Fic - facta furiosum (part II) H/D [PG 13]
Title: facta furiosum
Author: alovelycupoftea
Gift Fic For: eowyn_rain in hd_smoochfest
Prompt: #15
Time-period / theme: Hogwarts Era
Place: Broom Closet/Cupboard
Object / word prompts: Wizard chess
Action: Instead of the cliché "Draco/Harry stuck in a closet, and fall in love", and having Ron be the only obstacle to their happiness, how about a twist! Draco and Ron get stuck in a closet. Ron learns two things:
1.) Draco isn't really that bad a guy
2.) Draco is in love with Harry.
How did he find this out? What will he do? That's up to you! =D
Word Count: 10,810
Rating: PG-13
Betas: dacian_goddess, fat_teaspoon (thanks, darling!)
Author's Notes: I hope this is true to the spirit of the prompt, if not exactly the letter. AU after Deathly Hallows, ignoring epilogue. Thank you to alaana_fair for her time, patience and concrit which was instrumental in shaping this fic in the early stages.
Summary: Draco + Ron + A Cupboard = Exciting Discoveries. A Harry/Draco romance with some entirely unnecessary classical flourishes. No actual Draco/Ron occurs.
Harry’s bottom was beginning to go numb from sitting down for so long. He sighed. If the castle was going to keep them there ‘til they reached an understanding they might be in there for years. He supposed he should go and tell Hermione that Ron was safe. Maybe not tell her that he was locked in a cupboard until he and Malfoy sorted out their differences because she’d probably worry. But he could say that he was doing some extra Quidditch coaching or something. Harry cast Finite Incantatem and stood up.
“We’ve missed dinner.” Draco turned his head to face Weasley as he spoke. It seemed there was a limit on how long Weasley could stay silent for and they’d reached it.
“You don’t say.” He sighed. “Try asking the room for some food. I have a feeling it works along the same lines of the Room of Requirement.” Two plates piled with dinner popped into existence on top of a coffee table. Draco concentrated. A bottle of Firewhisky and two glasses joined them. Weasley looked curiously at them. He shrugged, elegantly. “I thought we might need some social lubrication to get to the caring and understanding part. Failing that, if I do have to bugger you I don’t want to be entirely sober for it.”
“Shut up. If either of us is doing any buggering it’s definitely going to be me.” Ron determinedly did not look at Draco as he said this.
Draco just looked amused and started eating. As soon as their plates were empty, they vanished. Draco put his feet back up on the footstool and stared straight ahead. Ron also looked at the wall that was trapping them. “Let’s get on with it.”
“Let’s get on with what?” Draco looked disinterested. He poured himself a hefty glass of Firewhisky.
“Well, the sooner we, you know, the sooner we get out of here. And as I don’t want to spend the rest of my time at Hogwarts, never mind the rest of my life in here, let’s get to the understanding.” Ron sounded like anything would be preferable to reaching understanding with him and he reached for the bottle.
“Right. And your suggestion for overcoming years of enmity to reach a beautiful harmonious place of love is what exactly?” The arched eyebrow had returned.
Ron humphed. Then his face lit up. Draco wondered how he’d managed to survive the war when he so clearly telegraphed his emotions. “Wizard chess!”
Draco arched his eyebrow impossibly higher. “Wizard chess?”
“Yes! We play, and every time we lose a piece, the other person gets to ask a question and we have to answer honestly!” Weasley seemed to think his idea was brilliant. A wizard chess set appeared on the coffee table.
Draco sighed. “No.”
“No? It’s a brilliant idea! The room thinks so otherwise it wouldn’t have provided the chess set.”
“No.” Draco was chagrined to have to admit this. “Wizard chess is not one of my many talents. So you’ll get to ask far more questions than I will, and that doesn’t seem very fair.”
Weasley looked put out. “Fine. Exploding Snap. More chance than skill. Can’t say fairer than that.” A pack of cards appeared next to the chess set.
Draco looked determined. “No. Games are not where my abilities lie, Weasley.”
“What did you do as a child then?” He looked puzzled and genuinely curious.
“Read, Weasley. Read and had lessons and learnt about my magical heritage.” He sipped his drink to try and mask his expression.
“Oh.” Draco was surprised to see what looked like sympathy on the other boy’s face.
Weasley started rummaging in his bag enthusiastically. “Ha! I knew I had it somewhere.” Triumphantly he held up a fifty pence piece.
Despite himself, Draco was curious. “What’s that?”
“It’s Muggle money. Look, it says, fifty pence.” Weasley was examining it carefully. “Harry was given it as a Christmas present by his horrible relatives in our first year. He gave it to me and I found it in my trunk the other day. I put it in my bag. I like it. It’s a funny shape.”
Draco held his hand out. Weasley dropped the coin into it and he looked at it closely. “It is a funny shape. It must be valuable if it was Potter’s Christmas present from his adoring family.”
Ron looked confused. “Er, no. Harry’s relatives hated him. I think Harry said it was worth about…” Ron screwed up his face trying to remember. “I think it’s one Sickle and twenty Knuts.”
He was surprised. The Golden Boy was given that as his Christmas present? “Surely they gave him other stuff too?”
“That year I think he got a pair of old socks as well.” Ron looked angry. “Anyway, the point is that Muggle money is weighted evenly. So if you throw a coin for long enough it will come out the same amount on one side as the other, Dean told me. That’s why they throw a coin before they play football.”
“They throw a coin before they play… what? And throw it where?” Draco got more curious. He had realised that he knew almost nothing about Muggles other than this father’s spiel about their general incompetence.
“Football. It’s like Quidditch only there’s one ball and no flying. So I guess it isn’t that much like Quidditch. Dean makes us play it sometimes in summer. It’s dead fun. Anyway. The point is that one side of the coin has the Queen’s head on it,” Draco turned the coin over, “see? And the other side has her Toes on it. Or something.”
Draco thought Muggles were peculiar. That didn’t look very much like someone’s toes. “So?”
