Walk of Shame (15/?)
Title: Walk of Shame (15/?)
Author:
dracogotgame
Word Count: 3,000
Rating: R
Warning: Angst.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. This was written for fun, not profit.
Author's Notes: Part of the Walk of Shame Series.
The days that followed were disorienting. Draco went through his daily routine in a haze occasionally interspersed with moments of clarity. Given the way things were, he almost preferred being numb and distracted.
The days flew off the calendar, one by one. Draco was hovering in the kitchen, cradling a cup of coffee and warming his chilly hands, when he noticed it.
Four days to Christmas.
The thought made his heart twinge painfully. Of all the ways he’d pictured the coming of the season…he could never have imagined how things would actually turn out.
Harry was still distant with him. They weren’t fighting, not exactly. It was more of a stand-off. In some ways, it was worse. The weight of all the things that neither of them were saying was taking its toll on him. He could tell that Harry suspected something. He hadn’t bought the weak excuse Draco had come home with, and he knew something was up. But he wasn’t asking for explanations- not that Draco could have given him one if he did.
Meanwhile, the paranoia was becoming worse. With the rift between him and Harry growing deeper and wider everyday, his mind ran wild. The fear of Harry figuring everything out, the accusing silence stifling both of them, the nerve wracking anticipation of coming home one day and finding Harry gone…
He knew he was supposed to stall Harry. That was his part in this, the one thing he was supposed to do.
But how could he, when they weren’t even speaking to each other?
Perhaps he should be thankful for small mercies. At least, Harry wasn’t going anywhere. Draco had kept a subtle eye out for any sign of a getaway- a packed suitcase or something- but Harry remained stubbornly, silently here.
In the meantime, he had only heard from Weasley a scant few times. Draco absently fingered a piece of parchment- the last missive Weasley had sent him.
Still looking. Following up on lead.
Will write again.
-RW
PS: Destroy this.
Draco sighed and obediently cast an Incendio. The note withered away to ash. There was no point in taking chances- even with the special Charms Weasley used to conceal his messages. If Harry found out what they were doing…
Draco could only hope that Weasley had made some progress with Fletcher. The last he’d heard- during a hurried Floo Call- was that Fletcher had been spotted in a village west of Hogsmeade. Hopefully, the lead would pan out. If not, they were back at square one and Draco wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this up.
“Mew?”
He started as Adelaide suddenly pounced on a table, watching him with curious, green eyes. Draco managed a watery smile and stroked her from head to tail. She purred under his ministrations and bunted into his fingers. He wondered if she had cottoned on to the growing tension in the house. Probably, he figured. It was almost a palpable presence now, hot and stifling.
“I know, darling,” Draco murmured softly. “I know.”
His eyes drifted back to the bedroom. From where he was standing, he could just make out Harry’s unruly mop poking out from under the covers. Despite everything, the sight brought a small smile to his lips.
He padded to the bedroom, his feet moving before he’d even decided on what he was going to do next. He crept in silently, approaching the bed. The only sound in the room was Harry’s peaceful, even breathing.
For a moment or so, Draco just watched him. Even in his sleep, Harry seemed on his guard. His brow was furrowed and he was clenching the covers tight in one fist. His body was angled towards the door- just chance or a deliberate instinct to be nearest to the closest exit, it was hard to tell. He looked younger like this, Draco thought. His feelings were bubbling up again and he had to bite his lip to keep from speaking. There were things he couldn’t say, not just yet. Not even to his sleeping boyfriend in the safety of their shared bedroom.
I’m sorry. I love you. I’m scared. I’m sorry.
He couldn’t say any of it, but he couldn’t live like this any longer either. He needed something- a soft touch, a small gesture of comfort…anything to keep him going.
So he ignored the tightness in his chest and leaned forward, brushing his lips against Harry’s forehead. Harry frowned and stirred slightly, muttering something about reconnaissance in his sleep. Draco’s hands crept up to cradle his face, and his lips trailed downwards to meet Harry’s.
