back pocket and calls for a chair from his room.
“We should get you another chair for when you have visitors.” Draco nods but refrains from mentioning that he doubts Harry’s visitors use a chair.
“I thought you might mark corrections on the document I sent,” Draco says as he opens it up onto his computer display.
Harry snickers. “Malfoy, your writing and comprehension of the material surpasses my capabilities. I think if you actually want a thorough review, you should ask Hermione. She helped me with mine last year.”
Draco laughs. “Only last year?”
“Wanker,” Harry says with a fake sneer.
“Okay, so why are you here if my writing is so superior to yours?”
“You brought in information that Muggle historians are not familiar with. The mention of Lucius Malfoy, which caught me off guard that there was a previous one, being a disgruntled paramour of Elizabeth I, is not supported by Muggle text. And while I recognise you didn’t say that he cursed her and that was the reason for her disdain of marriage, you hinted at it.”
“Okay, but it is factual. That is the actual history. If you like, I can have mother send their correspondence. It’s kept in a safe with other historical papers of significance.”
Harry removes his glasses for a moment and rubs his eyes with the heel of his palm. He doesn’t put them back on, which Draco finds disarming. “Draco that your family still has their correspondence is remarkable, but you know you can’t share them. If you do an internet search on the name Lucius Malfoy during that time period, you will find no mention of him anywhere. He was a wizard. He didn’t exist in their world. I know it’s a bit confusing given that this class is taught in Myrrdin, but it is designed to teach Muggle British history.”
“So, I need to revise that section and pretend that it didn’t happen. That my family played no role in British history. There are other occurrences. Some, I admit, are not very flattering,” Draco says. He feels despondent over the situation.
Harry nods. “I’m sorry, but yes. However, I think your professor would be more than interested if you were to tell him about your history and the documentation you can produce. I’m sure the Wizarding history department would send you an owl in a flash.”
“I understand and I’ll think about discussing it with him. But do you really think that Hermione would look over one of my essays now and then? I mean not all of them.”
“I’m guessing yes, but you’ll have to ask her personally.”
“Should I do that by owl or firecall?” Harry glances over at the bare owl cage and perch. “Asha is delivering a note to my mother…along with a few of the lemon and lavender shortbread biscuits you made yesterday.”
“Ah, I thought you just especially liked them.”
“I should’ve asked first.”
“No, it’s absolutely fine to send your mother sweets. I think it's only fair since I remember you receiving so many every week at Hogwarts.”
The memories of Asha arriving with a package from his mother brings forth a whimsical smile. “Thank you,” Draco says. “Anything else about my essay?”
“Nope that’s it, but in answer to your question about Hermione, I do think sending a note would be best. It will allow her time to think about it.”
“Fair enough.”
“Okay, I’ll leave you now,” Harry says as he puts his glasses back on and stands. His chair floats out of the room. He walks to the door and then turns around. “Draco.”
“Yes. What is it?”
Harry sighs. “I’m embarrassed to bring this up, but I don’t want anything uncomfortable between us. I know you saw me kissing Jonathan goodbye this morning.”
Draco tries to hold his expression neutral and hopes he’s succeeding. “Yes, sorry about that. I didn’t realise you had an overnight guest, or that you were dating.”
“Er…um, we’re not dating. It was more of a casual thing that probably shouldn’t have happened. I’d like to blame it on the Irish coffee and shots of whisky we indulged in after the others left, but I think it was that we were both…”
Draco raises his hand to stop Harry from saying anymore. “None of my business, Potter.”
“Well, you just seemed a little irritated this morning.”
“I was, but it has nothing to do with your friend per se. It has more to do with those wizarding traditions you mentioned that you’d like to know about.”
“Really?” Harry says. Draco can tell that he’s interested but it’s late and he needs to revise his essay and write Hermione. The former will be easier than the latter.
“Yes, really. And if you’re interested, maybe we could set sometime tomorrow to talk about it.”
“Terrific. Looking forward to it. Okay, now I’ll really leave you to your studies.”
It’s Halloween, and Harry insists that Draco helps hand out sweets to the children that come to their door. They didn’t decorate much, but the wand carved pumpkins look delightful lining the front of the house. Draco wants to decline, but he knows Halloween holds special significance to Harry. His parents’ photo is on the living room mantelpiece with autumn leaves surrounding it. Harry suggests that they put together the gingerbread haunted house afterwards. This request Draco declines and says, “We will save it for when Teddy is allowed to come over.”
Aunt Andromeda has told Harry she is quite reluctant to let Teddy meet Draco and stay for a weekend. Harry doesn’t understand. Draco does. It will be another wizard traditions talk they will have to have. What it means to the ostracised wizard or witch. It is not just a cutting off of communication and burning the name off of the family tree; it is a death. A mock burial is made in honour of the member of the family and who they were before they committed their sin against the family. That his own mother once suggested he take that path proved her love for him was greater than tradition. It is a great mystery how Harry even inherited the house from Sirius. Draco knows for a fact that Sirius has a grave marker in the back garden of Grimmauld. For Andromeda to be welcomed back to the Black family, it would take his mother to destroy the grave marker at their ancestral home and hand stitch her name back onto the family tree.
The doorbell rings. Draco picks up the bowl of sweets and chocolates from a dining room chair set by the front door. Two young princess fairies ask for treats and hold out their buckets. He gives each a chocolate bar.
November 2001
Draco is sitting in the front of his maths class. He sits in the front row of all of his classes. It was Harry’s idea to help him not be overwhelmed with the other students. If he kept his attention on the professor, it was easier. However, he’s flustered with some of the concepts of algebra. The other magical students are younger than him, first years, and they seem to grasp the idea. He’s making decent marks on his quizzes and tests but it’s by brute force only. Every word problem seems to be about cars, planes or electrical currents travelling distances at certain speeds. Harry has told him to get a study group together, but he’s not comfortable enough with the other magical students, yet. He visited the professor once during office hours, but after a very strange look when Draco mentioned that he didn’t know planes could go that fast, he never went back. As his eyes glaze over, he makes the decision to ask Potter.
The weather worsens as November begins, and the walk to and from the University isn’t pleasant. He’s not yet comfortable riding the bus alone nor has he mastered riding a bike. Harry has shown him an Apparition point in a lounge area for magical students only, but its only active for an hour early in the morning and an hour late afternoon. The other magical students he’s learned are mainly from other countries and tend to stay in their cliques and live on campus. They either don’t recognise him or can’t be bothered. Draco doesn’t care which it is, it is just nice to not fear them. Despite Harry’s concern over Draco walking at night, there is no alternative when he has potions to make and monitor in the laboratories. He hasn’t told Harry that sometimes he’s been so exhausted that he’s stepped into a secluded area and Apparated to his room.
It's four in the afternoon, the sun will be setting soon. He can either walk home in the rain or meet Harry at the Dragon’s Lair café and then they can Apparate home together at five. He signals Harry with the coin Harry gave him that he’ll meet him at the café. When he arrives, he sees that Harry has secured an end space at one of the long tables. A pot of loose-leaf tea and plate of carrot cake awaits him. Draco knows he looks windswept, but he also knows that after living with Potter for two months that he doesn’t need to worry about his looks.
“Rough day?” Harry asks as Draco’s rucksack hits the table with more force than he intended.
“Just maths. It’s not clicking with me. I feel as ignorant as Goyle.”
Harry snorts. “Malfoy, you’re so far from stupid. Just show me what you’re working on. If I can’t help, I’ll find someone who can."
Draco pulls out his homework and notebook and passes it to Harry. He pours his tea and adds a splash of milk and a cube of sugar. He takes a sip and lets the warmth spread through his mouth before swallowing. He doesn’t know who first invented tea, a wizard or Muggle, or maybe a house-elf, but no matter they should be honoured in some way.
“So, what exactly is the issue?” Harry asks. “You seem to understand how to work the formulas and solve for x in all of these equation problems.”
Draco sets down his cup of tea. “Equations I can do. My mind gets muddled with word problems and transferring them into the equations. I can’t envision two cars racing to each other or a car being overcome by a train.” Harry thins his lips. Draco sees his shoulders shake. “Don’t even, Potter. Don’t even think of laughing or humiliating me,” he says with almost despair.
“Fuck, I wasn’t going to,” Harry replies. “I just remember going through this at Hogwarts in potions. I didn’t know what any of the substances were or what they did. It was like a foreign language.”
Draco relaxes. “Exactly. So—so what did you do?”
Harry puts Draco’s homework in his notebook and closes it. He slides it back across to him. “I substituted the words with what I did know. I related it to cooking: add a cup of milk, a dash of vanilla, stir lightly, let it simmer, etc… I only had to do it for a month or so. But for you, it should be easier. Instead of a car substitute a broom. Instead of currents, substitute different spells leaving a wand. Soon it will click, and you’ll inherently understand it doesn’t matter what it is. And that it’s just the equations and you can plop any damn thing you want in there. But I get it, initially you need to visualise, which means you need something familiar.”
Draco picks up his fork and takes a bite of the cake. It’s good, he thinks, and it will do for now, but he prefers Harry’s, which isn’t as sweet and has more spice. “I’ll give it a try,” he says.
Pub night escapes both of them as the term progresses. Harry does go more often than Draco. Blaise puts up a fuss and has therefore made it a habit of stopping by on Saturday night when Harry is at Ron and Hermione’s. Pansy and Theo sometimes join him. Millicent and Daphne once. This Saturday night, though, Ron and Hermione will be coming to the cottage. Draco has been cooking more and more dishes lately. He finds that it relaxes him and gives him a sense of accomplishment. Harry said it was time for him to hold a small dinner party to show his skills off and to learn to cook for more than just them. Draco is sure Potter knows that some of the leftovers are often sent to the Manor. They both work in the kitchen together, which isn’t unusual for short periods of time, but all afternoon is different. Harry no longer makes correcting remarks, instead he asks for a taste. And if it’s especially good, Potter taps him on the shoulder.
Soft music is playing on the radio. The chicken is in the oven roasting with lemons, garlic, and sprigs of rosemary and thyme surrounding it. The potatoes are boiling. When done, he’ll use the potato masher. One day he wants to try out the meat tenderizer utensil. Together they’ll make the gravy. His still turns out too thin. The peas are frozen and will only take a flash in boiling water. Harry is making bread rolls.
The dining room table is reduced, and the table is set by Draco after he sees that Harry doesn’t know how to do it properly. He takes great joy in showing him how it’s done. “Like Ron is going to notice,” Harry says.
“Actually, he might,” Draco responds as he lifts his wand and directs the candelabra on the mantelpiece over to the centre of the table. With no more than a flick, the flames light.
“Impressive,” Harry says and pats him on the shoulder as he returns to the kitchen. Draco winces. Not because he doesn’t want Harry touching him or complimenting him but because he likes it when it happens. Why he’s striving for Potter’s approval still bothers him. He doesn’t have time to ponder the situation anymore as the fireplace blares with green flames and Harry’s best friends arrive for dinner.
Harry rushes in to greet them first. Draco takes a deep cleansing breath. Ron hands Harry a bag and tells him that he has a special drink for after dinner. “Well, it’s about ready so go ahead and sit down,” Harry says.
“Ron, Hermione, glad you could make it,” Draco says as he pulls out a chair for Hermione to sit. She gives Ron a look. Ron rolls his eyes back and pulls out his own chair. “Hermione, I haven’t had a chance to thank you in person for the reviews of my British History essays. So, thank you.”
“I’m not sure how much help I was. I think I learned more from your essays than I did in my own class, but, yes, you’re welcome.”
“Well, the corrections in the citations were especially helpful. It’s difficult sometimes to disentangle what is known in the Muggle world and what isn’t.”
Harry enters the room laughing. A platter with their dinner floats in front of him. “Yes, writing that a previous Lucius Malfoy hexed Elizabeth I because she scorned him and that’s why she was against marriage wouldn’t have gone over well.” Draco glares at Harry. His cheeks brighten.
“You didn’t?” Hermione says to Draco.
Draco clears his throat. “I didn’t because Potter stopped me, even though I have the correspondence between the two to prove it.” Hermione’s eyes widen.
“You do? I heard that it was just a rumour.”
“No, he did hex her. If you’d like, you can read the letters.”
“Oh—oh that would be wonderful, Draco. Thank you. I mean that would be amazing.”
“Time to eat,” Harry says as he sits down to join them.
“Let me guess, Draco set the table,” Ron says.
“How did you know?” Harry asks.
“The cutlery and serviettes are placed just like Aunt Muriel sets a table for formal occasions. Fleur does the same.”
“She does?” Hermione asks. She looks at the table setting more closely. “Sorry, but I don’t see a difference?” Draco catches Harry’s eye and gives a smug look.
“It’s the spacing,” Ron replies. “Each piece is a half-inch away from the other and the wine glass is set first above the knife instead of the water glass, because obviously who wants to drink water first with a fancy dinner?”