“So, according to Dean if you toss off the coin 100 times, 50 times it will land Queen and 50 times it will land Toes. It’s all about Muggle maths and probability or something. I dunno, Dean tried to explain it once, but I didn’t really get it. Anyway, if you’re so bothered about fairness, we’ll do that. Then we’ll both have to answer the same amount of questions and then we’ll get out of here.”
Draco agreed that did sound reasonable. Ron asked, “Queen or Toes?”
“Queen.” Draco sat up regally.
Weasley snickered. “Figures. Right, I’ll be Toes then.” He tossed the coin. “The side facing upwards is either Queen or Toes. See?” Weasley demonstrated again. “You try so we both do it. Don’t want you to accuse me of fixing it, even though that’s impossible.”
Draco tried and the coin flew up, hit the ceiling and landed on the coffee table. “Maybe a bit more gently?” Ron suggested, holding in his laugh. After a little while he got the hang of it.
“Right, so we ask each other questions, and we have to answer honestly, and then we reach a place of understanding and then we can leave?” Draco looked uncomfortable and sipped his drink.
“That’s the plan, yes.” Ron was trying to make the coin spin on its points on the coffee table.
He stared at the wall looking disgruntled. It was a hideous plan, full of entirely unnecessary honesty and lots of sharing of emotions. He hated it. And with Weasley, of all people. He could think of some people, well, one person, who he wouldn’t mind revealing his true self to. But Weasley? Then again, the alternative was being stuck here for the rest of his life. With Weasley. Short term discomfort did seem the less horrendous option.
“Fine. But what we say in this room goes no further. I’m not having you spilling everything I might or might not say to the entire school.” Draco looked resigned.
“Fine. Same to you. Shall I toss off first?” Ron turned to face him.
Draco suppressed a smile. “Be my guest.”
“It’s Toes. That means you get to ask me something, and I have to answer.” Ron looked a little worried.
Harry returned from fibbing to Hermione about Ron’s whereabouts. He hoped he hadn’t missed anything too exciting. He recast the eavesdropping spell and the privacy bubble and covered himself with his cloak.
Draco thought. He realised that he didn’t actually want to know very much about Weasley. He didn’t imagine that they would ever be friends, but if things went as he fantasised then they would have to interact. He metaphorically slapped himself. He didn’t have a chance with stupid Potter so there was no point thinking about it. All the questions he could think of to ask Weasley were about Harry, not him. And Weasley might be dense but eventually he would catch on. Draco sighed. The only thing to do seemed to be to feign interest in Weasley and try to slip in some Harry questions. He wracked his brain to think of something he could ask him. “Why were you never punished for all your rule breaking?”
Weasley looked surprised. Obviously that wasn’t what he was expecting. “Er, well we were punished, all of us. I dread to think how many points we’ve lost for Gryffindor all together. And I’ve had tons of detentions with Filch. But the thing is, we didn’t break rules just for the hell of it. We were generally battling Voldemort. So on the whole, the end justified the means and I suppose that’s why. That and the fact that Dumbledore needed Harry. He couldn’t have expelled him, and he wouldn’t have expelled us. Your turn.”
Draco tossed the coin. “Toes.” He held out his hand as proof. “Me again. Is it true you abandoned Potter and Granger last year?”
Ron blushed. “Yeah. My turn. Queen!” He didn’t need any time to think about it. “Do you have the mark?”
Draco sneered at him. “No. Honestly. The mark was reserved for Voldemort’s inner circle.” He didn’t hesitate in using his name. “I was never among that number.” Weasley looked sceptical so Draco pushed up the sleeves of his robe, exposing both his forearms. “Happy now?”
“But...” he started to protest.
“No more questions ‘til we throw another Queen.” Draco flicked the coin. “Toes. What do you mean Potter’s relatives hated him? Everybody loves the Golden Boy?”
Outside Harry cringed. Not only did he hate that nickname but he really didn’t want Malfoy finding that out about him from Ron. He hated talking about the Dursleys, and he really didn’t like the idea of Ron talking about it.
“Er, well after, you know, Dumbledore left Harry with his mum’s sister. She and her husband hated magic, thought it was unnatural, and hated him. He used to have to live in the cupboard under the stairs and they treated him like a house elf. I’m not saying any more. It’s Harry’s story, not mine.” Weasley folded his arms determinedly.
Harry sighed. It could have been worse, he supposed. Ron hadn’t said anything too terrible and he answered enough to satiate Malfoy’s curiosity but not anything desperately secret. He was once again grateful to his friend.
Ron tossed the fifty pence. “Toes.”
Draco smirked, but inwardly he was running out of things he wanted to know. A shameful bit of inspiration struck. He mumbled, “Is your brother ok?”
Ron looked confused. “Which brother?”
Draco’s eyes widened. He had no idea what his name was. He thought about it and he realised he didn’t even know how many boy Weasleys there were. He took a gulp of Firewhisky. “The one Greyback mauled.”
Ron turned to face Draco appraisingly. “He’s fine. Now likes his steaks revoltingly rare, but he thinks the scars match his earring and his wife thinks they make him look dashing.”
Draco concentrated on tossing the coin to try and give the red spots he was sure had formed on his cheekbones time to disappear. “Queen,” he said resignedly. No matter how fair the game they played was, he still had more secrets than Weasley and he didn’t want to share them.
Ron asked immediately. He seemed to have a list of prepared questions. “Why didn’t you give me, Hermione and Harry away when the Snatchers took us to the manor?”
“I didn’t want you to die. I wanted you to live and beat Voldemort and save us all.” Draco looked miserable at admitting that.
Weasley looked surprised but knew he couldn’t ask anything else until another Queen came up.
Sitting in the corridor, Harry straightened up. When he’d testified for Malfoy he presented the evidence so that was the conclusion he’d prodded the Wizengamot towards, but he’d always wondered whether or not it was how Malfoy perceived it. He didn’t really see how else his actions could be interpreted but he was interested and pleased to have it confirmed.