Green eyes opened- wary and alert at first glance, then settling on him. Harry made a small, sleepy sound of surprise but his hands moved at once, settling in place on Draco’s hips. His lips parted to return the kiss at once. It made Draco smile.
“Good morning,” he whispered.
“Morning,” Harry gruffed. He stifled a yawn and scrubbed a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. It was endearing and sweet and it made Draco want to kiss him more.
“Mm,” Harry managed, wrapping an arm around him to pull him closer. “So you’re finally speaking to me again?”
“I’m not the one who’s been pouting,” Draco retorted.
“Wasn’t pouting,” Harry grumbled. “I was brooding. Totally different thing.”
Draco nipped at his bottom lip to shut him up. When he broke away, Harry was smiling. Not his playful, relaxed smile…but it was something.
Something would just have to do.
“I don’t want to fight,” Draco whispered. Honestly, it was the last thing he wanted. Especially now, when everything was so wrong…
“Me neither,” Harry replied softly. He traced a gentle hand down the side of Draco’s face, coming to rest at his jawline. Harry sat up and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Clean slate?” he asked hopefully.
Draco nodded and wrapped his arms around him again.
Just another little lie, he thought bitterly.
But at least this one made Harry smile.
****
Harry didn’t join him in the Archives. In fact, he had decided to skip work altogether.
“I’m not up to researching right now, and it’s almost Christmas. I’ll hang out here,” he said, as he ushered Draco to the Floo. “You go on ahead. I’ll see you after work.”
Draco wasn’t even sure he heard him over the alarm bells ringing in his head. His heartbeat escalated, and he had to fight to keep a neutral expression as he nodded.
Was this it? Was Harry going to move out? What should he do? How was he supposed to stop him if he wasn’t even going to be here?
“I’ll have dinner ready by the time you get back,” Harry told him, still smiling.
Draco searched his expression-for anything that might be a tell. But Harry looked sincere as ever, smiling at him as he waited for Draco to leave. Was he lying? It certainly didn’t seem like it but then, as he kept reminding himself these days, Harry was a good liar.
He learned how to act like everything was just fine at a very young age.
Draco swallowed. He had to go. There was nothing for it.
“Promise,” he said softly.
Harry cocked his head. “What?”
Draco raised his chin, looking him straight in the eye. “Promise,” he repeated quietly.
Harry’s expression flickered just for a second. But then he was smiling and pressing a kiss to Draco’s cheek again.
“I promise I’ll have dinner ready by the time you come home,” he teased. “Now go. You’re running late.”
Draco left him with a kiss and a goodbye. He told himself, yet again, that there was nothing to worry about.
Not just yet.
But that didn’t stop him from casting a discreet Alarm Spell on the flat as he left.
If Harry did leave- by Floo or Apparition- at least he would know.
And Merlin as his witness, he would return and drag Harry back from whatever madness he’d planned to throw himself into.
Or die trying.
****
The day drifted by, painfully slow. Draco let his mind wander, just barely paying attention to what he was cataloguing. His beloved Library- normally a source of comfort and safety- was starting to close in on him. He could almost hear the walls shifting.
Draco took a deep breath and tossed his Quill. He scrubbed his face and ran his fingers through his hair. Nothing was helping. He still felt like he was bouncing off the walls.
Finally, he decided to walk down the aisles and check the shelves. There was nothing to sort out there, but with his fingers tracing the spines of dusty, old books, he found himself breathing a little easy.
Yet again, he discreetly checked the wards on his flat. The alarm hadn’t tripped. By all accounts, Harry was still there, safe and sound.
But did that mean anything? If Harry discovered the Spell, it would take him five seconds to dismantle the wards and rig them again. And Draco would be none the wiser.
It was happening, he realised. He was starting to lose his mind.
Draco took a deep breath and headed for the stairs. He might as well go to the DMLE and confer with Weasley. Assuming that he was in his office at all…
He had just passed his desk when a memo swooped in. Draco stared at it, eyes wide and breath suddenly short. He reached out with shaking hands and pulled it out of the air.
We got him.