Draco catches Harry and Hermione looking at each other. Harry shrugs. Draco stands and carves the chicken. “This, my father taught me,” he says looking over to Harry.
“Yeah, Dad isn’t as good at it as Mum,” Ron says.
“Good for you mother, Ron. My mum would probably take a wand to it.” Draco finishes the carving and then it quickly becomes less formal, and they each dish up their own plates.
“Delicious,” Ron says with the first bite of the chicken.
“Agree. You outdid yourself, Harry,” Hermione says.
“Oh, no, Draco made the meal. I just did the rolls and dessert,” Harry replies and touches Draco's forearm. “It is really good.”
Hermione reaches for her wine. “Draco, I’m surprised given your adherence to some of the traditional ways that you haven’t grown your hair out.”
Draco feels the colour drain from his face. This is a subject he’s avoided discussing with Harry and he certainly didn’t expect it to come up tonight. He trims it himself once it’s reached an inch. Blaise gave him special scissors to use during the first few months he was released from Azkaban.
“Yeah, what is up with the short hair,” Harry asks.
“It’s not a subject to discuss during dinner,” Draco quickly replies. He sees the other three look at each other questioningly. “If you must know, it was more hygienic to have it this way in Azkaban. It freaks me out now to grow it long.”
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Harry says and once again his hand falls on Draco’s arm, this time his wrist. He leaves it there and gives a slight squeeze. Draco doesn’t know what to do. He sees Ron and Hermione zeroing in on Harry’s hand, but Harry is oblivious to the situation.
“It’s fine, but my head does get colder in the winter,” he says and lifts his right arm to reach for his wine glass, breaking the connection. “Ron, Harry says you’re working with your brother but also helping Hannah out bartending at the Leaky on the weekends.”
“Uh…yeah. Have to keep busy. I only work there on Saturdays, though. Hermione’s usually at Cambridge or holed away in the study. If we’re being honest that’s probably my left over from the war. I get nervous when I sit still too long.” Draco sees Hermione’s eyes tear up. He glances at Harry and sees the same.
“Mate, I had no idea. Shit, just firecall me and we’ll go flying.”
“I consider the evening a success,” Harry says as he’s standing at the kitchen washing the dishes. He rinses them off and hands them to Draco to dry. Draco learned after the first few weeks of doing dishes this way that leaving them to dry on the rack bothered him. It was the first time he really mentioned anything about Azkaban to Harry. He told him that his dinner tray was collected in the morning. And at night he’d see and hear the mice that could fit through the bars scurry in for their own meal. He was only thankful the bars were too narrow for the rats. He prefers that the dishes are dried and put away in the cupboards.
“It was good until Weasley check-mated me,” Draco replies.
“Weasley now, is it?”
“Yes.”
Harry bumps him with his hip. “A little competitive, Malfoy?”
“You would know, Potter.”
They finish the dishes. The radio is turned off and then the lights. “You tired?” Harry asks as they make their way to the stairs.
“A bit, but I’m sure the coffee drink Ron made will keep me awake for a while. Why, what did you have in mind?”
“Talking.”
“We’ve been talking all night.”
Harry puts his hand on Draco’s shoulder as they reach the staircase. “No, I mean really talk. You really caught me off guard tonight with your statement about your hair.”
“Potter, leave it,” Draco huffs.
“No, come on up to my room. I have a couple of chairs and I’ll light the fire.”
“Fine, if you insist.”
“I insist.”
Draco has only been in Harry’s room once before when he was searching for Scamp. Harry had classes and Draco’s had been cancelled as there had been an accident in the potion’s lab. He hadn’t seen the cat all day and he began to get worried. He needn’t have as he found him curled up in Harry’s wardrobe, which must have been left open. He fell in love with the room’s rich colours and contrasting light woods. He thinks it must resemble the Gryffindor dorm. Not that it was painted red, it was a chocolate brown. The posts of his bed were carved with dragons. He smiled when he saw another dragon, a small Hungarian Horntail replica sleeping on the bedside table. He guessed it was from the Triwizard tournament. The room was cosy, like the living room below.
“Do you want a drink?” Harry asks as he sits down in one of the two crimson overstuffed chairs by the fire.
“No, I’m thinking I should have my wits about me for this conversation,” Draco says and sits in the other chair. It's comfortable enough that he’ll have to be wary not to fall asleep in it. “So, go ahead, ask me what you want to know.”
Harry leans forward in his chair. Draco feels his nerves stand on end. If he was in his own flat and didn’t have the Board of Governors decision hanging over his head, he wouldn’t be here sitting in Potter’s bedroom about to tell things he kept hidden…sometimes even from himself. “I want to know what we can do so you’d feel comfortable growing your hair out.”
Draco’s about to laugh because he has no idea when Scamp jumps on the arm of his chair and then not-so-gracefully steps onto his lap. He gives the cat a few pets from head to tail until he settles down and curls up on Draco’s legs.
“I assume it was lice.” Draco winces at the word. He can’t even bring himself to say it, so he nods. “You do know that it’s not uncommon, right?”
“Potter…”
“Right. We all have things that just…just…just creep us out.”
Draco sits there petting the purring cat. He stares at the fire’s flames. He had daydreamed about times like these while in Azkaban: sitting by a fire in a comfortable chair talking with friends, but he never in his wildest imagination thought of Potter. “It was always cold there but just in varying degrees. Since the Dementors were gone and it was a new Administration, they instilled new prisoner regulations. They said it was to make things more humane. They wouldn’t let you freeze to death but being cold was not considered inhumane. Nor were the once-a-week cold showers.
“I remember thinking as a child that Azkaban was just a block of iron on a small island in the North Sea. That it was sterile. It’s not sterile. It’s a pit, even on the top floor. Did you know, Potter, that the Dementors congregated on the top floor when they guarded the place?” Draco asks and then looks over at Harry. He has his glasses off. They’re resting on the chair of the arm along with his wand.
“No, I didn’t. I don’t know much about it except what Sirius told me, but he didn’t want to talk much about it either.”
Draco had forgot that Harry had probably spent some significant time with his cousin. “Do you know how he survived with the Dementors for so long?”
Harry clears his throat. He picks up his wand and his wardrobe doors open. A bottle of Firewhisky and two shotglasses float over to the table. “I still need liquid courage to discuss Sirius. Do you want some?”
Draco nods. “I shouldn’t, but I will.” Harry smirks, startling Draco. It has a smugness.
“I assumed you knew he was an Animagus given the comments you made to me at the beginning of fifth-year.”
“I did. Severus told me.”
Draco watches Potter absorb that small piece of information and it seems to set something off in him. He blinks continuously but doesn’t move. “Ah, that makes sense,” Harry finally says. He seems satisfied. Draco wonders how many missing pieces plague Harry’s mind. “Dementors don’t bother with animal emotions. And, as they didn’t feed him enough as a human, he ate those mice and rats you talked about. He didn’t have lice, but a bad case of fleas.”
Draco stares at Harry, making sure that he’s serious. Then he laughs heartily. He doesn’t mean to, but the absurdity of what Harry said hits him and it just bursts out of him. Harry’s grin is wide, and he chuckles along with him.
“My scalp was a bloody mess. I could feel them crawling even when they weren’t. And pulling out a single hair and seeing eggs attached made me vomit. I asked for a shave. They used to not give them, but it’s one of the new ‘treat the prisoners humanely’ rules.”
“Christ,” Harry mumbles and pours himself another shot.
“If my hair gets too long, I have problems seeing my scalp. When I first got home to the Manor, I was determined to let it grow out, but I ended up pulling out hairs consistently to check. I ended up having bald spots. It was easier to keep it short.”
“Have you used one of the combs designed to remove lice and their eggs?” Harry asks. Again, Draco winces hearing the words. He drinks the shot of whisky waiting for him on the table. Scamp doesn’t budge when Draco reaches over him.
“Is this a Muggle thing?”
“I guess. I would’ve thought it made its way into the wizarding world. It’s just a very fine metal tooth comb that can be picked up at any chemists. You won’t have to pull out strands of your hair, Draco.”
Draco leans back in his chair. Harry leans forward and pours him another shot. This ignorance he has of the Muggle community has caused him so much grief over the years. Yes, he knows he should work on getting over this phobia of lice and obsessive-compulsive behaviour to pull out strands of hair, but to have a means to check in the meantime is enormous.
“Are there other things?” Harry asks.
Draco snorts. “Of course, there are.”
“Name them. I don’t want you living here being afraid.”
Draco strokes Scamp as he moves on his lap and then settles down again. “If I do, will you tell me yours. Or are you perfect?” Draco asks.
“So far from being perfect. Remember, I’m a heathen,” Harry says. Draco rolls his eyes. “But, yes, I’ll tell you mine.”
“I don’t like being touched roughly, grabbed is probably the right word. I’ve already slugged Blaise when he came up behind me and pulled on my shoulders. I can’t remember why he did it, but it was in play.”
“I touch you. Is that okay?”
“Okay, time for that other shot,” Draco says with a smile. He leans forward and reaches for the shot glass. He downs it in one. Harry has his head tilted, looking at him with a winsome smile. “Yes, it’s fine. You’re touchy, not grabby.” Harry barks out a laugh. Scamp raises his head and turns to look at Harry.
“You already know I don’t like sleeping in the dark. I actually don’t like being in the dark anywhere. The only other one I can think of is I can’t walk barefoot. I injured the soles of my feet pacing my cell.” This time Harry winces. Draco can feel the alcohol lessening his worries. He doesn’t jump when the fire crackles loudly. He likes the way the flames reflect in Harry’s eyes. And the shadow it casts of him sitting in the chair onto the wooden floor. There’s a stillness to Harry’s bedroom. It’s like being wrapped up in a warm blanket. He feels safe here. He knows his room is too sterile. That’s probably another thing, afraid to put anything on the walls. He remembers the punishment one of the other prisoners down below got for marking days in blood on the wall behind his mattress. “Your turn,” Draco says.
“Okay,” Harry says but then is quiet. Draco watches him, knowing he’s searching for words or the courage to say what he has to say. He knows Potter has courage but just as it was hard for him to admit his vulnerabilities, he’s sure it’s the same for him. Draco gives him the time he needs. Scamp hops off his lap, walks across the table and curls up with Harry. They both look at each other and give knowing smiles.
“You remember when you told me about the wizarding traditions of not having casual sex. That a sexual relationship should be with someone who you really care for and love?”
“Yes.”
“I’m afraid to care. To fall in love.”
Draco doesn’t know how to respond, but he feels he just dived into the core of Harry Potter. It all begins to make sense. His physical distance from others, including his friends. His casualness about life, sex, and especially serious matters. It’s not that he doesn’t care, Draco realises, it’s that he cares too much. Pain and grief are just around the corner.
“Potter, is this the reason why you left the Auror programme?”
Harry sniffs as Scamp crawls up his chest and butts his head against his chin. “Apparently you and the cat are quite astute. Yes, it was one of the major reasons. I quit after the first two months. I was on a field assignment with Ron and Robinson as the Senior Auror. It was supposed to be just a simple burglary case in progress at a pub in Knockturn. It’s all a bit blurry now, but it was a set-up by some former Voldemort supporters. Ron was hit immediately. Robinson and I managed to subdue the four attackers. He took them in while I took Ron to St Mungo’s. Hermione and Ron’s family arrived and were beside themselves. I looked at each of them and knew I couldn’t do this for the rest of my life. Ron’s condition actually wasn’t that severe, and he was released the next day, but we both turned in our badges that afternoon.”
“And within another month you decided to teach? That seems rather quick to make such a big decision.”
“It was but it wasn’t. One day in late August, I was at the Leaky talking with Neville and Hannah during lunchtime. It was a slow hot day without many customers. Neville mentioned the new teaching requirements for becoming a professor at Hogwarts and that I should think about it. He then told me that I was the best teacher he ever had. And he reminded me that I loved leading Dumbledore’s Army. I went home and found my old notes and books that Sirius and Remus gave me for Christmas. It all came back to me how proud Neville was with disarming Hermione with Expelliarmus, Colin mastering the Impediment Jinx, and Parvati the Reductor Curse. And then the Patronuses. I set up a meeting with McGonagall and was on my way. It was the right decision.”
“Agree,” Draco says. “And, Potter, I’m not ignoring what you said before, I just want to think about it.”
“Think away.”
Notes:
The Malfoy family lore for the interactions between the first Lucius Malfoy and Queen Elizabeth I was taken from the following: https://www.wizardingworld.com/writing-by-jk-rowling/the-malfoy-family
Chapter 6: End of Michaelmas Term (Harry)
Chapter Text
Whilst the Holidays were just starting to make their presence known in the last two weeks of November, Draco was consistently either at the library or at the cottage studying. The end of Michaelmas Term was upon them. Harry couldn’t understand why his roommate was behaving like there would be OWL or NEWT type tests at the end of term. Yes, after the six-week break there would be Collection Exams before starting the Hilary Term, but that was just to measure progress and check you hadn’t forgotten everything. He had tried talking to him but Draco had brushed his concern aside with, “You’ll know if it turns out.” He wouldn’t give Harry any more information.