Ron tossed the coin. He sighed. “Toes.”
Malfoy knew what he wanted to ask. “Why did you and Potter rescue me and Greg from the Fiendfyre?”
Ron looked at him. “Harry didn’t want you to die either. He thought you were worth saving. He says that Dumbledore thought you were worth saving, and so does he.”
Draco was astonished. He took a long contemplative sip of his drink. Harry… Potter, he corrected himself, thought he was worth saving? He tossed the coin absent-mindedly. “Queen. Your question.”
“Why do you hate Harry and us so much?” Ron looked belligerent again.
“I don’t. I haven’t for a long time.” Draco downed the rest of his drink.
“Since when?” Ron just looked confused.
“No more questions, Weasley. It’s your turn to throw.”
Ron grunted in what might have been agreement and tossed the coin. “Queen. Since when?”
Draco poured himself another drink. “Since the Triwizard Tournament.” He took the coin and tossed it. “Queen.” He said, sighing.
“Why have you stopped being horrible this year?” Ron had shifted his chair slightly and he was looking at him with an almost friendly expression on his face.
Draco knew his bewilderment must be showing on his face. Surely the Weasel could not genuinely be this dense? “I am trying for atonement, redemption, whatever you want to call it. My father’s stupid decision to follow Voldemort has ruined my family, and I made a series of colossal mistakes. I’m also on probation, and as such, pranks, brawling and other ridiculous things are somewhat frowned upon.” He finished his drink, poured another one and drank that too. He thought the Firewhisky must be doing its job for him to say that to Weasley.
Ron looked shocked. He also gulped down his drink and poured another measure. “Oh. You know what, Malfoy, I’m bored of this.”
Draco looked up, sharply. “Thanks very much, but being stuck in a cupboard with you isn’t much fun for me either!” He felt, bizarrely, slightly hurt.
Ron sighed. “Not that. I’m bored of hating you because you were a git. For several years, okay, but you’re not that much of a prat anymore. Hermione and Harry keep going on about how for our shiny post war world to mean anything it has to come with fresh starts for everyone, and apparently that includes you. I guess I see what they mean now.”
Ron finished his drink, stood up, and stuck out his hand. Draco was struck by a sudden vision of how the tendency to make instantaneous judgements about people that he’d always regarded as a weakness might look like a strength from another perspective.
He stood up too, reached his hand out and shook Ron’s.
As they let go of each other’s hand, the furniture disappeared and a doorway appeared in the stone. Draco snorted. The castle couldn’t be more cloyingly sentimental if it tried. “After you, Weasley. Aren’t you glad we never had to try plan B?”
Harry heard the grinding of stone and leapt up. He was just able to get himself and his cloak to the other side of the corridor before a doorway appeared.
He saw Ron and Malfoy nod to each other before heading off in opposite directions. Harry stood, transfixed by all that he’d heard and knowing he’d never beat Ron to the common room. He decided to linger awhile then claim to have been in the library instead.
Harry was staring at Malfoy at breakfast the next morning with a stupid grin on his face. Ron looked over to him and shook his head. “Mate?”
“Yeah?” Harry didn’t look away from the Slytherin table.
“Why don’t you ask Malfoy out for a drink? Every weekend’s a Hogsmeade weekend for us lofty eighth years.”
Harry didn’t have to fake his astonishment. He knew that Ron and Malfoy had come to some sort of understanding in the cupboard last night, but this was still unexpected. “Umm, what?”
“Look, I don’t hate him anymore, alright? I told you what happened last night. And you don’t stare at anyone else like you stare at him, and frankly, I think he might like you too. I mean, if it were up to me to choose your boyfriends, I’d recommend Charlie or even that Finch-Fletchley or anyone really, but it’s not. And I think you should do what makes you happy, even if that happens to be Malfoy.”
Harry looked at Ron carefully. He looked resigned but genuine. “You know, that’s not a bad idea. I might just do that.” Figuring that jumping straight in was a strategy that had served him well in the past, Harry shoved the rest of his piece of toast in his mouth when he saw Malfoy getting up to leave the Great Hall.
He caught up with him in the entrance hall. “Malfoy, hi!”
“Good morning Potter.” If Malfoy was surprised at being accosted by Harry first thing in the morning he didn’t show it.
Harry smiled then looked down at his shoes. “So, umm, I was wondering….” he paused. Then he straightened up, as if he’d gathered up his resolve, and looked right at Malfoy’s face. “Would you like to go for a drink with me tonight?”
Draco looked stunned. “Yes.”
Harry grinned and Draco smiled faintly back. “Meet you here at eight?”
“Okay.” Harry smiled. Turns out he wasn’t the only person who sometimes lost their eloquence.
“Okay.” Harry grinned again. “Going to Transfiguration?”
“Yeah.” Draco still looked bemused.
“I’ll walk with you, then.” Swinging his bag over his shoulder he set off.
That evening, Ron watched Harry ransack his wardrobe twice before he decided reinforcements were necessary. He dragged Hermione from the sofa by the fire and her book and asked her to pick Harry an outfit. The day they’d done their school shopping in Diagon Alley she’d taken them both into Muggle London and helped him buy his own clothes. She picked out the black leather jacket Harry had fallen in love with and imagined Sirius would have worn, and put it together with a pure white t-shirt, black jeans and his black dragonhide boots.
After Harry had asked if he’d looked alright for the fourth time, Hermione looked like she was ready to crack. Instead, she asked gently, “You fancy him, don’t you?”
“No! Yes! A little bit! Alright, a lot!”
“Well, I think you could be great together. Try some of that Gryffindor bravery you’re so famous for. What have you got to lose?”
Harry buried his head in his hands. “My dignity?”
Hermione smiled. “Harry, can I give you some advice?”
Harry looked up at her. “Please do.”
“Be honest with Draco.” She smiled.
“How do I look?” He was fiddling with his belt buckle.