Come to Saint Mungo’s.
Now.
Draco didn’t waste a second.
He tossed the memo away and ran for the fireplace.
It fluttered to the floor as he hurtled away.
****
He made an executive decision and headed for Granger’s office. There was a good chance, he thought, that Weasley had confided in his wife- why else would they be meeting here? He thought of them, of the trust between them. He was almost certain that Weasley hadn’t even thought twice before bringing her into a secret that might cost him his job.
He wondered if he and Harry would ever have something like that, and then he irritably brushed the thought away.
It didn’t matter right now.
What did matter was that Mundungus Fletcher was here, in St Mungo’s and he had no way of telling if that was good or bad.
The questions played in a loop in his head, constant and unrelenting until he was standing outside an innocuous white door.
Hermione Granger Weasley, Spell Damage Specialist.
Draco rapped sharply, three times in quick succession.
The door opened a fraction and he caught a glance of Granger’s bushy brown hair. She heaved a sigh of relief and stepped aside.
“In,” she ordered shortly.
Draco slipped past her without a word.
Weasley was seated at the small desk in the corner. He was holding his head in his hands.
This did not look good.
“Is he dead?” Draco asked in the silence.
His mind was running through all the scenarios he could think of. Weasley never found Fletcher. He found Fletcher but the man was dead. He found him alive and injured, Fletcher had died in Saint Mungo’s…
“He’s fine,” Weasley muttered. He raised his head to look at Draco. His eyes were bloodshot, his robes wrinkled and dirty. He looked like he’d been on a mission for days.
“He’s in the Healing Chambers,” Granger explained. “We’re still running tests.”
Draco whipped around to stare at her. “For what?” he demanded. “You said he was fine.”
“He is,” Weasley repeated. “He’s also been Obliviated.”
For a few moments, there was silence again. Draco gaped at both of them. “Obliviated?” he whispered.
His heart sank. All this, and in the end, what good was it? Fletcher couldn’t tell them anything now. It was all for nothing.
“It’s a good, clean job too,” Weasley added bitterly. “No damage, whatsoever. But anything about Harry or what they’ve been talking about? Gone. All of it.”
“Not gone,” Granger corrected at once.
Draco glanced at her, not even daring to hope.
“The memories aren’t gone, just suppressed,” Granger explained. “We might still be able to salvage something. Of course, the spell is practically permanent but given a little time…”
Time. The one thing they didn’t have.
“You’re going to have to stall him a bit longer,” Weasley told him. “Just until we figure out the next step.”
Draco nodded. It’s not like he could do anything else. What other choice was there?
“Yeah,” he said finally. “Yeah, I’ll…figure something out.”
They sat in silence for a while. Nobody seemed willing to say the one thing that was on all their minds. In the end, it was Granger who took the leap.
“It’s possible he Obliviated himself,” she said softly. Her brown eyes darted to Weasley, hesitant and worried. “But given the…the precision, it’s not likely.”
Draco swallowed. “Harry?”
Memory Spells weren’t illegal, not exactly. But it was definitely a grey area.
Granger looked away. “It was probably voluntary,” she hedged. “Mundungus must have asked him to. It would be the easiest way to keep his hands clean.”
“And what if he didn’t?” Weasley asked tonelessly. “What if Harry just decided it was too dangerous to leave any loose ends and…”
“Don’t,” Granger cut in. Her hand squeezed around Weasley’s, her knuckles white. “We don’t know, Ron. We just don’t know yet, okay?”
Draco wasn’t sure he could take more of this.
“Harry,” he muttered, holding his head in his hands. “Oh Harry, what are you doing?”
****
In the end, there was little they could do. Their roles were well defined.
Weasley needed to start investigating from scratch. Granger was doing whatever she could to recover the lost memories. And Draco…well, Draco knew his part of it.
It was with heavy hearts and sombre goodbyes that the unlikely company parted ways.
Draco braced himself as he landed with both feet squarely planted in his living room. He shook the soot out of his clothes and hair and looked up.
His eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat.
The flat looked…
Merlin.