What did please Harry about Draco, though, was that his hair was just beginning to grow out. Harry would only admit that he did go in Draco’s room once, also to find his cat, but did peek into his bathroom. A plethora of Muggle hair products were on display. Harry laughed at himself because a few years ago it would have been prime teasing material, but now, he knew that Draco was healing.
Despite all of his studying, Draco appeared to be in a better mood than before. Harry guessed he was just finding his stride. The biggest surprise was coming home from Ron and Hermione’s last night to find not Blaise but a male student Harry didn’t know. From his dress and looks, Harry knew he had to be a Muggle. They were sitting across from each other at the dining room table and they appeared to be in a heavy discussion. There were mugs filled with coffee, and a plate of biscuits, which Harry had baked that morning. He stood in the doorway of the kitchen leading into the dining room trying to decipher what the subject matter was. He thought potions, but that class was with magical folks only. Draco had been flustered when introducing him to Nigel and Harry had noticed that he’d put his notebook on top of a textbook during the introductions. He took the hint and returned to the kitchen to let them be. It didn’t stop him from straining to listen as he put away the leftover roast beef and jacket potatoes Hermione had sent him home with. Molly had brought the dish over to them earlier in the day.
“Fuck, Malfoy, it took me almost a month to understand this,” Harry heard Nigel yell. The room got quiet once again. Harry had no more excuses and walked back to the living room, said goodnight, and headed up the stairs. He took a quick glance at the boy; he was dressed quite nice for a study session. Short black hair and rectangular glasses. He looked a bit nerdy but quite adorable in an innocent way.
Harry went upstairs to his bedroom. Scamp was spread across his pillow. He barely opened his eyes to acknowledge Harry. “You too,” Harry mumbled. He knew what was wrong and it wasn’t the strange, cute boy downstairs being impressed by Malfoy…okay maybe that was part of it, Harry acknowledged to himself, but it was Teddy. He had missed having him over on weekends. The visits to Andromeda’s home have been pleasant, but it was different when they were alone in his home. Andromeda had been uncustomary belligerent when he brought up having Teddy come stay with him for the second time on Friday night. When he asked about not responding to Narcissa’s messages, he quickly understood that the Black temper did not belong to Bellatrix alone. He promised never to bring it up again. But now Christmas was coming and Teddy’s room was empty. Only he and Draco used it, usually separately, to watch the telly. Draco had become a fan of watching both football and detective shows. Harry preferred the comedies and once in a while the news.
He wandered into their shared bathroom. The bathtub still had a line of rubber ducks on the tiled ledge. He continued on into Teddy’s room. Last year they put a fake flocked tree in the corner and he and Teddy made ornaments to go on it. The lights were multi-coloured bulbs. He sat down on the bottom bunk of Teddy’s bed and glanced at the framed still photo of Remus and Tonks on the bedside table. Next to it, was a picture of him and Andromeda with Teddy out in the back garden. Scamp had photo bombed them with a streak across the bottom.
“Hey, sorry about that, I thought you’d be gone longer,” Draco said as he entered the room from the hallway door.
“That’s fine. You were both appropriately dressed,” Harry replied with a quick grin.
“Potter.”
“Malfoy.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “I suppose he has something to do with why you’re so upbeat these days besides studying like a Ravenclaw. I guess I’m surprised that it would be a Muggle,” Harry said whilst his fingers traced the star constellations on Teddy’s midnight blue duvet.
“Oh, be serious,” Draco said as he stepped further into the room. He sat down on the only adult chair. Like the others it was comfortably overstuffed. “Nigel is far from my type but he is brilliant in chemistry.”
“Chemistry?”
“Yes, chemistry. Nigel is Nick Brooks’ older brother.”
Harry looked up from his tracings. “Nick from Beauxbatons?” It was one of the unpleasant things Harry had to deal with when he entered Myrrdin College, the upper-class British witches and wizards that were raised outside of Britain. Their families having left either because of the first or second war with Voldemort or the barmy Ministers for Magic up until Shacklebolt. And even he was slower than Harry would’ve liked in making changes. They escaped with their vaults of treasures and never had to take sides or fight for their lives. And now they were coming back to England because it was safe.
“Yes. Nick is in most of my potions’ classes and we were discussing next term’s Muggle electives. He mentioned that he was debating taking chemistry because he had a live-in tutor, which would be Nigel. He’ll be graduating First Class Honours after Trinity Term.”
“Okay… so you’re thinking of signing up for chemistry.”
Draco nodded. “I am, but I already know most of the material in the basic course that’s offered. I’ve been reading up on it.”
Harry snickered. “Of course you have. You know Hermione used to read our textbooks cover-to-cover before the first class began each term.”
Draco’s eyebrows furrowed. “And you didn’t?”
Harry picked up a stuffed dragon on Teddy’s pillow and threw it at Draco. Naturally, he caught it. “No. I liked to be surprised. So, what did Nigel have to say besides exclaiming how brilliant you are?”
“He said that if I ever chose to become a Muggle, I should study chemistry.”
“Wow, that’s quite a compliment.”
“Yes, and if you think he was just flattering me because of some attraction, Nigel is engaged to a Muggle woman back in France.”
“I—I didn’t…whatever. So, what will you do?”
“I spoke with Professor Hilby yesterday, who is the instructor for Muggle Chemistry. She advised that I do an independent study and she would design a course for me. I have to take a Collection exam before Hilary Term, to see what level she would place me.”
“That’s terrific. I can see how it would help with Potions.”
“Not only potions, but also alchemy. I discovered I knew much of the elemental basics but didn’t know there was a whole field dedicated to it. It’s beyond alchemy with a scientific basis supporting it. Learning the structure and properties of elements is fascinating. And how they can be altered and what happens to the energy when they are altered is beyond fascinating. I haven’t studied a new field like this before. It’s really eye-opening.”
Harry wasn’t sure what to think about Draco’s new passion. He thought it was great that he was so interested in a Muggle subject matter, but at Hogwarts he wasn’t sure how much of it could be incorporated. That would have to be a discussion between him and the Headmistress.
“May I ask why you’re in Teddy’s room whilst not watching the telly?” Draco asked.
Harry sighed. He didn’t want to bring Draco down, but Draco was probably the only person who would understand Andromeda’s extreme reaction. “I talked with Andromeda again on Friday night. She got really upset with me when I asked if Teddy could spend some time here during the holiday. Honestly, I’ve never seen her react that way before…and when I brought up your mother contacting her, she exploded.”
A whistle came from Draco as he exhaled through pursed lips. “Be happy she didn’t hex you, Harry.”
“I…don’t…get…it.”
“I’m sorry. We should’ve talked about this before but I was hoping Aunt Andromeda would have dropped the traditions for this one, since she dropped the old ways to begin with in marrying a Muggle-born. I will let my mother know and she will take care of it.”
Harry shook his head. “What will she take care of? Andromeda seemed pretty resolute never to hear Narcissa’s name again.”
“Potter, when a family member wilfully goes against their family’s wizarding values and traditions, they aren’t just burned off the family tree, disinherited, and not spoken of again, they are considered dead.”
“Dead?”
“Dead. So much dead that there is a ritual, similar to a funeral. This gives the offended family a chance to grieve publicly. They say goodbye to the family member they loved and cherished but have now lost. What happened to my aunt, is what also happened to Sirius. There is a marker, where something that was treasured by the now deceased is buried below, and then the name is burned off the family tree.”
“Sirius has a marked grave?” Harry asked, flabbergasted.
“Yes. It would be at Grimmauld in the back garden. And, Potter, it is a true mystery of how he claimed Grimmauld back as his family home and how you could’ve inherited it.”
Harry let a small laugh escape. “Yes, Snape let me know in no uncertain terms that Grimmauld should’ve gone to you and your mother. I see Dumbledore’s fingerprints all over this. Sirius and he must have found some workaround so they could use the place for the Order of the Phoenix fifth-year and then so Sirius could put me in as his benefactor. But how…how could your mother fix this with Andromeda.”
“She will have to desecrate the marker site, retrieve the item that Andromeda would’ve cherished, hand-stitch her name back onto the family tree, and then send both the item and a swatch of the tapestry to her. After that, it will be up to Aunt Andromeda whether she wants to claim her family name once again.”
“And your mother will do this?”
Draco nodded. “My mother will do this. She was hoping to converse with my aunt first to see if that is what she desired. But now, she will have to go ahead and do it without knowing how her sister will react.”
Harry sighed. “I’m tired of thinking and worrying about this and I’m tired of studying. You want to go out to lunch and go flying tomorrow?”
“Potter, even I know there’s a storm coming through tomorrow. But I’m all in favour of bunking off. How about we do a movie marathon? Blaise lent me a pile of DVDs and is quite perturbed that I haven’t watched any.”
Harry smiled. “Can I stay in my pyjamas?”
Draco laughed. “I suppose, but make sure we have enough of that Butterkist you put in the microwave.”
Taking a whole day and doing nothing but watching movies whilst snuggled in quilted blankets and a pile of pillows is just what Harry needed, though he’d never done it before. As the storm brewed outside, strong winds tossed pelts of rain against the upstairs windows. They drank hot chocolate with extra-large marshmallows. The popcorn would come later, but breakfast called for something more substantial to start the day. Draco had got up early and made a variety of quiches. He cheats a little by using readymade crusts from the market. Harry expected ham and cheese, but when salmon and leek along with spinach and mushroom floated in on a tray, his eyes widened. Most of Draco’s experiments with dishes were successful but not all. These, however, were delicious. Draco rolled his eyes when Harry complimented him. He also brought forth his vine wand and Vanished the crumbs Harry had got on the blankets. “Heathen,” he muttered.
“What film first?” Harry mumbled through his third quiche. “Comedy, horror, action, animation, historical? Looks like Blaise bought out HMV.”
“Mmm, Blaise said Legally Blond. It’s a comedy, said it reminded him of me trying to fit in at Oxford. I’d rather save the heavier stuff until later today.”
Harry removed the disc from the plastic box and scooted over to the DVD player and other electronic components. “Can I ask whether you and Blaise were together?”
“You can ask.”
Harry turned his head to look back to Draco. “Well, were you?”
Draco popped a spinach and mushroom quiche into his mouth. Harry kept his eyes on him until he swallowed. “Yes, if you must know. Seventh-year, if you could call it a school year. No one knew but Pansy, and I’d rather keep it that way.”
Harry turned back around and slid the DVD into the player and grabbed two remotes. “He wasn’t a follower, was he?” Harry asked as he moved back to the nest he’d created for himself next to Draco.
Draco huffed. “Seriously, Potter. I tell you a deep dark secret and the first thing that comes to your mind is whether he was complicit with the Dark Lord’s beliefs?”
“Fuck, I’m sorry. Old habit,” Harry replied. But a part of him wasn’t sorry at all. A part of him still felt the need to classify anyone and everyone as friend or foe, and Blaise Zabini was a wizard that he knew very little about besides telling fanciful tales at the pub and who bought Draco a lot of clothes and things.
“Just so your brain won’t be wondering all day whilst we attempt to have roommate bonding time with movies, I’ll tell you.”
Harry thinned his lips as he pondered over the term roommate bonding time. He concluded it was appropriate to use.
“I kept Blaise, Daphne, and Millicent out of the way. Since I was privy to most of what the other Death Eaters had planned for Hogwarts daily. I could keep them away from situations. None of the three were followers or believers. They were just Slytherins caught in the crossfire.”
“Got it, and sorry. I think a lot of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs felt something similar about wanting to stay out of the way.”
“Notice you left out the Gryffindors,” Draco drawled. Harry glanced over to Draco hearing that hated tone and inflection from earlier days. Draco had a mischievous grin on his face. “I personally knew they were all in the Resistance along with your ex.”
A shot of remembrance coursed through Harry. Ginny had been so brave, so tough, and on the right side. “Let’s watch the film,” he said and pressed the Play button on the remote.
“I’m going to hex Zabini,” Draco said a half-hour into the movie. Harry held his stomach as he laughed. A few giggles might have snuck through.
“Come on, Malfoy. It’s kind of funny. And Emmet is kind of cute.”
“Swot,” Draco said through a fake cough.
“Oh, oh, I get it. The posh tosser Warner might be more your type.”
“Fuck you,” Draco said. Harry pulled the covers over his head protecting it from the pillow Draco swung at him. It barely made contact. Harry snickered.
“Is that all you got? I think a feather swiped my forehead.”
Harry curled up under the quilts laughing as Draco pounded him with his pillow. Hot chocolate was spilled, and quiches demolished. “Admit it Potter, you like the nerdy types,” Draco said breathlessly as he laughed and continued to smack Harry with his pillow. He was up on his knees. He stopped for a moment to catch his breath. It was the chance Harry was waiting for. He pulled the blanket back and grabbed onto Draco’s pillow pulling it towards him. Draco struggled to keep hold but Harry was stronger. Harry gave a forceful tug and Draco tumbled on top of him, the pillow between.