“Gorgeous.” Ron noticed her smiling encouragingly at him and he took the hint that he was supposed to join in.
“Very smart, Harry.” He looked at Hermione pleadingly. Was that a suitable compliment? He felt entirely out of his depth.
Harry grimaced. “You’re my best friends; you’re obliged to say that!”
Harry was waiting nervously in the entrance hall at ten to eight. By eight o’clock he’d counted all the paving stones and convinced himself Draco was going to stand him up. When Draco arrived at one minute past he grinned in relief. Draco was wearing black woollen trousers and a soft grey slim fitting jumper. He carried his cloak.
“You, er, look great.”
Draco looked surprised and pleased. “As do you Potter. Very bad boy in that jacket.”
“Shall we…?”
“Let’s.”
They chatted slightly awkwardly about their lessons on the way to Hogsmeade. When they arrived in the village, Harry pointed to a new bar that had opened over the summer. “I thought we could check it out?” He’d deliberately not chosen The Three Broomsticks and he thought Draco looked relieved.
Draco nodded. When they’d got their drinks and sat down at a table Harry remembered Hermione’s advice. He knew if the situations were reversed he’d want Draco to tell him that he’d heard everything. He took a deep breath and spoke.
“Draco, I have to tell you something.” Malfoy’s relaxed features instantly tensed and his face shuttered back to its blank mask. Harry was astonished to realise that he’d never before worked out this was Draco’s defence mechanism. Privately he resolved to spend all his time seeking out relaxed Draco. “It’s nothing bad. Or at least, I hope not.” Draco seemed to unbend a little.
“I know about you and Ron getting trapped together. Anyway I sort of worked out where you were, and I was, well, I was nosy about what you were doing so I threw every spell I could think of at the wall, but the only one that worked was this eavesdropping one.” Seeing Draco’s shocked face, Harry trailed off.
“You heard that excruciating twenty questions Queen or Toes rubbish?” Draco looked both annoyed and a little embarrassed.
“Er, yeah.” Harry was a little puzzled. Nothing incriminating had been revealed. He decided just to be courageous. “The thing is Draco, I really like you. And everything I heard only made me like you more. And I’d really like it if we could be friends, but I’d really really like it if we could try being more.” After he said that Harry realised he’d been so carried away in being brave he didn’t even know if Malfoy was gay. He was mortified. Maybe Malfoy thought this was friends having a drink not a date and was desperately uncomfortable that Harry had just… oh... He nearly didn’t hear Malfoy reply, so caught up in his self loathing.
Draco coughed. “But, er, the Weas… Ginny?”
“We broke up. Well, I suppose, we never really got back together.” Harry resisted the urge to punch the air. Things were looking up. He hadn’t hexed him or expressed revulsion at Harry’s declaration.
“And you’re gay?” Draco looked bemused, but not unhappy, Harry thought.
“Hence the not getting back together. I mean she’s great. But she’s a girl. And I like men. I like you.” Harry looked straight across the table into Draco’s eyes. “Er, you’re gay too, right?”
Draco unsuccessfully tried to hide his smile. “Yes, Potter, I am gay. I thought everyone knew that.” Harry looked relieved. “You didn’t know that? You asked me on a date then told me you wanted to be more than friends without first ascertaining I was gay?”
Harry thought Draco sounded faintly admiring. “Yeah? Potentially foolhardy now I think it through.” Harry finished his drink. “Why don’t we go for a walk and talk somewhere more private?”
Draco nodded and gathered up his cloak. Harry held the door open for him, and then reached for his hand. Draco started, but then grasped it and interlinked their fingers. They walked through the Hogwarts gates and headed to the lake. “It won’t be easy, you know.” Draco said suddenly, lifting their interlinked hands.
“I know. Let’s sit.”
Draco’s lips moved into what Harry was amused to see could only be described as a pout. “Potter, the ground’s damp!”
Harry conjured a blanket and cast warming charms. “Better?”
Draco smiled. “Much. Thank you.” They sat down side by side, legs outstretched, thighs touching.
“You’re welcome. And I know it won’t be easy. But easy’s overrated I’ve always thought. And you’re clever and occasionally witty and mind-meltingly beautiful. And you’re trying so hard to make amends and it’s admirable. And I’d be honoured to be your boyfriend, even if you do call Heads or Tails Queen or Toes.”
“You think I’m beautiful?” Harry hadn’t known that shy was part of Draco’s character until that moment.
“Inside and out.”
For the first time, Draco felt he might be worthy of Potter. Potter seemed to think so, and arguing with him had never worked out for him before. Instead of gushing and cuddling puppies and heaven forbid, singing, all of which he felt like doing, he smirked. “No need to get soppy about it, Potter.”
Harry beamed at him. “I think you secretly like soppiness, Draco.”
“I do not! I like presents and kisses, both of which I expect plenty of!” Draco felt himself pouting. Pouting! He was sure Malfoys were not supposed to pout.
“Is that so?” Draco shivered at the low timbre of his voice and its suggestive tone. “I suggest you come here then.” Harry opened his legs and Draco scrambled into the vee he created, draping his legs over Harry’s thighs and holding on to his shoulders. Harry gently put his hands on Draco’s hips.
Draco exhaled with a gentle “Harry”, and something in his voice or face spurred Harry on from just gazing at him. They both closed their eyes and their lips met in the gentlest of touches. Draco was amazed at how peaceful he felt, cocooned in Harry’s warmth. With each tiny tender kiss it was as if his shattered post war self was knitting back together. Then Harry darted his tongue out to lick along Draco’s lower lip and Draco couldn’t contain his moan at the surge of desire that pulsed through him. He brought his hands up to tangle in Harry’s messy hair, absently noticing how soft it was, and he tentatively licked at Harry’s parted lips. Harry opened his mouth wider and let Draco in. He hummed in delight and the vibrations made Draco smile against his lips. If Potter’s vision of his post war world included plenty of this, then Draco thought there might be a place for him in it after all.
fin
Part I
Author: alovelycupoftea
Gift Fic For: eowyn_rain in hd_smoochfest
Prompt: #15
Time-period / theme: Hogwarts Era
Place: Broom Closet/Cupboard
Object / word prompts: Wizard chess
Action: Instead of the cliché "Draco/Harry stuck in a closet, and fall in love", and having Ron be the only obstacle to their happiness, how about a twist! Draco and Ron get stuck in a closet. Ron learns two things:
1.) Draco isn't really that bad a guy
2.) Draco is in love with Harry.