Draco’s eyes travelled from the strings of fairy lights to the wreaths of holly, strung up in every nook and corner. A soft golden glow lit up the room. Draco looked up, just noticing the scores of golden orbs bouncing across his ceiling. Even the tree was all done- his favourite Christmas baubles twinkling in the branches.
“Surprise.”
Draco started as a pair of strong arms wrapped around him. Harry pressed a kiss to his nape.
“Sorry dinner’s not done,” he murmured. “I got a little carried away.”
“You did this?” Draco whispered softly.
“Mm hm. I figured it was time we got serious about the holidays. Do you like it?”
Draco nodded. “It’s beautiful,” he managed, despite the little waver in his voice. His emotions were all over the place, what with…before. And now Harry had gone and done something sweet and thoughtful all over again, and he just didn’t know what to think.
And right now, he didn’t want to.
He was so…done with everything. And the guilt was killing him. While he’d been out spying on his boyfriend, Harry had been putting this together for him.
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
He couldn’t say it out loud, but he could show Harry how he felt. He could…start putting all of this behind them.
He’s still here, he reminded himself. He isn’t gone yet. Everything will work out.
He turned in Harry’s arms and pressed their lips together. Harry hummed in approval and snaked an arm around him, holding him close.
“There we go,” he murmured. “I’ve missed you, Draco.”
“I’ve been right here.”
“No, you haven’t.” Harry pulled away, his smile soft and just a little sad. Draco’s heart clenched as Harry ran a gentle hand down his cheek. “I just…I might be wrong but I feel like you’ve been pulling away lately.”
Draco ducked his head, instinctively hiding his gaze from Harry. If he didn’t, if he kept looking into those searching green eyes, he would say something. He knew he would.
“I just want you to know,” Harry said, “that you have nothing to hide from me. I will never hurt you, Draco. No matter what.”
He knew that. There was…so much he wasn’t sure of, but that he knew.
“I know,” he murmured. “I’m sorry, Harry. I know.”
They kissed again, slow and soft, under the golden orbs.
“Let’s go out,” Harry suggested.
Draco was slow to return to reality. “Hm?” he asked, blinking dazedly and still half caught up in the kiss.
Harry smiled and bussed a kiss to his forehead. “Let me take you out,” he repeated. “Dinner, wine and a walk under the stars. It would be nice to get out of the flat for a while, yeah?”
Draco smiled back. It did sound nice. and he couldn’t deny Harry something so small. Not now. Not when things finally seemed…right after such a long time.
“Okay,” he conceded, pressing a kiss to Harry’s jaw. “Just give me a minute to change, yeah?”
He padded back to the bedroom with one last smile at Harry. And the sight of him smiling back made the whole, horrible day fade away to nothing.
****
What Draco didn’t see was how Harry’s smile faded as soon as the door shut.
Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before digging around in his pocket. The parchment unfurled- crumpled and torn at the corner- but he could still read the short, terse script clear as day.
We got him.
Come to Saint Mungo’s.
Now.
Ron.
Harry crumpled the note and tossed it in the flames. Honestly, it was just good fortune that he’d decided to surprise Draco at the Library. If he hadn’t…well.
It was too late to do anything but proceed, he decided.
His eyes flicked to the calendar, and he made a decision.
Tomorrow. December 22nd.
He would make sure Draco was out of the house, out of harm’s way. No matter what happened he couldn’t let his boyfriend get tangled up in this. Draco was…fragile, but fierce where it mattered. He wouldn’t let Harry go, he would fight him, make him try to stay. And Harry couldn’t let him.
He didn’t blame Draco for going behind his back. Not really. Besides, he’d known from the beginning that Ron would try to stop him. He always tried.
No, this wasn’t Draco’s fault. He couldn’t understand.
Nobody could understand.
But that was okay. It was, because Harry knew what needed to be done.
He just needed to make sure that he kept playing along- just enough to keep Draco from getting suspicious, just enough to keep Ron off his trail.
It would be over soon, he told himself. He would root the bastards out once and for all.