Harry couldn’t stop laughing as Draco wrestled to get away. Later, neither would admit they had made the first move, but somehow lips found each other and there was a kiss. Harry hadn’t been sure what to do, but he knew it was nice, it felt good, and Draco was kissing him back. And…and…he was good at it. Draco made a move to roll off Harry, but Harry held him tight with hands on his waist. Draco’s face was so close to Harry’s he could feel his breaths quicken. Bright grey eyes searched into his. Harry didn’t know if his held an answer but hoped they conveyed a deep interest, so deep it caught him by surprise. “Draco,” he whispered.
“Potter what are we…”
“Shh,” Harry said softly and strained his neck up to kiss Draco again. Momentary resistance broke away. Hands cupped his cheeks and he gently fell back onto the pillow. He didn’t know what Draco was feeling but there was passion. Harry let go of Draco’s waist and let his hands roam in long strokes as the kiss deepened.
“Too long,” Draco said with a hitched voice when Harry moved his lips away from his and made a trail of kisses across his cheek to his ear and down his neck. Harry stopped instantly when he felt the wetness of tears. He rolled both of them onto their sides. Draco’s filled eyes oscillated as they searched into his once again.
Harry reached up with his hand and wiped the tears on the side of Draco’s face away with his thumb. “What is it?” Harry asked.
Draco sighed and shook his head. “Merlin, I feel like an idiot.”
Harry gave him a weak smile. “You shouldn’t. You kiss damn well.”
Draco chuckled. “I—I just haven’t kissed in years and all this emotion just bubbled up.”
“So good tears?”
“Yes?”
“Thank the fuck. My first kiss ever, Cho cried because she missed Cedric. Good tears…good tears are lovely.”
“Sap.”
“Oh, most definitely.”
“What does this mean…I mean for us?”
Harry saw the questioning look in Draco’s eyes again. He knew that Draco didn’t do casual. He leaned forward and kissed Draco briefly. “I think it means I fancy you and that you fancy me, and that the world has not ended because of that.” Draco rolled his eyes. Harry raised his index finger to Draco’s lips signalling him that he had more to say. “I know what you’re concerned about. And what I can offer is a promise that I won’t treat this, whatever it is, as casual.”
“And…and we can go slow? Because, I got to tell you, I’m petrified.”
“Come here,” Harry said as he rolled onto his back. He put his arm out and moved Draco towards him. Draco’s head rested on his shoulder. “Let’s get back to the film.” Harry gave a peck to the top of his head when Draco’s arm rested on his torso and his hand placed over his heart.
Chapter 7: School Break (Draco)
Chapter Text
Michaelmas Term ends, yet Draco still feels moments of surrealness that he’s a student at the Uni. Afraid he’ll wake up on the top floor of Azkaban. Now there is a six week break before Hilary Term begins in the middle of January. It was Saturday, December 1st and Harry is sleeping in. The last words Harry spoke to him as they kissed goodnight in the hallway was, “I’m sleeping in tomorrow…all fucking morning.” Draco thought he might do the same, but Scamp did not get the message. He puts on his dressing gown and slippers and makes his way down to the kitchen. He scoops out the dry food from the bag in the pantry and pours it into the cat’s bowl and then plugs in the kettle.
He thinks about Harry as he sips his tea and eats buttered toast with apricot jam whilst looking out into the back garden. It’s still dark, but the outside lights show that puddles are forming as the misty rain continues. December had been one of the worst months he spent in Azkaban. It was his first month in isolation. Celebration of Christmas came with a warm, but not hot, over cooked turkey dinner and sliver of plum pudding without sauce. And whilst coming home to the Manor was remarkably better, it still brought him melancholy. Now, though, there’s something foreign inside of him, which his mother told him in correspondence is called joy. It was a feeling he thought he remembered having as a very young child, but now he knows it could be fleeting. He wants to feel it but is worried that it will disappear.
He's looking forward to helping Harry decorate the cottage. Harry has already warned him that he does Christmas big and there will be a ridiculous number of presents large and small. Draco had to remind him that he doesn’t have much money. Harry told him that they would be giving baked and homemade goods. And everyone loves getting potions. Draco knows that the labs are open during the week. Supplies can be bought at a deep discount for students. And if he’s clever enough, he could remember his needlepoint lessons from his youth.
“Harry fucking Potter, unbelievable,” Draco says aloud to the empty kitchen, which causes Scamp's ears to rotate to the side as he’s eating. The past week has been dreamlike. Draco has pinched himself numerous times to ensure that it’s real. Harry has been perfect about taking time with their new relationship status. Not too much has changed, just more hugs, soft touches when they’re in the same room and snogging on the sofa like last night when they sat by the fire. His only concern is that when he told Harry about relationships before marriage he didn’t go into detail. There’s a courtship involved. He’s not sure how to bring it up. He jumps in his chair as he hears Harry bounding down the stairs yelling his name. Scamp streaks out of the room.
“Draco!” Harry yells as he enters the kitchen. Draco takes a double take as Potter is dressed only in his pyjama bottoms. He once saw Potter naked, but only briefly. Now his eyes take in how much Harry’s changed from the scrawny knobby-kneed kid in school.
“What, Potter? You probably gave Scampire a heart attack.”
Harry looks around. “Sorry, Scamp,” he says when he spies him hiding on a dining room chair. “Look,” Harry says and sets a scroll on the kitchen table. Draco wipes his fingers on the serviette before opening it up. His eyes widen, a smile breaks over his face.
“Next weekend?”
Harry nods. “Yeah, but she wants both of us to come for tea on Tuesday, first.”
Draco reads the scroll again. She has signed it Andromeda Black Tonks. He’s sure a missive from his mother will be arriving later today. He will firecall her in return. He knows what this means for Harry but more than that, he knows what this means for his mother. His father will be released next October. His physical and mental condition will probably be severely deteriorated, but no matter what, their lives will never return to the way they were before. His mother has found her voice and now her sister. “What if she doesn’t like me?”
Harry puts his hands on Draco’s shoulders and leans down to kiss him on the cheek. “You git, she’s going to fawn all over you. She needs family, Draco. Teddy needs family besides me, his grandmother, and his grandfather.”
Draco blinks. “I—I thought Ted Tonks was dead?”
“Oh, yeah, he is. I meant Remus’ father, Lyall Lupin, he’s always been pretty much a recluse. He lives in Portree. Andromeda takes Teddy to visit a few times a year.”
Draco shakes his head. “I think I now know how you feel when I give you pieces of information you didn’t know before. It takes a moment to process.” Harry kisses his cheek again. Draco swats him away. “Morning breath, Potter.” Harry kisses him a third time.
“I’m going back to bed now. If I brush my teeth first, will you join me?”
Draco can feel the colour rush to his face. “I—I.”
“To go back to sleep with me. I refuse to be up at seven in the morning the first day of the holidays.”
Draco arrives with two cups of tea. It takes him a moment to adjust to the low level of light in the room; the curtains are closed. The light comes from the flames in the fireplace. Harry is sitting up in his bed. He takes his mug of tea from Draco and sets it on the bedside table. “I sleep on the left side,” Harry says. Draco walks over to the right side and sets his tea and wand down. He slips off his slippers and unties his dressing gown, letting it pool at his feet. He feels frozen to the spot. “Draco, get in the bed,” Harry says. “All we’re going to do is cuddle as we both go back to sleep.”
“Okay, but where will Scamp go?” Draco asks as he makes his way into the bed. The tuxedo cat hops on the bed. Harry doesn’t respond with words but with his body. He spoons up against Draco. His arm reaches over him and holds him possessively. The scent of mint toothpaste makes itself known. The cat curls up to his front. Draco knows the old him would have wanted this but never accepted it. Even with Pansy and then Blaise. They were affectionate but never this intimate. It seems to come so naturally to Potter. But he knows that isn’t true. Potter is afraid to care…to love, which meant that…that he is taking as big of a step as Draco was. “Gryffindor,” Draco mouthed silently.
Draco wakes up in Harry’s bed. Scamp hasn’t moved but Harry is gone. He feels the sheet next to him and it's cool to the touch. He glances at the digital clock Harry has on his bedside table. It’s two in the afternoon. “How?” he says to himself. He doesn’t remember sleeping that long uninterrupted in his life. The curtains are drawn and the room is light. There’s a scroll next to his cup of now cold tea. The lavender tie lets him know it’s from his mother. He reaches for it with anticipation.
Dearest Draco,
You will be having afternoon tea with your Aunt Andromeda on Tuesday at her home. I expect you to adhere to your upbringing. Whilst my sister broke with tradition once, it’s become apparent that she adheres to the rest. A gift is in order for her and your young cousin. She will be coming alone to the Manor on Saturday.
Yours sincerely,
Mother
The subtext Draco understands wholly. Whilst Harry may be casual with his aunt, he will be expected to treat her as respected family. The gifts will be simple but meaningful. And on Saturday, his aunt will be reporting to his mother about his behaviour. This does not worry him. It is easier to fall into the role he was raised with than try and mimic Harry. The gifts he will ponder on.
“Oh, good, you’re awake,” Harry says as he enters the room with a tray of food preceding him. It lands on the table between the chairs by the fire. “Couldn’t bear to wake you. You looked so relaxed. Come have a bit of late lunch.”
Draco rubs his eyes and then gently lifts Scamp from his side and moves him to where Harry had lain. With dressing gown and slippers on he makes his way to the lunch Harry has brought up. “Thank you for delivering the scroll,” he says as he sits down. He reaches for the mug of tea first. “My mother has informed me that my aunt will be expecting traditional behaviour from me on Tuesday. So don’t freak out on me,” he says with a twisted grin. “I’m expected to bring a gift for both. I might need some help with Edward.”
“Teddy,” Harry says. “If you call him Edward, he will likely run away from you. But remember he will not be there on Tuesday.”
“Ah, yes, but a gift is still called for.”
“What will you bring Andromeda?”
Draco places the serviette across his lap and reaches for a half of a ham and cheese sandwich without pickles. “I’m not sure, yet. It doesn’t have to be expensive, but it should be sentimental.”
“Hmm, well, maybe we could find something at Grimmauld tonight. Ron and Hermione have invited both of us over for dinner.”
“Really? Is that because you told them that we’re snogging these days?”
Harry chuckles. “No, it’s because I told them about Sirius having a grave marker in the back garden. We’d like to find it. But I did mention the snogging part, too.”
“And…”
“And they weren’t surprised, but seemed a bit cautious in their reaction.”
“As well they should.”
The old, terraced townhouse is barely recognisable from the one he held a fragment of a memory of when he was three. He remembered the rooms dark and entry hallway even darker. Now there is a soft muted floral wallpaper, still from the era the home was built. It is obvious Harry’s remodel was respectful of the original design. The house-elves' heads are thankfully gone. That was one tradition his parents did not adhere to. He had nightmares for years from that one experience.
He's down in the basement kitchen, where the atmosphere is light and cheerful despite it being frigid cold outside. Harry had insisted that they arrive outside and use the front steps to enter. It was when he walked into the house, he felt the protection spells reach out to him and then allow passage. He guessed Fidelius.
The long plank kitchen table is mainly empty, they all sit near the front by the cast iron aga. Harry sits beside him and Ron and Hermione across. The dinner is provided once again from Molly Weasley. Draco knows by now with Harry often bringing home leftovers from his Saturday nights that it will be delicious and filling. The thick cut pork chops with mashed potatoes, brussels sprouts and applesauce doesn’t disappoint.
“Before we discuss looking for Sirius’ marker, Draco is going to be meeting Andromeda on Tuesday for tea. He needs to bring a sentimental gift. I was wondering if there was anything left that would suffice.”
“Everything you wanted to keep, Harry, is still up in the attic. And Sirius’ and Remus’ rooms are still untouched. I do a dusting once a month,” Hermione says.
“Sirius was a favourite relative of Andromeda’s. She’s told me loads of stories about him. We should take a look there,” Harry says whilst leaning into Draco. Draco hears Ron clear his throat.
“That would be very gracious of you,” Draco says and leans in further, giving Harry a kiss on the cheek. Harry blushes and Hermione giggles behind her hand covering her mouth. “Do you think you have anything with the House of Black emblem on it? I think Mother would appreciate such a gift from you, Harry, for Christmas. Bellatrix’s estate, including the vaults, was fully confiscated by the Ministry. Being the oldest of the sisters, she had inherited the family treasures, so to speak, and did not share.”
Draco sees Harry, Ron, and Hermione all look at each other. Their eyes communicating something that appears they’re not sure they should share with Draco. Harry finally speaks. “Much of the House of Black belongings were cleared out years ago. Quite a bit of it was cursed.”