How did he find this out? What will he do? That's up to you! =D
Word Count: 10,810
Rating: PG-13
Betas: dacian_goddess, fat_teaspoon (thanks, darling!)
Author's Notes: I hope this is true to the spirit of the prompt, if not exactly the letter. AU after Deathly Hallows, ignoring epilogue. Thank you to alaana_fair for her time, patience and concrit which was instrumental in shaping this fic in the early stages.
Summary: Draco + Ron + A Cupboard = Exciting Discoveries. A Harry/Draco romance with some entirely unnecessary classical flourishes. No actual Draco/Ron occurs.
Harry’s bottom was beginning to go numb from sitting down for so long. He sighed. If the castle was going to keep them there ‘til they reached an understanding they might be in there for years. He supposed he should go and tell Hermione that Ron was safe. Maybe not tell her that he was locked in a cupboard until he and Malfoy sorted out their differences because she’d probably worry. But he could say that he was doing some extra Quidditch coaching or something. Harry cast Finite Incantatem and stood up.
“We’ve missed dinner.” Draco turned his head to face Weasley as he spoke. It seemed there was a limit on how long Weasley could stay silent for and they’d reached it.
“You don’t say.” He sighed. “Try asking the room for some food. I have a feeling it works along the same lines of the Room of Requirement.” Two plates piled with dinner popped into existence on top of a coffee table. Draco concentrated. A bottle of Firewhisky and two glasses joined them. Weasley looked curiously at them. He shrugged, elegantly. “I thought we might need some social lubrication to get to the caring and understanding part. Failing that, if I do have to bugger you I don’t want to be entirely sober for it.”
“Shut up. If either of us is doing any buggering it’s definitely going to be me.” Ron determinedly did not look at Draco as he said this.
Draco just looked amused and started eating. As soon as their plates were empty, they vanished. Draco put his feet back up on the footstool and stared straight ahead. Ron also looked at the wall that was trapping them. “Let’s get on with it.”
“Let’s get on with what?” Draco looked disinterested. He poured himself a hefty glass of Firewhisky.
“Well, the sooner we, you know, the sooner we get out of here. And as I don’t want to spend the rest of my time at Hogwarts, never mind the rest of my life in here, let’s get to the understanding.” Ron sounded like anything would be preferable to reaching understanding with him and he reached for the bottle.
“Right. And your suggestion for overcoming years of enmity to reach a beautiful harmonious place of love is what exactly?” The arched eyebrow had returned.
Ron humphed. Then his face lit up. Draco wondered how he’d managed to survive the war when he so clearly telegraphed his emotions. “Wizard chess!”
Draco arched his eyebrow impossibly higher. “Wizard chess?”
“Yes! We play, and every time we lose a piece, the other person gets to ask a question and we have to answer honestly!” Weasley seemed to think his idea was brilliant. A wizard chess set appeared on the coffee table.
Draco sighed. “No.”
“No? It’s a brilliant idea! The room thinks so otherwise it wouldn’t have provided the chess set.”
“No.” Draco was chagrined to have to admit this. “Wizard chess is not one of my many talents. So you’ll get to ask far more questions than I will, and that doesn’t seem very fair.”
Weasley looked put out. “Fine. Exploding Snap. More chance than skill. Can’t say fairer than that.” A pack of cards appeared next to the chess set.
Draco looked determined. “No. Games are not where my abilities lie, Weasley.”
“What did you do as a child then?” He looked puzzled and genuinely curious.
“Read, Weasley. Read and had lessons and learnt about my magical heritage.” He sipped his drink to try and mask his expression.
“Oh.” Draco was surprised to see what looked like sympathy on the other boy’s face.
Weasley started rummaging in his bag enthusiastically. “Ha! I knew I had it somewhere.” Triumphantly he held up a fifty pence piece.
Despite himself, Draco was curious. “What’s that?”
“It’s Muggle money. Look, it says, fifty pence.” Weasley was examining it carefully. “Harry was given it as a Christmas present by his horrible relatives in our first year. He gave it to me and I found it in my trunk the other day. I put it in my bag. I like it. It’s a funny shape.”
Draco held his hand out. Weasley dropped the coin into it and he looked at it closely. “It is a funny shape. It must be valuable if it was Potter’s Christmas present from his adoring family.”
Ron looked confused. “Er, no. Harry’s relatives hated him. I think Harry said it was worth about…” Ron screwed up his face trying to remember. “I think it’s one Sickle and twenty Knuts.”
He was surprised. The Golden Boy was given that as his Christmas present? “Surely they gave him other stuff too?”
“That year I think he got a pair of old socks as well.” Ron looked angry. “Anyway, the point is that Muggle money is weighted evenly. So if you throw a coin for long enough it will come out the same amount on one side as the other, Dean told me. That’s why they throw a coin before they play football.”
“They throw a coin before they play… what? And throw it where?” Draco got more curious. He had realised that he knew almost nothing about Muggles other than this father’s spiel about their general incompetence.
“Football. It’s like Quidditch only there’s one ball and no flying. So I guess it isn’t that much like Quidditch. Dean makes us play it sometimes in summer. It’s dead fun. Anyway. The point is that one side of the coin has the Queen’s head on it,” Draco turned the coin over, “see? And the other side has her Toes on it. Or something.”
Draco thought Muggles were peculiar. That didn’t look very much like someone’s toes. “So?”