And this time, maybe this time, it would finally be enough.
Author:
dracogotgame
Word Count: 3,000
Rating: R
Warning: Angst.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. This was written for fun, not profit.
Author's Notes: Part of the Walk of Shame Series.
The days that followed were disorienting. Draco went through his daily routine in a haze occasionally interspersed with moments of clarity. Given the way things were, he almost preferred being numb and distracted.
The days flew off the calendar, one by one. Draco was hovering in the kitchen, cradling a cup of coffee and warming his chilly hands, when he noticed it.
Four days to Christmas.
The thought made his heart twinge painfully. Of all the ways he’d pictured the coming of the season…he could never have imagined how things would actually turn out.
Harry was still distant with him. They weren’t fighting, not exactly. It was more of a stand-off. In some ways, it was worse. The weight of all the things that neither of them were saying was taking its toll on him. He could tell that Harry suspected something. He hadn’t bought the weak excuse Draco had come home with, and he knew something was up. But he wasn’t asking for explanations- not that Draco could have given him one if he did.
Meanwhile, the paranoia was becoming worse. With the rift between him and Harry growing deeper and wider everyday, his mind ran wild. The fear of Harry figuring everything out, the accusing silence stifling both of them, the nerve wracking anticipation of coming home one day and finding Harry gone…
He knew he was supposed to stall Harry. That was his part in this, the one thing he was supposed to do.
But how could he, when they weren’t even speaking to each other?
Perhaps he should be thankful for small mercies. At least, Harry wasn’t going anywhere. Draco had kept a subtle eye out for any sign of a getaway- a packed suitcase or something- but Harry remained stubbornly, silently here.
In the meantime, he had only heard from Weasley a scant few times. Draco absently fingered a piece of parchment- the last missive Weasley had sent him.
Still looking. Following up on lead.
Will write again.
-RW
PS: Destroy this.
Draco sighed and obediently cast an Incendio. The note withered away to ash. There was no point in taking chances- even with the special Charms Weasley used to conceal his messages. If Harry found out what they were doing…
Draco could only hope that Weasley had made some progress with Fletcher. The last he’d heard- during a hurried Floo Call- was that Fletcher had been spotted in a village west of Hogsmeade. Hopefully, the lead would pan out. If not, they were back at square one and Draco wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this up.
“Mew?”
He started as Adelaide suddenly pounced on a table, watching him with curious, green eyes. Draco managed a watery smile and stroked her from head to tail. She purred under his ministrations and bunted into his fingers. He wondered if she had cottoned on to the growing tension in the house. Probably, he figured. It was almost a palpable presence now, hot and stifling.
“I know, darling,” Draco murmured softly. “I know.”
His eyes drifted back to the bedroom. From where he was standing, he could just make out Harry’s unruly mop poking out from under the covers. Despite everything, the sight brought a small smile to his lips.
He padded to the bedroom, his feet moving before he’d even decided on what he was going to do next. He crept in silently, approaching the bed. The only sound in the room was Harry’s peaceful, even breathing.
For a moment or so, Draco just watched him. Even in his sleep, Harry seemed on his guard. His brow was furrowed and he was clenching the covers tight in one fist. His body was angled towards the door- just chance or a deliberate instinct to be nearest to the closest exit, it was hard to tell. He looked younger like this, Draco thought. His feelings were bubbling up again and he had to bite his lip to keep from speaking. There were things he couldn’t say, not just yet. Not even to his sleeping boyfriend in the safety of their shared bedroom.
I’m sorry. I love you. I’m scared. I’m sorry.
He couldn’t say any of it, but he couldn’t live like this any longer either. He needed something- a soft touch, a small gesture of comfort…anything to keep him going.
So he ignored the tightness in his chest and leaned forward, brushing his lips against Harry’s forehead. Harry frowned and stirred slightly, muttering something about reconnaissance in his sleep. Draco’s hands crept up to cradle his face, and his lips trailed downwards to meet Harry’s.