The pit of Draco’s stomach turns. He tries to block his initial response of blasting them with their lack of respect for family heirlooms passed down for generations. The three seem to have no idea how respected the House of Black once was. “I see. Would that include the china?”
“Yes,” Hermione responds. “I—I guess we were in too much of a hurry to make the house liveable for the Order. Sirius encouraged us to do so. But maybe there is something in Regulus’ room.”
“I’m sorry,” Harry says and places his hand on Draco. Draco feels like shaking it off. “I do know what it feels like not having remembrances from one’s family.” Draco immediately feels like shit. Of course, Potter knows what it feels like. He lost his parents, his home, and the life he should’ve lived all in one fell swoop. And unlike the Malfoy or Black families, he wasn’t responsible for their downfall.
“I appreciate your concern, but I’m sure we’ll find something Mother would enjoy. Andromeda would be pleased with any keepsake of Sirius’. So, the back garden, how much work have you put in?”
Harry pulls Draco aside whilst Ron and Hermione insist that they clean up the dinner dishes. “Draco, I inherited this branch of the Black family vault. I’ve never gone through it, besides having the cursed items separated from the rest. I didn’t want to bring it up with my friends, as I like to keep my personal financial situation…well personal. I’ll take you there this week, and you can help me decide what I should keep, give to family members, or send to auction. The goblins have been after me to do this for years.”
Draco feels overwhelmed. His emotions have swung back and forth. All he can mutter out is a thank you. “Come on you, let’s get ready to go outside,” Harry says.
The four bundle up in coats with hoods, scarves, and gloves. Hermione hands each of them a torch. Draco looks at it briefly and then pushes up the switch. “Fucking Muggle magic,” he says making the others laugh. They proceed out the kitchen door and up a set of broken concrete stairs to the flat square of a back garden. Very little has been done to it except clearing the bramble in the beds on the edges and ivy that threatened to break into the house through the garden door.
Draco methodically walks the perimeter of the garden on a footpath made of slate stones. It’s slick, and moss and weeds have filled in all the crevices, but still, it’s better than the mud. Neglected roses, mainly, fill the beds. In winter it’s just their thorny branches and rosy hips. Ivy covers the fencing and the trunks of the two trees. An oak and birch. Mistletoe hangs down from the oak. He doesn’t bother looking into the ivy, it would only cause the rats living in its cover to scurry. There are a few statues scattered in the central part of the garden. They’ve lost their paint, and most have been chipped away. He smiles to himself as he comes upon the marker. It’s a stone, a large solid piece of stone. It’s obsidian. The torch light reflects off the sheered side. “Over here,” he says. He keeps the light pointed at the black rock. “It’s obsidian, used in rituals to heal past lives and bring clarity to the present.”
“Oh, mum has a big piece near the front door for extra protection,” Ron says.
Draco knows that Harry and Hermione are rolling their eyes. Draco withdraws his wand and lifts the large stone out of the garden bed and into the centre. With a few swishes and flicks a hole reveals a small metal box. Draco clears off the dirt and hands it to Harry. “It isn’t locked.”
The metal box is heavily patinaed but intact. Sirius’ name is engraved on the top with his birthdate and date he left the family. The four shine their torches as Harry lifts the lid. There’s a swatch with Sirius’ embroided name added back to the Black family tree. Draco carefully lifts the swatch out of the box with his wand. A note and small phial are revealed below. Draco laughs aloud as they read Regulus’ initials.
“How?” Hermione and Harry ask at the same time.
“Polyjuice. I bet they found a strand of Regulus’ hair in his bedroom or bathroom.”
“I’m sure that’s not legal,” Hermione states.
Draco laughs again. “Lawfully probably illegal, but magically, no. Magic doesn’t fall under the constructs of legality, we do that to it. Considering they were brothers, the Polyjuice might have been more effective. Brilliant really.”
“Put it back,” Harry says, sounding disillusioned. “It’s making even more sense why Dumbledore was so unsure if I was the new owner or Bellatrix. I wonder if Kreacher knew?”
“Kreacher? The house-elf…where is he? You didn’t release him from this house, did you?” Draco asks accusatorily whilst looking back and forth between Harry and Hermione.
“He’s dead,” Harry says to Draco. “And no, he wasn’t removed from the house. I brought him back from Hogwarts after the battle. He died the following New Year’s Day. Found him laid out on Regulus’ bed.
“What’s wrong, mate?” Ron asks “Disappointed it wasn’t more? I know I am.”
Draco sees the expression on Harry’s face. Ron is right. Potter is upset. “Harry,” he says and puts his gloved hand on his shoulder. Harry takes a deep breath and turns off his torch.
“I received this through trickery. It’s not supposed to be mine. It is, as Snape said, supposed to be yours, Draco.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Potter. Quit being an arse,” Draco spits out. “Do you think Sirius didn’t deserve his family heritage? Do you think Aunt Andromeda deserved to be cast out for marrying for love?”
Harry’s eyes shift over to Draco. His mouth is screwed up. Draco’s not sure if he’s going to laugh or cry. “No.”
“Phh, it’s justice if you ask me,” Draco adds. “I’ll have more than enough money next summer and someday the Manor will be mine. I don’t need a creepy old house. Fucking house-elf heads haunted my dreams for years.”
Harry, Ron, and Hermione all laugh.
“And if you want to make it a Black property again, then give it to Andromeda or will it to Teddy…I mean after Ron and Hermione find a place of their own.”
“I like that idea. I’m not sure though if Andromeda would want to move from her cottage. Ron and Hermione have been planning on moving when Hermione’s done with her law degree.”
“This summer,” Hermione says. “We want to move to Tinsworth and be by the ocean. Can we take this inside? I’m freezing out here.”
“Harry,” Draco says as they walk across the garden to the broken steps, “Aunt Andromeda will be moving in hours after they leave.”
Draco walks down the stairs in black dress robes, trying not to miss a step. Harry’s at the bottom of the stairs holding onto the newel post, waiting for him. “Christ, Malfoy, now I really do feel like a heathen.”
Draco kisses him on the cheek as they meet. “I told you I was going to have to go the traditional route today. Now, do you have the presents ready?”
“Yes. I even cut some winter pansies for the vase.”
“Oh, I didn’t know Muggle flora bloomed on its own in December. Pansies are perfect…oh wait, what colour?”
Harry frowns. “Er…they’re a mix of purple and white. Don’t tell me that each pansy colour holds some special meaning. I just picked the ones in bloom against the house. They’re protected there.”
The huff Draco releases Harry feels on his cheek. “Purple and white are fine. Pansies in general are safe to give on any occasion but funerals. They’re associated with a feeling of nostalgia and love…mainly of the platonic kind. Purple in particular represents nobility, which is appropriate to give a member of the Noble House of Black.”
Harry shakes his head.
“Just wait til you learn about the courting ones, those ones are very specific,” Draco says as he walks past Harry towards the living room and fireplace.
“Wait!” Harry says as he catches up and restrains Draco’s hand from reaching into the silver bowl on the mantel holding the Floo powder. “There are courting flowers?”
A rise of colour rushes to Draco’s cheeks. He intentionally hadn’t told Harry about courting traditions. Whilst he always dreamed of being courted and courting a lover, he’s decided he likes the way their relationship is progressing. He’s afraid that putting artificial milestones onto their relationship might scare Harry away. “Yes, of course. I would’ve thought that even the Weasley family abided by traditional courting guidelines.”
“No. Not that I’m aware of,” Harry says as he releases his hold on Draco’s arm. Draco sees Harry looking at him for his reaction to being grasped so firmly. “Sorry,” Harry says. Draco knows he must’ve twitched when grabbed. It’s fine. He feels fine. He knows Harry wouldn’t physically hurt him, but the reaction is instinctual.
“Don’t be so sure. I’d place a bet that Bill Weasley wouldn’t be married to Fleur if he hadn’t. Now let’s go. It would be extremely rude to show up late.” Harry reaches for a black onyx vase with a gold rim that they found in the attic. The flowers were arranged the best he could. Draco takes a framed cloth with spells, cauldrons, brooms, and wands embroidered on it and puts it in his robe pocket. He knows Harry doesn’t understand the significance of this find they made in Regulus’ bedroom. He reaches for the Floo Powder.
His aunt is also dressed in formal black robes and is by the hearth waiting for them as they arrive. He’s startled. The picture he’s seen of her up in Teddy’s room she’s smiling brightly and in trousers with a flowered blouse. He didn’t see the resemblance then to his deceased aunt, her sister, Bellatrix. It’s frightening, but he knows not to reveal what he’s feeling inside. She hugs Harry and then stands before him. She puts her hand on his chin and moves his face side-to-side. “Your mother is correct; besides your hair and eyes, you have the Black genes. Sharp cheekbones, straight nose, and pouting lips. Quite handsome.” Draco hears Harry chuckle.
“And you, Auntie, have all the beauty of a Black witch,” he responds and then bends down to kiss her on each cheek. “Harry has a gift I’ve brought for you. With his generosity, I selected this vase that resided in Grimmauld Place for you. I believe it was a favourite of Aunt Walburga’s. She kept it on her dresser.” Andromeda’s eyes light up as Harry hands it to her. “The pansies, Harry picked from his garden.”
“Thank you, nephew, for thinking of me when you saw this vase. I—I’ve been wary to ask Harry for something from the family. This would have been my first choice.”
Draco smiles. Whether it’s the truth or not, the words are in line with tradition. He feels on sure footing to press forward. “And this, Auntie, is for Teddy. It was Regulus’ embroidery sampler.” Her eyes immediately fill with tears.
“I—I’ve been teaching him, but he’s still quite young. Nymphadora hated needle work. Did your mother instruct you? I can’t imagine that Lucius would have.”
“Mother did, of course. Though I favoured cross-stitching and crocheting. My knitting was passable. I’m sorry to admit, I haven’t done it for years. A few of us gathered in the Slytherin Common room but stopped by fifth-year,” Draco says and then looks over to Harry, who appears gobsmacked. “Do you know if Molly instructed her children? I remember the jumper you wore from her. It was quite good.”
Harry shakes his head. “I have no idea.”
“I wonder if my father was taught,” Harry says as they lay in his bed discussing the visit to Andromeda’s cottage earlier in the day, Teddy’s upcoming visit the upcoming weekend, and the holidays. It’s storming again and neither could sleep alone in their own rooms. Harry came into Draco’s room and suggested hot chocolate by the fire in his room. Draco suggested hot chocolate in bed.
“I’m sure he was. I could teach you if interested. I was thinking of making crochet scarves for Christmas presents. I don’t have much time, so only a few.”
“I don’t think I have the time or patience to learn, but I think it’s a brilliant idea to give scarves as gifts.”
Draco reaches over and takes Harry’s hand into his. They interlace their fingers. “The purpose of needlework is to learn patience, because mistakes will be made.”
“Oh.”
“But I won’t press you on learning how to knit or crochet. It’s more important that you know it is a tradition handed down from parent to child.”
“Draco,” Harry says and turns on his side to face him. “Will you tell me about the courting rituals?”
“No,” Draco replies as he turns in kind. “But I will lend you a book. It will be important for you to know the signs when you’re at Hogwarts. It will give insight in how serious and far along a relationship between two students has progressed. As for me, Harry, I rather like the way we’re going. But after you read up on it, and you’d like to adhere to it, that would also be fine.”
Harry moves closer to Draco and kisses him. Draco has grown to love this part of their relationship, where there isn’t a hesitancy of whether a kiss would be welcomed or not. The kiss is brief but Harry’s hand caresses his face. His thumb rubs over the lips he just kissed. There’s a softness to Potter when Potter touches him. It was unexpected. It’s almost a reverence. “I want more,” Draco says.
Even in the near dark, Draco can see Harry’s green eyes sparkle. “What’s more?”
“More is everything. I want a full relationship.”
Harry kisses him again. This time it lasts. It’s slow and languorous. An arm reaches over him and he’s physically pulled in closer; the kiss deepens. Draco moves his hand between them, placing his palm on Harry’s chest. He can feel the heartbeat below his fingertips. Somehow this man survived what he shouldn’t have. Draco knows now, understands now that Potter will not leave him. Maybe not always as a lover someday, but he would still care for him. And they would have a sustaining relationship. Harry’s fingertips ghost down his spine sparking nerves that cause him to shiver.
“I want you, too. All of you,” Harry whispers in his ear. “I want an us.” Draco’s eyelashes meet, pushing back the tears he knows are there. Before he can respond he’s rolled on his back. Harry’s above him resting on his forearms. He’s staring down at him. Taking in his face. Draco finds himself speechless. With slow rhythmic movements, Harry’s hips move. Their cocks are meeting, rubbing against each other. “Touch me,” Harry asks.