“So, according to Dean if you toss off the coin 100 times, 50 times it will land Queen and 50 times it will land Toes. It’s all about Muggle maths and probability or something. I dunno, Dean tried to explain it once, but I didn’t really get it. Anyway, if you’re so bothered about fairness, we’ll do that. Then we’ll both have to answer the same amount of questions and then we’ll get out of here.”
Draco agreed that did sound reasonable. Ron asked, “Queen or Toes?”
“Queen.” Draco sat up regally.
Weasley snickered. “Figures. Right, I’ll be Toes then.” He tossed the coin. “The side facing upwards is either Queen or Toes. See?” Weasley demonstrated again. “You try so we both do it. Don’t want you to accuse me of fixing it, even though that’s impossible.”
Draco tried and the coin flew up, hit the ceiling and landed on the coffee table. “Maybe a bit more gently?” Ron suggested, holding in his laugh. After a little while he got the hang of it.
“Right, so we ask each other questions, and we have to answer honestly, and then we reach a place of understanding and then we can leave?” Draco looked uncomfortable and sipped his drink.
“That’s the plan, yes.” Ron was trying to make the coin spin on its points on the coffee table.
He stared at the wall looking disgruntled. It was a hideous plan, full of entirely unnecessary honesty and lots of sharing of emotions. He hated it. And with Weasley, of all people. He could think of some people, well, one person, who he wouldn’t mind revealing his true self to. But Weasley? Then again, the alternative was being stuck here for the rest of his life. With Weasley. Short term discomfort did seem the less horrendous option.
“Fine. But what we say in this room goes no further. I’m not having you spilling everything I might or might not say to the entire school.” Draco looked resigned.
“Fine. Same to you. Shall I toss off first?” Ron turned to face him.
Draco suppressed a smile. “Be my guest.”
“It’s Toes. That means you get to ask me something, and I have to answer.” Ron looked a little worried.
Harry returned from fibbing to Hermione about Ron’s whereabouts. He hoped he hadn’t missed anything too exciting. He recast the eavesdropping spell and the privacy bubble and covered himself with his cloak.
Draco thought. He realised that he didn’t actually want to know very much about Weasley. He didn’t imagine that they would ever be friends, but if things went as he fantasised then they would have to interact. He metaphorically slapped himself. He didn’t have a chance with stupid Potter so there was no point thinking about it. All the questions he could think of to ask Weasley were about Harry, not him. And Weasley might be dense but eventually he would catch on. Draco sighed. The only thing to do seemed to be to feign interest in Weasley and try to slip in some Harry questions. He wracked his brain to think of something he could ask him. “Why were you never punished for all your rule breaking?”
Weasley looked surprised. Obviously that wasn’t what he was expecting. “Er, well we were punished, all of us. I dread to think how many points we’ve lost for Gryffindor all together. And I’ve had tons of detentions with Filch. But the thing is, we didn’t break rules just for the hell of it. We were generally battling Voldemort. So on the whole, the end justified the means and I suppose that’s why. That and the fact that Dumbledore needed Harry. He couldn’t have expelled him, and he wouldn’t have expelled us. Your turn.”
Draco tossed the coin. “Toes.” He held out his hand as proof. “Me again. Is it true you abandoned Potter and Granger last year?”
Ron blushed. “Yeah. My turn. Queen!” He didn’t need any time to think about it. “Do you have the mark?”
Draco sneered at him. “No. Honestly. The mark was reserved for Voldemort’s inner circle.” He didn’t hesitate in using his name. “I was never among that number.” Weasley looked sceptical so Draco pushed up the sleeves of his robe, exposing both his forearms. “Happy now?”
“But...” he started to protest.
“No more questions ‘til we throw another Queen.” Draco flicked the coin. “Toes. What do you mean Potter’s relatives hated him? Everybody loves the Golden Boy?”
Outside Harry cringed. Not only did he hate that nickname but he really didn’t want Malfoy finding that out about him from Ron. He hated talking about the Dursleys, and he really didn’t like the idea of Ron talking about it.
“Er, well after, you know, Dumbledore left Harry with his mum’s sister. She and her husband hated magic, thought it was unnatural, and hated him. He used to have to live in the cupboard under the stairs and they treated him like a house elf. I’m not saying any more. It’s Harry’s story, not mine.” Weasley folded his arms determinedly.
Harry sighed. It could have been worse, he supposed. Ron hadn’t said anything too terrible and he answered enough to satiate Malfoy’s curiosity but not anything desperately secret. He was once again grateful to his friend.
Ron tossed the fifty pence. “Toes.”
Draco smirked, but inwardly he was running out of things he wanted to know. A shameful bit of inspiration struck. He mumbled, “Is your brother ok?”
Ron looked confused. “Which brother?”
Draco’s eyes widened. He had no idea what his name was. He thought about it and he realised he didn’t even know how many boy Weasleys there were. He took a gulp of Firewhisky. “The one Greyback mauled.”
Ron turned to face Draco appraisingly. “He’s fine. Now likes his steaks revoltingly rare, but he thinks the scars match his earring and his wife thinks they make him look dashing.”
Draco concentrated on tossing the coin to try and give the red spots he was sure had formed on his cheekbones time to disappear. “Queen,” he said resignedly. No matter how fair the game they played was, he still had more secrets than Weasley and he didn’t want to share them.
Ron asked immediately. He seemed to have a list of prepared questions. “Why didn’t you give me, Hermione and Harry away when the Snatchers took us to the manor?”
“I didn’t want you to die. I wanted you to live and beat Voldemort and save us all.” Draco looked miserable at admitting that.
Weasley looked surprised but knew he couldn’t ask anything else until another Queen came up.
Sitting in the corridor, Harry straightened up. When he’d testified for Malfoy he presented the evidence so that was the conclusion he’d prodded the Wizengamot towards, but he’d always wondered whether or not it was how Malfoy perceived it. He didn’t really see how else his actions could be interpreted but he was interested and pleased to have it confirmed.