Green eyes opened- wary and alert at first glance, then settling on him. Harry made a small, sleepy sound of surprise but his hands moved at once, settling in place on Draco’s hips. His lips parted to return the kiss at once. It made Draco smile.
“Good morning,” he whispered.
“Morning,” Harry gruffed. He stifled a yawn and scrubbed a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. It was endearing and sweet and it made Draco want to kiss him more.
“Mm,” Harry managed, wrapping an arm around him to pull him closer. “So you’re finally speaking to me again?”
“I’m not the one who’s been pouting,” Draco retorted.
“Wasn’t pouting,” Harry grumbled. “I was brooding. Totally different thing.”
Draco nipped at his bottom lip to shut him up. When he broke away, Harry was smiling. Not his playful, relaxed smile…but it was something.
Something would just have to do.
“I don’t want to fight,” Draco whispered. Honestly, it was the last thing he wanted. Especially now, when everything was so wrong…
“Me neither,” Harry replied softly. He traced a gentle hand down the side of Draco’s face, coming to rest at his jawline. Harry sat up and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Clean slate?” he asked hopefully.
Draco nodded and wrapped his arms around him again.
Just another little lie, he thought bitterly.
But at least this one made Harry smile.
****
Harry didn’t join him in the Archives. In fact, he had decided to skip work altogether.
“I’m not up to researching right now, and it’s almost Christmas. I’ll hang out here,” he said, as he ushered Draco to the Floo. “You go on ahead. I’ll see you after work.”
Draco wasn’t even sure he heard him over the alarm bells ringing in his head. His heartbeat escalated, and he had to fight to keep a neutral expression as he nodded.
Was this it? Was Harry going to move out? What should he do? How was he supposed to stop him if he wasn’t even going to be here?
“I’ll have dinner ready by the time you get back,” Harry told him, still smiling.
Draco searched his expression-for anything that might be a tell. But Harry looked sincere as ever, smiling at him as he waited for Draco to leave. Was he lying? It certainly didn’t seem like it but then, as he kept reminding himself these days, Harry was a good liar.
He learned how to act like everything was just fine at a very young age.
Draco swallowed. He had to go. There was nothing for it.
“Promise,” he said softly.
Harry cocked his head. “What?”
Draco raised his chin, looking him straight in the eye. “Promise,” he repeated quietly.
Harry’s expression flickered just for a second. But then he was smiling and pressing a kiss to Draco’s cheek again.
“I promise I’ll have dinner ready by the time you come home,” he teased. “Now go. You’re running late.”
Draco left him with a kiss and a goodbye. He told himself, yet again, that there was nothing to worry about.
Not just yet.
But that didn’t stop him from casting a discreet Alarm Spell on the flat as he left.
If Harry did leave- by Floo or Apparition- at least he would know.
And Merlin as his witness, he would return and drag Harry back from whatever madness he’d planned to throw himself into.
Or die trying.
****
The day drifted by, painfully slow. Draco let his mind wander, just barely paying attention to what he was cataloguing. His beloved Library- normally a source of comfort and safety- was starting to close in on him. He could almost hear the walls shifting.
Draco took a deep breath and tossed his Quill. He scrubbed his face and ran his fingers through his hair. Nothing was helping. He still felt like he was bouncing off the walls.
Finally, he decided to walk down the aisles and check the shelves. There was nothing to sort out there, but with his fingers tracing the spines of dusty, old books, he found himself breathing a little easy.
Yet again, he discreetly checked the wards on his flat. The alarm hadn’t tripped. By all accounts, Harry was still there, safe and sound.
But did that mean anything? If Harry discovered the Spell, it would take him five seconds to dismantle the wards and rig them again. And Draco would be none the wiser.
It was happening, he realised. He was starting to lose his mind.
Draco took a deep breath and headed for the stairs. He might as well go to the DMLE and confer with Weasley. Assuming that he was in his office at all…
He had just passed his desk when a memo swooped in. Draco stared at it, eyes wide and breath suddenly short. He reached out with shaking hands and pulled it out of the air.
We got him.
Come to Saint Mungo’s.
Now.