Draco moves his hand lower between them. His fingers and palm curl around Harry’s cock. Harry’s head flies back and he groans. Draco wants to explore every part, the length, the ridge, and head. Gently he rolls back the foreskin. Harry’s body contracts. “Fuck,” he says. Draco smiles knowing he’s causing that reaction. He grasps tighter and moves up and down. Harry moans with every upstroke. “Harder,” he mutters. It’s only a few minutes before he stills and there is come spilling over his hands and stomach. Harry lowers his head and kisses him hard. “Want you so bad,” he says.
Draco’s not prepared for the moment when Harry moves off of him and to his side kneeling. The warmth of his mouth taking him in almost completely sends him to a different plane. Emotions surging up inside are suppressed by the sheer physicalness of the act. He can’t focus on anything else but how fantastical it feels. This is sex, not lovemaking, but it took falling in love and trusting Harry to allow his body to experience this. Harry’s hand grasps onto the base of his cock and with his mouth they move in unison. Draco is gone, undone.
It is the calm before the holiday storm of family and friends arriving for holiday celebrations. Christmas Day is on Tuesday, for which he and Harry will be hosting dinner for his mother, Andromeda, and Teddy. Draco didn’t ask Harry if he was the reason why his mother was given permission to leave the Manor for Christmas Day and night. The sisters will stay in his room. He and Harry will prepare it for both on Monday. It’s now well known to family and friends that he and Harry are now an us. The one that had the most difficulty with the situation was Scamp. He seemed to prefer having two rooms to choose between at night. Boxing Day will be when their Hogwarts friends invade the cottage. So far, they are up to a dozen; mainly Slytherins and Gryffindors with a sprinkle of the other two houses.
Draco is sitting on the sofa, with needles clicking as each stitch is made. This will be the fifth scarf he’s made. The others were crocheted, but this one is for Harry. His mother and Andromeda provided basketfuls of skeins of yarn when they discovered he was taking up the craft again. The forest green ticked with brown yarn caught his eye immediately. And whilst he’d probably do a better job with a crochet hook, knitting had always been a challenge for him and he wanted to try again. He’s finding that he has more patience now. Scamp continues to try and add his own touch by pawing at the yarn.
Harry is out with Ron and Hermione doing his final Christmas shopping in Diagon Alley. He and Harry had already made their purchases in London at the Muggle shops. But Draco bought very little, he was there for the atmosphere. Seeing and experiencing London was overwhelming at some points, although at other moments he just wanted to sit on a bench and watch the Muggles hustle quickly by. The world seems so large to him now. He knew it was conceptually as he was tutored in geography before Hogwarts. But then there were only dots on maps of where he’d be allowed to go.
The potions for gifts were almost all brewed. He’d stop by the Flamel lab tomorrow to finish them and put them in their phials. He did let Harry help him purchase crystal ones for the occasion. He would pay him back in June. As he would pay him back for half of the PlayStation they wrapped up as present to themselves from Father Christmas.
He sets the needles down and takes a sip of tea. Scamp is curled up next to him. The house is quiet except the crackle of flames in the fireplace. He breathes in the scent of the fresh pine that drapes the mantelpiece. His heart skips a beat as he sits there taking it all in. He’s at peace and has never felt more at home than being in Harry’s Muggle cottage. There’s something though, in the back of his brain that is niggling him. It’s not about Harry. No, that part of his life is brilliant. His focus drifts to the coffee table and sees the latest chemistry books Nigel stopped by with earlier and lent to him. He will crack them open after the holidays. Patience. He picks up the needles again and begins another row.
On Christmas Day morning, for the first time in his life, Draco regrets he didn’t have a sibling. He’s gobsmacked watching his mother sit on the sofa next to her sister. They showed up at seven in the morning dressed in Christmas dressing gowns and fuzzy slippers. They’re holding hands and laughing as Harry refills their coffee cups whilst wearing a green hooded cloak doing his best impression of Father Christmas. Teddy, in his snowman pyjamas, is sitting on Draco’s lap waiting patiently for his first present. He smiles down on him as the young boy’s hair turns stark white.
“Oh, Harry, dear, can you start with mine to Teddy. The poor boy has been so patient,” Narcissa says. Draco’s head whiplashes up. Harry dear? “It’s the big green one with the silver bow.”
“Of course, it is,” Harry says with a chuckle. He walks over to the whimsically decorated tree by the windows. It’s frosted like snow with something Draco has never seen before. The Muggle coloured lights give it a special glow. The red skirt with white faux fur trim can’t be seen with the piles of presents. Harry reaches down and turns some tags. He selects a handful and returns to the sitting area. He hands Teddy the first one. A small package to Draco and identically striped wrapped gifts to Andromeda and Narcissa.
“Well, this is just lovely, Draco,” Andromeda says as she wraps the turquoise scarf around her neck. “Cissy, you taught the boy how to make the star stitch very well.” Draco’s not sure what to say when his mother looks over to him with a smile he hasn’t seen since he was a young boy. One she saved for when she was proud of him. “And yours, look at that popcorn stitch. Just lovely.”
Christmas dinner at the Manor had always been a traditional affair. His parents and he dressed in their finest robes and the table set with family china and silver cutlery. The goblets were crystal and filled with spiced mead. Mother preferred seafood, whilst his father a prime rib roast. Both were provided but not until the fourth course. And dessert, always a flamed Christmas pudding, which none of them particularly liked.
“What are you thinking about, darling?” Narcissa asks as she scoops an extra serving of mashed potatoes on her plate. “You seem a bit lost in a daydream.”
“Nothing really. Just remembering Christmas dinners at the Manor…they were so formal.”
Narcissa returns the large spoon to the bowl of potatoes and then rests her hand on his upper arm. “Yes, yes they were. It took me quite a while to get used to them. Whilst at my parents’ home, the table was set formally, and we dressed up, our dinners were loud. Right Dromeda?”
Andromeda smiles broadly. “I do remember one that wasn’t so joyful and it involved mashed potatoes. I think you were Teddy’s age Cissa. So, you may not recollect.”
“What happened?” Draco asks.
Andromeda chuckles deeply. “Bella and I had been bickering with each other all Christmas Day. I think I was seven at the time and Bella eight. Father was so furious with us that he said we were allowed at the table only if we behaved and didn’t talk. Bella, of course, was pinching me under the table and making faces at me when father wasn’t looking. I don’t know what got into me but I picked up my spoon and dipped it into my mashed potatoes and meant to fling the potatoes at her, but you darling Cissa, sitting at my other side, grabbed my wrist and I turned. The potatoes launched off my spoon and hit father right smack in the middle of his forehead. He and mother had been talking and neither saw which one of us had done it.
We all gasped, but then Bella started laughing. Father bellowed with anger asking who did it. Bella pointed to me and I pointed at her. And then mother asked you Cissa and you said Bella. I think you were afraid you’d get in trouble because you grabbed my arm.”
“I did no such thing,” Narcissa huffed.
Harry and Draco laugh. Teddy, not sure why they are laughing, laughs with them.
“Father didn’t question Cissa’s word because Bella was always causing trouble, but she remained their favourite. And you, Cissa, as the baby, could do no wrong. Bella got switched a few times and then sent to her room for the rest of the night.”
“She missed the singing of Carols then?” Narcissa asks looking askance.
“Yes, but then Bella didn’t have a very nice singing voice anyway,” Andromeda says. Draco thins his lips as he sees Harry’s eyes widen. Draco was no fan of his Aunt Bella, but he was enjoying seeing Harry getting a lesson on the Black sisters.
Teddy plays with his new train set under the Christmas tree as the others sit by the fire toasting the passing of Christmas Day with warmed mulled wine. Scamp watches the train move along the track with interest. With a quick paw there is a derailment and Teddy cries and runs to Harry for consoling. Scamp baps the engine again and shoots straight up into the tree when the whistle blows. Draco rises from his chair to take care of the cat and resurrect the tree. With that taken care of, Andromeda claims it’s time for Teddy to go to bed; Narcissa states it might be time for all of them to retire for the evening.
Tomorrow morning their guests would leave but more would be coming in the afternoon. Cleaning and straightening would be done with magic.
“Would you believe me if I said this was the best Christmas I’ve ever had,” Draco says as they cuddle in Harry’s bed with red and green silk Christmas pyjamas from Narcissa. He discovered in the few moments they’d had alone during the day that his mother was given a large stipend from the Malfoy vaults the previous month. Again, he chooses not to ask Harry if it was his doing. It would embarrass both of them. Previously, his pride wouldn’t have allowed him to accept the situation. But now…but now he understands that his pride would take second place to his mother’s comfort.
“Me too,” Harry replies and kisses Draco on the cheek. “I love the scarf and the stand mixer. That was a surprise.” Draco smiles with relief. He owes Blaise a slew of Galleons for that one.
“And your potions?”
“And the potions. The Invigorating and Calming Draughts I’m sure will come in handy the next two terms.”
“I think you might need those for Hogwarts,” Draco says. He gives a kiss to Harry’s shoulder. He’d like there to be more but he’s tired, Harry’s tired, and Teddy is just a shared bathroom away. They’ve yet to make love but he knows it will happen soon. Patience.
Draco catches himself being thankful for the first time that he can recall that Ron Weasley is in Harry’s life. Their ten guests turned into over thirty as they were crashed by their current Myrrdin classmates that stayed for the holidays. Ron has set up a makeshift bar on the kitchen table. Draco has discovered, by working in the kitchen to bring out the latest starters from the oven, that not only does Ron make excellent cocktails, but also has the gift of asking a question or two and then letting others talk. Pub night, for those that he’s attended, gave him some insight into what his fellow classmates were up to, but the stories being told to Ron are usually shared only with a Mind Healer.
“If I’d known you’d go all domestic, I might have married you,” Pansy says as she leans against the counter near the oven whilst sipping on her Poinsettia cocktail, made with cranberry juice and orange liqueur. The sugared cranberries, pomegranate seeds and rosemary twig floating on top make it even more festive.
“Move, darling,” Draco says as he opens the oven door and withdraws batches of bacon-wrapped scallops. He sets the pans on the hob. Pansy reaches for one and gets her hand slapped. “They’re hot, Pansy.”
“Speaking of hot, you and Potter are burning the cottage up with those looks you are giving each other. Disgusting really.”
“Jealous, are we?”
“Very much so. And to make me feel better maybe you could introduce me to that cute uni boy with the wire framed glasses.”
Draco laughs as he takes the cocktail from Pansy’s hand and takes a deep sip. “You’ll need to be more explicit. They’re all Swots with glasses.”
“Give that back. I had to talk to Weasley to get that gem.”
“Yes, Pansy, I heard you telling him how to make your drink and not to use pomegranate juice because it’s an aphrodisiac and then proceeded to sprinkle some seeds on top, making sure he watched.”
“I hate you. But still, you owe me an introduction. It was the boy you were talking to before coming in here. I think I heard he has a brother in your class.”
“Oh shite, Pansy. He’s a Muggle. His brother went to Beauxbatons.”
Pansy retrieves her drink from Draco and glares at him. “I’ve heard that Muggles are trending these days.”
Draco removes the starters from the pan and places them on a plate. “Here, darling, go offer Nigel some nosh.”
Finally, the last of the food he made has been cooked or reheated. He knows that Harry should be in here finishing the last of his brandied mince pies. He leaves the kitchen to find him. As he passes the loo, which unsurprisingly is closed with this many people, the door across opens up and Harry pulls Draco into his office and spells the door shut. “What?” Draco asks. Harry’s green eyes are showing their wild side, which Draco has learned he’s about to be pounced upon or that Potter is being hyper vigilant about something.
“I—I don’t know all of these people,” Harry says.
For only an instant Draco doesn’t understand the issue, but then Harry falls into a chair by a small woodstove.
“Oh, oh, the supporters of the Dark Lord dilemma.” Harry removes his glasses and rubs his eyes.
“I’ve never talked about the war with any of them. Most are from other countries but some of them aren’t. Their families just moved away during troubled times. And as long as they didn’t say anything to me, I didn’t say anything to them.”
Draco walks over and sits on the floor facing Harry. His hands rest on Harry’s knees. “Harry, look at me. I could have been one of them. I blamed my mother for me not being one of them. These were decisions their parents made…not them. I don’t know, maybe we should be talking to them about it. What I do know is that I’ve never felt safer than I do now.”
“I don’t, Draco. I don’t feel safe at all. There’s a superficialness to the way they interact with me ever since I’ve started the programme. It’s only my study group who I feel are genuine in talking with me.”
“That’s normal for us upper class snobs, Harry.” Harry gives him a weak smile. “My guess is that they don’t know how to approach you. You’re not on the same social status as them…well maybe you are now, but they don’t know that. What they do know is that you’re above social status. They can’t influence you with their talk about holidays they’ve taken, purchases they’ve made. But this doesn’t change how you’re feeling right now, which I understand.”
“I—I do feel safe around the Muggles,” Harry says. “It’s just the Myrrdin students.”
“You do know, Potter, that if any of them tried anything in our cottage, our Hogwarts friends, no matter the sides they took in the war, would take them down quicker than you can say Expelliarmus.”