Ron tossed the coin. He sighed. “Toes.”
Malfoy knew what he wanted to ask. “Why did you and Potter rescue me and Greg from the Fiendfyre?”
Ron looked at him. “Harry didn’t want you to die either. He thought you were worth saving. He says that Dumbledore thought you were worth saving, and so does he.”
Draco was astonished. He took a long contemplative sip of his drink. Harry… Potter, he corrected himself, thought he was worth saving? He tossed the coin absent-mindedly. “Queen. Your question.”
“Why do you hate Harry and us so much?” Ron looked belligerent again.
“I don’t. I haven’t for a long time.” Draco downed the rest of his drink.
“Since when?” Ron just looked confused.
“No more questions, Weasley. It’s your turn to throw.”
Ron grunted in what might have been agreement and tossed the coin. “Queen. Since when?”
Draco poured himself another drink. “Since the Triwizard Tournament.” He took the coin and tossed it. “Queen.” He said, sighing.
“Why have you stopped being horrible this year?” Ron had shifted his chair slightly and he was looking at him with an almost friendly expression on his face.
Draco knew his bewilderment must be showing on his face. Surely the Weasel could not genuinely be this dense? “I am trying for atonement, redemption, whatever you want to call it. My father’s stupid decision to follow Voldemort has ruined my family, and I made a series of colossal mistakes. I’m also on probation, and as such, pranks, brawling and other ridiculous things are somewhat frowned upon.” He finished his drink, poured another one and drank that too. He thought the Firewhisky must be doing its job for him to say that to Weasley.
Ron looked shocked. He also gulped down his drink and poured another measure. “Oh. You know what, Malfoy, I’m bored of this.”
Draco looked up, sharply. “Thanks very much, but being stuck in a cupboard with you isn’t much fun for me either!” He felt, bizarrely, slightly hurt.
Ron sighed. “Not that. I’m bored of hating you because you were a git. For several years, okay, but you’re not that much of a prat anymore. Hermione and Harry keep going on about how for our shiny post war world to mean anything it has to come with fresh starts for everyone, and apparently that includes you. I guess I see what they mean now.”
Ron finished his drink, stood up, and stuck out his hand. Draco was struck by a sudden vision of how the tendency to make instantaneous judgements about people that he’d always regarded as a weakness might look like a strength from another perspective.
He stood up too, reached his hand out and shook Ron’s.
As they let go of each other’s hand, the furniture disappeared and a doorway appeared in the stone. Draco snorted. The castle couldn’t be more cloyingly sentimental if it tried. “After you, Weasley. Aren’t you glad we never had to try plan B?”
Harry heard the grinding of stone and leapt up. He was just able to get himself and his cloak to the other side of the corridor before a doorway appeared.
He saw Ron and Malfoy nod to each other before heading off in opposite directions. Harry stood, transfixed by all that he’d heard and knowing he’d never beat Ron to the common room. He decided to linger awhile then claim to have been in the library instead.
Harry was staring at Malfoy at breakfast the next morning with a stupid grin on his face. Ron looked over to him and shook his head. “Mate?”
“Yeah?” Harry didn’t look away from the Slytherin table.
“Why don’t you ask Malfoy out for a drink? Every weekend’s a Hogsmeade weekend for us lofty eighth years.”
Harry didn’t have to fake his astonishment. He knew that Ron and Malfoy had come to some sort of understanding in the cupboard last night, but this was still unexpected. “Umm, what?”
“Look, I don’t hate him anymore, alright? I told you what happened last night. And you don’t stare at anyone else like you stare at him, and frankly, I think he might like you too. I mean, if it were up to me to choose your boyfriends, I’d recommend Charlie or even that Finch-Fletchley or anyone really, but it’s not. And I think you should do what makes you happy, even if that happens to be Malfoy.”
Harry looked at Ron carefully. He looked resigned but genuine. “You know, that’s not a bad idea. I might just do that.” Figuring that jumping straight in was a strategy that had served him well in the past, Harry shoved the rest of his piece of toast in his mouth when he saw Malfoy getting up to leave the Great Hall.
He caught up with him in the entrance hall. “Malfoy, hi!”
“Good morning Potter.” If Malfoy was surprised at being accosted by Harry first thing in the morning he didn’t show it.
Harry smiled then looked down at his shoes. “So, umm, I was wondering….” he paused. Then he straightened up, as if he’d gathered up his resolve, and looked right at Malfoy’s face. “Would you like to go for a drink with me tonight?”
Draco looked stunned. “Yes.”
Harry grinned and Draco smiled faintly back. “Meet you here at eight?”
“Okay.” Harry smiled. Turns out he wasn’t the only person who sometimes lost their eloquence.
“Okay.” Harry grinned again. “Going to Transfiguration?”
“Yeah.” Draco still looked bemused.
“I’ll walk with you, then.” Swinging his bag over his shoulder he set off.
That evening, Ron watched Harry ransack his wardrobe twice before he decided reinforcements were necessary. He dragged Hermione from the sofa by the fire and her book and asked her to pick Harry an outfit. The day they’d done their school shopping in Diagon Alley she’d taken them both into Muggle London and helped him buy his own clothes. She picked out the black leather jacket Harry had fallen in love with and imagined Sirius would have worn, and put it together with a pure white t-shirt, black jeans and his black dragonhide boots.
After Harry had asked if he’d looked alright for the fourth time, Hermione looked like she was ready to crack. Instead, she asked gently, “You fancy him, don’t you?”
“No! Yes! A little bit! Alright, a lot!”
“Well, I think you could be great together. Try some of that Gryffindor bravery you’re so famous for. What have you got to lose?”
Harry buried his head in his hands. “My dignity?”
Hermione smiled. “Harry, can I give you some advice?”
Harry looked up at her. “Please do.”
“Be honest with Draco.” She smiled.
“How do I look?” He was fiddling with his belt buckle.