Draco didn’t waste a second.
He tossed the memo away and ran for the fireplace.
It fluttered to the floor as he hurtled away.
****
He made an executive decision and headed for Granger’s office. There was a good chance, he thought, that Weasley had confided in his wife- why else would they be meeting here? He thought of them, of the trust between them. He was almost certain that Weasley hadn’t even thought twice before bringing her into a secret that might cost him his job.
He wondered if he and Harry would ever have something like that, and then he irritably brushed the thought away.
It didn’t matter right now.
What did matter was that Mundungus Fletcher was here, in St Mungo’s and he had no way of telling if that was good or bad.
The questions played in a loop in his head, constant and unrelenting until he was standing outside an innocuous white door.
Hermione Granger Weasley, Spell Damage Specialist.
Draco rapped sharply, three times in quick succession.
The door opened a fraction and he caught a glance of Granger’s bushy brown hair. She heaved a sigh of relief and stepped aside.
“In,” she ordered shortly.
Draco slipped past her without a word.
Weasley was seated at the small desk in the corner. He was holding his head in his hands.
This did not look good.
“Is he dead?” Draco asked in the silence.
His mind was running through all the scenarios he could think of. Weasley never found Fletcher. He found Fletcher but the man was dead. He found him alive and injured, Fletcher had died in Saint Mungo’s…
“He’s fine,” Weasley muttered. He raised his head to look at Draco. His eyes were bloodshot, his robes wrinkled and dirty. He looked like he’d been on a mission for days.
“He’s in the Healing Chambers,” Granger explained. “We’re still running tests.”
Draco whipped around to stare at her. “For what?” he demanded. “You said he was fine.”
“He is,” Weasley repeated. “He’s also been Obliviated.”
For a few moments, there was silence again. Draco gaped at both of them. “Obliviated?” he whispered.
His heart sank. All this, and in the end, what good was it? Fletcher couldn’t tell them anything now. It was all for nothing.
“It’s a good, clean job too,” Weasley added bitterly. “No damage, whatsoever. But anything about Harry or what they’ve been talking about? Gone. All of it.”
“Not gone,” Granger corrected at once.
Draco glanced at her, not even daring to hope.
“The memories aren’t gone, just suppressed,” Granger explained. “We might still be able to salvage something. Of course, the spell is practically permanent but given a little time…”
Time. The one thing they didn’t have.
“You’re going to have to stall him a bit longer,” Weasley told him. “Just until we figure out the next step.”
Draco nodded. It’s not like he could do anything else. What other choice was there?
“Yeah,” he said finally. “Yeah, I’ll…figure something out.”
They sat in silence for a while. Nobody seemed willing to say the one thing that was on all their minds. In the end, it was Granger who took the leap.
“It’s possible he Obliviated himself,” she said softly. Her brown eyes darted to Weasley, hesitant and worried. “But given the…the precision, it’s not likely.”
Draco swallowed. “Harry?”
Memory Spells weren’t illegal, not exactly. But it was definitely a grey area.
Granger looked away. “It was probably voluntary,” she hedged. “Mundungus must have asked him to. It would be the easiest way to keep his hands clean.”
“And what if he didn’t?” Weasley asked tonelessly. “What if Harry just decided it was too dangerous to leave any loose ends and…”
“Don’t,” Granger cut in. Her hand squeezed around Weasley’s, her knuckles white. “We don’t know, Ron. We just don’t know yet, okay?”
Draco wasn’t sure he could take more of this.
“Harry,” he muttered, holding his head in his hands. “Oh Harry, what are you doing?”
****
In the end, there was little they could do. Their roles were well defined.
Weasley needed to start investigating from scratch. Granger was doing whatever she could to recover the lost memories. And Draco…well, Draco knew his part of it.
It was with heavy hearts and sombre goodbyes that the unlikely company parted ways.
Draco braced himself as he landed with both feet squarely planted in his living room. He shook the soot out of his clothes and hair and looked up.
His eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat.
The flat looked…
Merlin.