A genuine smile emerges from Harry. “Our cottage?” Draco rolls his eyes. “I think I like the sound of it. And I know what you just said about our friends is true, but I don’t like all of these people in our cottage.”
“I understand, but without making a fuss, I’m not sure what we can do about it right now. You can ask Ron on your way to finish the pies to keep his ears open. He seems to be the collector of stories today. By-the-way Pansy is making moves on Nigel.”
“She knows he’s a Muggle, right?”
“Yes. She thinks Muggles are fashionable these days.”
“Fuck me,” Harry says and laughs. “Okay, okay, we should get back out there before they think we’re off snogging.”
“Which we should be,” Draco responds and then uses Harry’s knees to brace himself as he gets off the floor. “But just so you know, I do have my wand with me, and I’ll be staying next to you the rest of the time.”
“My hero.”
“Good, glad you got that straight now.”
Boxing Day hadn’t been the end of holiday celebrations. Harry joined the Weasleys the day after whilst Draco went to the Manor. Then the next night they went to their first Muggle party that Nigel’s roommate sponsored. Pansy begged them to go so she would know someone there and help keep her from breaking the Statute of Secrecy.
Nigel drives the three and his brother Nick in his parent’s Bentley. Draco knows that his father has been in a car. The Ministry maintained a few for special situations. Sometimes Minister Fudge would arrive at the Manor by car, but Draco’s never been in one. The drive is short according to the brothers and Harry. He’s thankful it’s over but admits to himself it wasn’t as bad as he thought. He has been on the Knight Bus after all. It was a dare in third-year. “Merlin,” Draco says as they arrive to a castle outside of North Oxfordshire and step out at the portico for a driver to park the car off sight.
“Yeah, it’s something,” Nick says. "It’s about 700 years old and has been in the family from the start."
“Draco’s family home is close to a thousand,” Pansy chimes in. Draco elbows her and gives her a frown.
“Is it?” Nick asks as they walk up the stairs to the opened front doors.
“Yes,” Draco replies, “But it’s not a castle like this. What business is your friend’s family in?”
Nigel and Nick laugh. “Investing. It’s all old money. Paul is a great guy, involved in all kinds of philanthropies, but the science bug bit him so now he’s my flatmate. Our place is nothing like this. Our fathers are old friends. They went to King's College together. This is the third-year he’s thrown a party at his family home during the holidays. His parents fly off to Seychelles on Boxing Day and then off to their home in Monaco for a month. We rented that home from them for a few years and then came back to England three years ago.”
Draco squeezes Harry’s hand. And hopes Pansy doesn’t inquire as to why they lived there or moved back. Draco is quickly overtaken by the beauty of the castle when they enter. Harry keeps a firm grip on his hand. His guess is there’s at least three hundred people that he can see milling around from where he stands. The décor is not ostentatious but holds a subtle beauty. Only if you’re in the know would you realise the price of the furnishings and artwork. Nigel puts his arm around Pansy, and they and Nick lead Harry and Draco down a hall to the right that ends in a massive game room, fully wood panelled with an open bar.
“Speechless, Potter?” Draco asks. Harry nods. “I am too. At least our attire is appropriate.” Harry gives him a wink. They had disagreements on what to wear. Draco thought they should wear formal, and Harry disagreed vehemently. He said they should wear smartish trousers, white shirts with ties and jumpers; Draco’s cashmere would do. Pansy settled it with a firecall. Harry won.
A buzz of conversation seems to be happening around them as they approach the carved wooden bar. There are three bartenders, making quick time with the orders. The spirits are top notch but they are not inclined to make anything too fancy…not like Ron, Draco notices. Nigel has to repeat the martini order for all of them as the noise has picked up even more. Draco strains to hear what gin will be used but doesn’t recognise the name. They each pick up their martini from the bar and move to the opposite side of the room where there’s more room to breathe.
“You okay?” Harry asks.
“Christ this is strong,” Draco says as he tastes the martini. “Yes, of course, why?”
“No reason,” Harry replies with a smile reaching above the glass rim. It’s a minute later that Draco understands why Harry made the inquiry. He’s in a castle full of hundreds of Muggles.
Pansy, in her red cocktail dress looks smashing, Draco thinks. She fits in perfectly with all of the other socialites. She pulls on Draco’s arm and motions him that she wants to tell him something. He bends down for her to whisper in his ear. “The Prince is here.” Draco’s brow furrows. “Prince William…one day will be King,” she explains.
Draco knows he should be impressed but he doesn’t feel it. He tells Harry and Harry shrugs his shoulders. “Maybe you should tell him about Lucius Malfoy and Elizabeth the First,” Harry says.
“We’re going to go wander,” Pansy tells Draco. She doesn’t offer for them to follow, which is fine. Draco is sure that’s the last he’ll see of her for the night. He finds it odd that he and Harry are in some castle, where they don’t know the owner, sipping sublime martinis watching people they don’t know playing billiards.
“I think we’re on our own, Potter. Let’s get another one of these and then survey the castle.”
“Can we go home after that?” Harry asks.
“Most certainly.”
After visiting the second floor of the castle and nosing around, Harry pulls Draco into a loo, shuts the door and Side-Alongs them straight back into his bedroom at the cottage. “Thank you!” Draco says and sets his half-finished third martini down on the bedside table. Harry does the same but only after drinking the last half of his in one swallow.
Draco suddenly knows this is the night. He can feel it. They’re not going to talk about it. They’re just going to prepare for bedtime like they usually do. Draco uses his old bathroom; Harry uses the one he shares with Teddy. Draco will come back and slip under the duvet. Harry will stoke the fire and then use the main switch on the wall to turn off the lights. He’ll take off his glasses and then join Draco in bed. If they talk, they’ll lay on their backs. If they’re too tired, Harry will curl around him and they’ll go to sleep. The only random factor will be whether Scamp sleeps with them or on one of the chairs by the fire.
“What do you think of Muggle high society?” Harry asks whilst laying on his back.
“Same as Wizarding,” Draco answers. “Just a lot of rich people doing what rich people do.”
“Do you miss it?” Harry asks and then catches Draco off guard by turning on his side and placing his hand on Draco’s hip. The simple touch makes him stutter his response.
“Yes—no. I mean, I miss some things when I was a child, but as you can guess, there were no high society events from fifth-year on. However, what I saw tonight was no different than the parties my parents threw when I was young…well except formal wear was expected.” Harry chuckles in his ear. His hand slides down his thigh. He’s sure Harry can feel the goosebumps he’s caused, and if his hand moves up, the erection waiting for him to touch. Draco manoeuvres to his side. “Lube would be appropriate for tonight,” he says. If it wasn’t so dark, he’s sure Harry’s expression would be worth capturing in a photo.
The first time they used lube, Draco was taken aback that it came in a plastic tube and not a fancy pot. He didn’t question it at the moment, but later as flashbacks of their times together invaded his studies, which was not uncommon, he understood that Harry had Muggle partners in the past, and tubes is how the product came. Harry reaches back to his bedside table and takes the ceramic pot out of the drawer. It was a gift Draco gave him in his Christmas stocking. Harry hands it to Draco.
Draco knows that they will switch up in the future, but he’s never experienced being penetrated before. Harry had told him that it was great either way but for their first time…Draco takes the pot and flips the lid open.
He’d dreamt about this moment but the experience of being inside Potter is beyond what his mind could conjure. Harry’s legs wrap over Draco’s shoulders crying out for more. Draco isn’t sure where Harry’s need is coming from. It’s more than primal. It’s close to desperation. Draco stops while deep inside Harry. Harry’s eyes open with a perplexing stare. “I care and I love,” Draco says. “Don’t fear me…us.”
Chapter 8: Hilary Term (Harry)
Chapter Text
The new term started in the midst of winter. Normally Harry would have felt the dreariness of the grey skies and consistent dampness of the air. This year, though, it had given them more excuses to spend on the Playstation laughing and competing. The days before Draco took his collection exam for chemistry had been tough for both of them. He barely saw Draco for the three days prior. He was slowly beginning to understand Draco’s passion for the subject, but still worried how this new passion could be integrated at Hogwarts. Potion bases could definitely be explained in greater detail as well as the effects of the pH of a liquid: alkaline versus acidity. Harry left the subject matter for Draco to figure out. He was just enjoying seeing him so enthused.
This term the modules he was taking in his specialty of Defence Against the Dark Arts was focussed mainly on the Dark Arts. The theory, the origins, and the practise. The same would be true during his final Trinity term at the University. Draco insisted on looking over Harry’s textbooks. Harry had to physically pull them out of his hands when Draco started in with his own version of the history and practise.
By half term Harry began to feel the pull of his future at Hogwarts. There was one more term and then final examinations, but already he was imagining his professor quarters and looking through suggested textbooks for each year. Draco seemed too entrenched in his current studies to indulge him in talking about what it would be like to sit at the Head Table and watch first-years get sorted.
Draco’s apprehension of Muggles and Muggle things had dissipated to a trickle. Having him be able to go to the supermarket and other shops on his own relieved Harry of having those responsibilities completely on his shoulders. It never failed that when Draco would come home from the shops, a new flavour of ice-cream to try would be in the bag.
It was time, though, for both of them to start integrating back into the wizarding world before they began teaching at Hogwarts…especially for Draco. Harry made reservations for Valentine’s Day at The Holy Grail, a new upscale restaurant located in Diagon Alley’s south side. Previously it had been one his favourite cafés that he visited the summer of his third year. He knew he was tempting fate with it being so close to the Daily Prophet headquarters.
Both of them were dressed in black wizarding robes, not their finest dress ones, but appropriate for a fancy dinner. Harry smirked at Draco, who hadn’t been in robes since his first visit with Andromeda. He kept adjusting the collar and buttons. Draco also took more time with his hair as it had continued to grow out. It was now long enough so that Harry suggested a trim, but Draco declined. They Apparated straight to outside of the café and quickly entered.
Harry knew that Draco was nervous; he was too. However, the owner, Fay Dunbar, a fellow Gryffindor two years ahead of Harry, had promised to give them privacy despite it being one of their busiest nights of the year. Harry had arranged to have a single red rose at Draco’s setting per the guidance of the wizarding courting traditions book Draco had given him for Christmas. Whilst Draco had said he didn’t want to abide by the customs, Harry didn’t see why cherry picking a few here and there would hurt.
The change of atmosphere was immediate as they crossed the threshold into the Holy Grail. All noises from outside were muted, whilst classical music played softly. The deep brown panelled wainscotting was set off by the muted pastel flowered wallpaper. Floating candles above provided the intimate lighting. There were twelve tables each covered with white linens and white china trimmed in gold. “Diagon certainly has gone fancy,” Draco whispered to Harry as the host led them to their table. It was midway along the left wall; tall folding barriers on each side separated the tables from each other. Harry immediately claimed the seat without the rose placed above the formal setting. Draco’s eyebrow raised. “Is this from you, Mr Potter?” Draco asked.
“Yes, it is, Mr Malfoy,” Harry answered briefly as the waiter appeared with two glasses of champagne and the prix fixe menu where they were to choose their main course and dessert of preference. Hermione had mentioned the restaurant to him and when she mentioned that the wines were pre matched to each course, he was sold.
“Messiers, enjoy your evening,” the waiter said after Draco ordered the duck confit and Black Forest gateau and Harry the braised lamb with cherries jubilee.
“Really, Harry, they’re going to make a spectacle flambéing your dessert.” Harry shrugged. “So, the rose. Is it just something you did or were you inspired by your Christmas gift?”
Harry reached across the table and picked up the rose and presented it to Draco. “One life, one love,” he said. He forced down the laugh that wanted to break through seeing Draco’s expression of astonishment.
“This isn’t a marriage proposal, is it?” Draco asked.
“No, no. I mean sorry if you thought so, but the book…”
“Shut it, Potter. I was just winding you up. This is quite a lovely surprise. I will accept it.”
Wearing robes to dinner was a brilliant idea, Harry thought, as his stomach expanded after the seven-course meal and dessert with espresso afterwards. He felt overly content. “Shall we go?” Draco asked after Harry paid the bill. “I don’t have a doubt we’ll be met by the press outside, despite the privacy front glass windows here.”
“Sure, but what do you say we give them a show?”
Draco blinked. “You’re serious?”
Harry nodded. “They’re going to find out anyway, best they know before we go to Hogwarts.” Draco produced a sly smile that gave Harry a moment of doubt. With one hand Draco took Harry’s hand and the other the rose. When the front door opened, the flashes began. Draco held up the rose and turned towards Harry for the confirming kiss.
“Yes, mother, Harry knows what it means,” Draco said down on his knees in front of the fireplace talking with Narcissa the next morning.
“It means we’re off the market, Narcissa,” Harry yelled from the kitchen doorway.
“Yes, mother, he’s still a heathen. I’m trying my best to educate him, but there’s only so much I can do given with what…”
“Hi, Narcissa,” Harry said as he bent down next to Draco. “My apologies for not coming to you first to ask for your blessing.”