“Gorgeous.” Ron noticed her smiling encouragingly at him and he took the hint that he was supposed to join in.
“Very smart, Harry.” He looked at Hermione pleadingly. Was that a suitable compliment? He felt entirely out of his depth.
Harry grimaced. “You’re my best friends; you’re obliged to say that!”
Harry was waiting nervously in the entrance hall at ten to eight. By eight o’clock he’d counted all the paving stones and convinced himself Draco was going to stand him up. When Draco arrived at one minute past he grinned in relief. Draco was wearing black woollen trousers and a soft grey slim fitting jumper. He carried his cloak.
“You, er, look great.”
Draco looked surprised and pleased. “As do you Potter. Very bad boy in that jacket.”
“Shall we…?”
“Let’s.”
They chatted slightly awkwardly about their lessons on the way to Hogsmeade. When they arrived in the village, Harry pointed to a new bar that had opened over the summer. “I thought we could check it out?” He’d deliberately not chosen The Three Broomsticks and he thought Draco looked relieved.
Draco nodded. When they’d got their drinks and sat down at a table Harry remembered Hermione’s advice. He knew if the situations were reversed he’d want Draco to tell him that he’d heard everything. He took a deep breath and spoke.
“Draco, I have to tell you something.” Malfoy’s relaxed features instantly tensed and his face shuttered back to its blank mask. Harry was astonished to realise that he’d never before worked out this was Draco’s defence mechanism. Privately he resolved to spend all his time seeking out relaxed Draco. “It’s nothing bad. Or at least, I hope not.” Draco seemed to unbend a little.
“I know about you and Ron getting trapped together. Anyway I sort of worked out where you were, and I was, well, I was nosy about what you were doing so I threw every spell I could think of at the wall, but the only one that worked was this eavesdropping one.” Seeing Draco’s shocked face, Harry trailed off.
“You heard that excruciating twenty questions Queen or Toes rubbish?” Draco looked both annoyed and a little embarrassed.
“Er, yeah.” Harry was a little puzzled. Nothing incriminating had been revealed. He decided just to be courageous. “The thing is Draco, I really like you. And everything I heard only made me like you more. And I’d really like it if we could be friends, but I’d really really like it if we could try being more.” After he said that Harry realised he’d been so carried away in being brave he didn’t even know if Malfoy was gay. He was mortified. Maybe Malfoy thought this was friends having a drink not a date and was desperately uncomfortable that Harry had just… oh... He nearly didn’t hear Malfoy reply, so caught up in his self loathing.
Draco coughed. “But, er, the Weas… Ginny?”
“We broke up. Well, I suppose, we never really got back together.” Harry resisted the urge to punch the air. Things were looking up. He hadn’t hexed him or expressed revulsion at Harry’s declaration.
“And you’re gay?” Draco looked bemused, but not unhappy, Harry thought.
“Hence the not getting back together. I mean she’s great. But she’s a girl. And I like men. I like you.” Harry looked straight across the table into Draco’s eyes. “Er, you’re gay too, right?”
Draco unsuccessfully tried to hide his smile. “Yes, Potter, I am gay. I thought everyone knew that.” Harry looked relieved. “You didn’t know that? You asked me on a date then told me you wanted to be more than friends without first ascertaining I was gay?”
Harry thought Draco sounded faintly admiring. “Yeah? Potentially foolhardy now I think it through.” Harry finished his drink. “Why don’t we go for a walk and talk somewhere more private?”
Draco nodded and gathered up his cloak. Harry held the door open for him, and then reached for his hand. Draco started, but then grasped it and interlinked their fingers. They walked through the Hogwarts gates and headed to the lake. “It won’t be easy, you know.” Draco said suddenly, lifting their interlinked hands.
“I know. Let’s sit.”
Draco’s lips moved into what Harry was amused to see could only be described as a pout. “Potter, the ground’s damp!”
Harry conjured a blanket and cast warming charms. “Better?”
Draco smiled. “Much. Thank you.” They sat down side by side, legs outstretched, thighs touching.
“You’re welcome. And I know it won’t be easy. But easy’s overrated I’ve always thought. And you’re clever and occasionally witty and mind-meltingly beautiful. And you’re trying so hard to make amends and it’s admirable. And I’d be honoured to be your boyfriend, even if you do call Heads or Tails Queen or Toes.”
“You think I’m beautiful?” Harry hadn’t known that shy was part of Draco’s character until that moment.
“Inside and out.”
For the first time, Draco felt he might be worthy of Potter. Potter seemed to think so, and arguing with him had never worked out for him before. Instead of gushing and cuddling puppies and heaven forbid, singing, all of which he felt like doing, he smirked. “No need to get soppy about it, Potter.”
Harry beamed at him. “I think you secretly like soppiness, Draco.”
“I do not! I like presents and kisses, both of which I expect plenty of!” Draco felt himself pouting. Pouting! He was sure Malfoys were not supposed to pout.
“Is that so?” Draco shivered at the low timbre of his voice and its suggestive tone. “I suggest you come here then.” Harry opened his legs and Draco scrambled into the vee he created, draping his legs over Harry’s thighs and holding on to his shoulders. Harry gently put his hands on Draco’s hips.
Draco exhaled with a gentle “Harry”, and something in his voice or face spurred Harry on from just gazing at him. They both closed their eyes and their lips met in the gentlest of touches. Draco was amazed at how peaceful he felt, cocooned in Harry’s warmth. With each tiny tender kiss it was as if his shattered post war self was knitting back together. Then Harry darted his tongue out to lick along Draco’s lower lip and Draco couldn’t contain his moan at the surge of desire that pulsed through him. He brought his hands up to tangle in Harry’s messy hair, absently noticing how soft it was, and he tentatively licked at Harry’s parted lips. Harry opened his mouth wider and let Draco in. He hummed in delight and the vibrations made Draco smile against his lips. If Potter’s vision of his post war world included plenty of this, then Draco thought there might be a place for him in it after all.
fin
Part I