Draco’s eyes travelled from the strings of fairy lights to the wreaths of holly, strung up in every nook and corner. A soft golden glow lit up the room. Draco looked up, just noticing the scores of golden orbs bouncing across his ceiling. Even the tree was all done- his favourite Christmas baubles twinkling in the branches.
“Surprise.”
Draco started as a pair of strong arms wrapped around him. Harry pressed a kiss to his nape.
“Sorry dinner’s not done,” he murmured. “I got a little carried away.”
“You did this?” Draco whispered softly.
“Mm hm. I figured it was time we got serious about the holidays. Do you like it?”
Draco nodded. “It’s beautiful,” he managed, despite the little waver in his voice. His emotions were all over the place, what with…before. And now Harry had gone and done something sweet and thoughtful all over again, and he just didn’t know what to think.
And right now, he didn’t want to.
He was so…done with everything. And the guilt was killing him. While he’d been out spying on his boyfriend, Harry had been putting this together for him.
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
He couldn’t say it out loud, but he could show Harry how he felt. He could…start putting all of this behind them.
He’s still here, he reminded himself. He isn’t gone yet. Everything will work out.
He turned in Harry’s arms and pressed their lips together. Harry hummed in approval and snaked an arm around him, holding him close.
“There we go,” he murmured. “I’ve missed you, Draco.”
“I’ve been right here.”
“No, you haven’t.” Harry pulled away, his smile soft and just a little sad. Draco’s heart clenched as Harry ran a gentle hand down his cheek. “I just…I might be wrong but I feel like you’ve been pulling away lately.”
Draco ducked his head, instinctively hiding his gaze from Harry. If he didn’t, if he kept looking into those searching green eyes, he would say something. He knew he would.
“I just want you to know,” Harry said, “that you have nothing to hide from me. I will never hurt you, Draco. No matter what.”
He knew that. There was…so much he wasn’t sure of, but that he knew.
“I know,” he murmured. “I’m sorry, Harry. I know.”
They kissed again, slow and soft, under the golden orbs.
“Let’s go out,” Harry suggested.
Draco was slow to return to reality. “Hm?” he asked, blinking dazedly and still half caught up in the kiss.
Harry smiled and bussed a kiss to his forehead. “Let me take you out,” he repeated. “Dinner, wine and a walk under the stars. It would be nice to get out of the flat for a while, yeah?”
Draco smiled back. It did sound nice. and he couldn’t deny Harry something so small. Not now. Not when things finally seemed…right after such a long time.
“Okay,” he conceded, pressing a kiss to Harry’s jaw. “Just give me a minute to change, yeah?”
He padded back to the bedroom with one last smile at Harry. And the sight of him smiling back made the whole, horrible day fade away to nothing.
****
What Draco didn’t see was how Harry’s smile faded as soon as the door shut.
Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before digging around in his pocket. The parchment unfurled- crumpled and torn at the corner- but he could still read the short, terse script clear as day.
We got him.
Come to Saint Mungo’s.
Now.
Ron.
Harry crumpled the note and tossed it in the flames. Honestly, it was just good fortune that he’d decided to surprise Draco at the Library. If he hadn’t…well.
It was too late to do anything but proceed, he decided.
His eyes flicked to the calendar, and he made a decision.
Tomorrow. December 22nd.
He would make sure Draco was out of the house, out of harm’s way. No matter what happened he couldn’t let his boyfriend get tangled up in this. Draco was…fragile, but fierce where it mattered. He wouldn’t let Harry go, he would fight him, make him try to stay. And Harry couldn’t let him.
He didn’t blame Draco for going behind his back. Not really. Besides, he’d known from the beginning that Ron would try to stop him. He always tried.
No, this wasn’t Draco’s fault. He couldn’t understand.
Nobody could understand.
But that was okay. It was, because Harry knew what needed to be done.
He just needed to make sure that he kept playing along- just enough to keep Draco from getting suspicious, just enough to keep Ron off his trail.
It would be over soon, he told himself. He would root the bastards out once and for all.
And this time, maybe this time, it would finally be enough.