“That’s fine, Harry. I’m happy for both of you. Have you thought anymore about the next stages?”
“No!” Draco said emphatically. “We’re only twenty-one and we thought we’d sit at this one for a while.”
“Okay, darlings, I won’t keep you. I know you both have early courses. Congratulations.”
The random crocuses had begun to spring up and flower as Hilary term ended. Harry was sitting in his study early Saturday morning going over the requirements for final examinations, which would be happening at the end of Trinity term. His sleeping in the first day of break was broken by the setting in of anxiety. One term left and then a few months off before making his way to Hogwarts. He thought of the professors that were there when he started. A few still remained, others had died, some in the battle, retired, or just went on to do other things. He knew for him; he’d be there to see the upcoming first-years’ grandkids.
“Harry,” Draco said as he knocked on the study door slightly ajar.
Harry lifted his wand and the door opened further. “Come on in. Surprised you’re up, too.”
“Thinking about leaving here and going onto Hogwarts?” Draco asked as he made his way to the chair in front of Harry’s desk.
“Yep,” Harry said whilst nodding his head. “And you? You haven’t talked about it much recently.”
“I know. And I’m sorry,” Draco said. He crossed his legs and wrapped his dressing gown around them. “Want some tea?”
Harry’s brow furrowed. “Are we about to have a serious conversation?”
“Afraid so.”
“Okay, then better make the tea. Is in here, okay?” Harry asked. Both their heads raised up as unhappy meows were coming from the kitchen. “Kitchen it is.”
Harry hadn’t much of a clue what Draco wanted to discuss. He didn’t think it was their relationship, because even last night after celebrating end of Hilary term, he talked about them going on a holiday to Portugal over the break. He filled Scamps bowl with dry food and gave him some fresh water as Draco measured the tea and waited for the kettle to boil.
“Toast?” Harry asked.
“Sure, with marmalade.”
Harry stood by the toaster, waiting. He watched Draco using the kitchen as if he always lived there. He remembered their early days back in late September when yellow post-it notes were stuck to every appliance and drawer. Draco brought the tea over to the table and retrieved the milk jug and bowl of sugar cubes. “Almost there,” Harry said as the second round of toast popped up.
“So, what’s so serious that we need to discuss first thing of our first day of break ?” Harry asked as he sat down at the table with the plate of buttered toast.
Draco took a visible deep breath and his cheeks puffed out as he exhaled. “I’m not going back to Hogwarts, Harry.”
Harry felt his stomach drop. He closed his eyes for a moment. “What? I mean why? Is it the Board of Governors? I swear if it is…”
“No,” Draco said and put his hand on top of Harry’s from across the table. “No, it’s not them. It’s me. I—I want to stay here. I’m applying to Balliol College to specialise in Chemistry and likely afterwards to get my DPhil. It’s not clear if I’d have to do three years of undergraduate or not. Professor Hilby is looking into it.”
Draco’s eyes were focused on him, waiting for a reaction. Harry didn’t know how he felt. Disappointed that they wouldn’t be Hogwarts professors together but astounded that Draco Malfoy wanted to live and be further educated in the Muggle world. “Have you talked with McGonagall?”
“Yes. I was afraid to because of how much she’s done for me, but I knew I wouldn’t be happy going back to Hogwarts full-time right now. I really really want to do this, Harry.”
Harry picked up his tea, sipping it while he let his thoughts wander about this new fork in the road. “What do you mean by full-time?”
“McGonagall asked if I’d consider teaching Alchemy to seventh-years only. It’s always been an elective, but without much demand, it hasn’t been taught very often.”
“Draco, I’m sure if it was known that you were teaching it, there would be an overflow of students. So, you said yes?”
“I said yes. And she just owled me with the Board of Governors approval. We’d have to work it around my schedule here. Ideally, it would be first or last course of the day and then I could stay overnight with you in your quarters. I guess what I’d like to know is how you feel about this and whether you had plans on selling the cottage. If so, I’d like to buy it.”
“I don’t know how I feel. Can you give me some time? I know I’m excited for you but very sad we won’t be snogging in empty classrooms,” Harry said. Draco gave him a pained look. It was enough for Harry to know that he would miss that part, too.
“All the time you need.”
“As to the cottage, I’m not selling but you should live here and take care of Scamp. I’ve been worried about taking him to Hogwarts. Letting him outside to wander could be dangerous. He’s a Muggle cat.”
Draco laughed. “Maybe we could get you a Kneazle?”
“Maybe. And an owl.”
“You should take Asha. I think she’s lonely here.”
“Wow, you’d lend me your owl? This is a lot to take in, Draco. Have you thought about what this might mean for our relationship?” Harry asked. He finally picked up a piece of toast, not bothering to put marmalade on it.
“I have. I think we can make this work. I want to make this work.”
Harry nodded. “We’ll make it work. And we can start by going on that holiday.”
Chapter 9: Epilogue: The Celebration (Harry)
Chapter Text
2022
Harry looked around the cottage. It was filled to the brim with colleagues, friends and family, and as Draco put it, honoured guests. Music played in the background. It was from Draco’s playlist that he’d worked hours on. There was no magic to the decorations, nor to the food or drink. The balloons floating at the top of the ceiling and tied to trees in the back garden were the infamous blue colour with white mixed in for contrast. The large banner of congratulations was attached to the stair railing. Pansy and Blaise couldn’t resist, and had the congratulations written in silver with a small green snake coiled in the corner. And the food, displayed on the extended dining room table, was of their own creations. A weeks’ worth of cooking and baking and storing what they could in the freezer and refrigerator. Harry took a quick sniff; the mini quiches would have to come out of the oven in a few minutes after their reheat. Only the coffee and tea were made minutes before the guests arrived. Harry’s new favourite brunch cocktail, bellinis, along with a variety of other types of cocktails were being made by their favourite professional bartender, Ron.
“Merlin, is that Narcissa?” Hermione asked as she bumped up next to Harry.
“It is. Never thought we’d see her in a trouser suit,” Harry replied as he looked over to both Narcissa and Andromeda lining up for their bellinis. He took a quick scan of the room and saw Lucius sitting in the corner, far away from everyone else. Only Blaise was sitting nearby. Bringing him here was a risk, but Draco and Narcissa were insistent that he see his son’s success being celebrated. He was older than his years and rarely spoke.
Teddy, with hair as blond as Draco’s, already had his drink and was talking with Rose and Hugo by the stairwell. Draco was standing by the fireplace surrounded by his colleagues, fellow Oxford chemistry professors from the various colleges. His long hair was flowing straight today. For his classes, it was always in a French plait. Harry stepped towards the group but was pushed aside by a woman he didn’t recognise.
“Professor Malfoy, here’s my card,” the woman who stopped Harry’s progression said to Draco when she reached him. She was dressed sharply in a beige suit and black pumps. Her hair was heavily highlighted and twisted up in a bun accentuating her attempt at a professional look. She slipped a business card into the front pocket of his suit jacket. “I think it’s time we find you a new house to fit your new Statutory Professor status,” she said with a happy faux smile. Harry, now standing a few feet away from the group, kept his eyes on Draco to see what his response would be. Draco removed the card and his glasses from his pocket. He put on the tortoiseshell framed spectacles, which Harry consistently teased him about. He read the card and then handed it back to the woman. Harry’s heartbeat quickened when Draco spoke.
“Thank you, Sylvia, but no. My roommate and I are quite happy here. It is our home”.
“Oh, I didn’t mean…Oh, I didn’t know you had a roommate,” she said.
A smile broke over Draco’s face. Harry loved the way the crows-feet around his eyes deepened when he did so. “My partner, my husband, and I have lived here for over twenty years, Sylvia. “Harry,” Draco said as he looked around the room. “Harry, there you are. Come meet Sylvia.”
Harry stepped through the small crowd between them. Draco put his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Sylvia, this is Harry Potter, my husband or as we affectionately call each other, roommate. This is actually his cottage. I just happened to invade it twenty odd years ago when I was down on my luck. Harry, Sylvia was saying that maybe we should look for something grander to fit my new status.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean…”
Harry rolled his eyes at Draco trolling one of their guests, though he wasn’t sure who she came with as he didn’t know most of the guests. “Sylvia, my roommate is playing, ignore him. We have other homes, one in Scotland, and a recently purchased flat in London, but we like the cottage for sentimental reasons. So, no we won’t be selling or buying. Now, let’s get you a bellini.”
Draco pulled Harry back by his hand-knitted jumper as he walked away. “You’re no fun,” he whispered in his ear. Harry reached into his trouser pocket; Draco grabbed his thigh when the Stinging Hex arrived.
The End
Pages Navigation
iota on Chapter 1 Tue 27 Dec 2022 11:02PM UTC
Comment Actions
Romaine on Chapter 1 Fri 06 Jan 2023 08:36PM UTC
Comment Actions
blueheart_V on Chapter 1 Wed 28 Dec 2022 01:38PM UTC
Comment Actions
Romaine on Chapter 1 Fri 06 Jan 2023 08:34PM UTC
Comment Actions
TheGoblinMatriarch on Chapter 1 Sun 08 Jan 2023 01:27PM UTC
Comment Actions
Romaine on Chapter 1 Fri 27 Jan 2023 08:07PM UTC
Comment Actions
Grayling on Chapter 1 Sun 08 Jan 2023 09:54PM UTC
Comment Actions
Romaine on Chapter 1 Sun 15 Jan 2023 12:17AM UTC
Comment Actions
Menagerieofsorts on Chapter 1 Fri 27 Jan 2023 03:31PM UTC
Comment Actions
Romaine on Chapter 1 Fri 27 Jan 2023 08:21PM UTC
Comment Actions
Menagerieofsorts on Chapter 1 Sat 28 Jan 2023 03:16AM UTC
Comment Actions
papercupmixmaster on Chapter 1 Tue 21 Mar 2023 12:36AM UTC
Comment Actions
Romaine on Chapter 1 Fri 24 Mar 2023 07:17PM UTC
Comment Actions
Miss_L on Chapter 1 Thu 18 Jan 2024 02:35PM UTC
Comment Actions
Romaine on Chapter 1 Fri 19 Jan 2024 12:39AM UTC
Comment Actions
iota on Chapter 2 Wed 28 Dec 2022 03:56AM UTC
Comment Actions
Romaine on Chapter 2 Fri 06 Jan 2023 08:37PM UTC
Comment Actions
khalulu on Chapter 2 Wed 28 Dec 2022 05:02AM UTC
Comment Actions
Romaine on Chapter 2 Fri 06 Jan 2023 08:39PM UTC
Comment Actions
herman_the_moth on Chapter 2 Fri 06 Jan 2023 07:20AM UTC
Comment Actions
Romaine on Chapter 2 Fri 06 Jan 2023 08:41PM UTC
Comment Actions
Grayling on Chapter 2 Mon 09 Jan 2023 03:21PM UTC
Comment Actions
Romaine on Chapter 2 Sun 15 Jan 2023 12:21AM UTC
Comment Actions
tessatet on Chapter 2 Fri 13 Jan 2023 03:43PM UTC
Comment Actions
Romaine on Chapter 2 Sun 15 Jan 2023 12:21AM UTC
Comment Actions
Miss_L on Chapter 2 Thu 18 Jan 2024 04:29PM UTC
Comment Actions
Romaine on Chapter 2 Fri 19 Jan 2024 12:40AM UTC
Comment Actions
iota on Chapter 3 Wed 28 Dec 2022 03:57AM UTC
Comment Actions
Romaine on Chapter 3 Fri 06 Jan 2023 08:44PM UTC
Comment Actions
iota on Chapter 4 Wed 28 Dec 2022 03:58AM UTC
Comment Actions
khalulu on Chapter 4 Wed 28 Dec 2022 10:24PM UTC
Comment Actions
Romaine on Chapter 4 Fri 06 Jan 2023 08:45PM UTC
Comment Actions
iota on Chapter 5 Wed 28 Dec 2022 06:08AM UTC
Comment Actions
Romaine on Chapter 5 Fri 06 Jan 2023 11:06PM UTC
Comment Actions
khalulu on Chapter 5 Thu 29 Dec 2022 04:36AM UTC
Comment Actions
Romaine on Chapter 5 Fri 06 Jan 2023 11:05PM UTC
Comment Actions
khalulu on Chapter 5 Sat 07 Jan 2023 03:14AM UTC
Comment Actions
Romaine on Chapter 5 Sat 07 Jan 2023 07:55AM UTC
Comment Actions
Grayling on Chapter 5 Wed 11 Jan 2023 08:59PM UTC
Comment Actions
Romaine on Chapter 5 Sun 15 Jan 2023 12:25AM UTC
Comment Actions
iota on Chapter 6 Wed 28 Dec 2022 06:35AM UTC
Comment Actions
Romaine on Chapter 6 Fri 06 Jan 2023 11:09PM UTC
Comment Actions
Pages Navigation