(no subject)
What part of our history's reinvented and under rug swept? What part of your memory is selective and tends to forget?
There were so many ‘if only’s going round in Harry’s head. If only Remus had stayed in England, gone to the Ball, told Harry this before he virtually ended this all himself. God, how could he be so stupid? Draco had been waiting for anything, and Harry had thought he was moving on and jumped in with that stupid remark, wanting to at least save his reputation if the relationship was over. Draco probably thought that was personal too, when really he just didn’t want the press announcing he was gay before he’d told his friends.
He had to make this right. And knowing Draco, it would take a hell of a lot more that ‘gee sorry about that abandoning you thing.’
*
Draco sipped his firewhiskey idly and stared out at his view over London. He’d spent so many nights in this exact spot, perched on his windowsill, pondering stupid Potter. Why did the stupid prick have to ignore him after the war, Draco was sure they could have worked. He’d changed so much, for Harry - Potter - and now he was stuck, admittedly in a job he felt worthy doing, but alone. No one wanted to be friends with an ex-‘death eater’, even if Harry Potter swore under veritaserum that he was on their side.
Draco remembered that day in the court room, when the judge had asked coyly if Harry had any other motive for wanting Draco cleared. Draco had held his breath, images of the slow languid fuck they’d shared that morning, of holding his hand in the ride there, the kiss he’d given him in the bathroom for luck. Potter just smiled and said:
‘My motivation is to see an innocent man, who has risked everything to join the side of light, who I have seen with my own eyes to be incapable of killing - who Dumbledore himself believed in completely - cleared.’
Draco had exhaled. Nicely dodged. How long had they been together then? It certainly wasn’t just sex anymore. That was when Harry had started coming to his room, just for the company, when Weasley and Hermione had began to notice that Draco was the only one Harry went to.
He downed the remaining whiskey and fetched the whole bottle.
*
Harry was frantic. He’d never wanted to make a capture so badly in his life. Ron had flooed him earlier that evening from the office (now that Hermione was pregnant he’d agreed to at least try a desk job, though he was still a key member of Harry’s team).
‘We had a sighting of the three remaining First Generationers, Malfoy, Jugson and Lestrange, in Switzerland. Sent a recon team ten minutes ago, they’ve yet to report. Dispatching in ten minutes, have you got your pack?’
Harry had grabbed his Auror pack (emergency portkey, survival kit for non magical areas, muggle gun - he was particularly fond of that one as it played such a huge, ironic part in Voldemort’s downfall - a phone that had been attuned to work in magical fields, etc), quickly thanked Ron for pulling strings like he’d asked him to if this came in, and apparated to the co-ordinates he was given.
*
Draco eyed the walkman and sighed, casting an amplifying charm at the headphones, to listen to the end. Maybe it would have a happy ending…
Just make sure you don't tell on me especially to members of your family, we best keep this to ourselves and not tell any members of our inner posse…
Draco laughed mirthlessly. Feeling Harry shudder and come against him as Ron walked past the cupboard, looking for him. Giving him a wicked smile before raising his hand to taste Harry as Ron continued to yell, hearing him whimper at the sight.
Taking Harry from behind and making him look out over their friends whilst they camped at Godric’s Hollow, out of sight to them. Telling him to keep his eyes open and on the people who would go crazy if they found out - learning Harry got off on exhibitionism as he came hard and quick, splattering come all over the tree in front of him, groaning ‘I hate you, Malfoy’ in a in a way that made Draco quickly follow his orgasm, as they used their first names now.
Spending Christmas at the Burrow, of all places, and sniping just one too many times and having Harry take him roughly in the bathroom so he couldn’t sit for the week without being reminded to behave himself. The way Harry practically threw him into that bathroom door, face flushed with anger, fists tightly in his tshirt, and all Draco could do was buck his hips wildly into Harry’s, insanely turned on by his anger. Harry’s eyes glinting, harshly turning him around - barely preparing him - not touching his cock once, angling so Draco managed to come anyway, much to his anger.
Harry, feeling guilty afterwards and worshipping his cock, his whole body, while the Weasleys partied downstairs. New Year arriving and while everyone sang ‘Auld Lang Syne,’ Harry pushed him gently against the tree in the burrow back garden and kissed him softly, sweetly, until people drifted inside and they knew they’d be missed.
I wish I could tell the world cus you're such a pretty thing when you're done up properly, I might want to marry you one day if you watch that weight and keep your firm body
Harry had looked so good when he walked through those doors into the Ministry Ball, in robes of deep green that matched his eyes. He was practically glowing, setting aside any hopes of Draco’s that maybe he was too sick to ask for him. That stupid bint was hanging off his arm in long, peacock blue dress akin to robes, which was modest at the front and bare and detailed on the back, and Draco begrudgingly thought it was nice. He could have ripped her stupid ginger head off right there and then, but he merely snagged another glass of champagne and stalked to the other side of the room muttering ‘blue and green must not be seen’ childishly under his breath.
He’d even thought about marriage. He felt ridiculous now, but he’d bought Harry a bond ring, one that allowed its pair to locate it at any time. He still had it, and with pained expression he wandered in to his bedroom to look at it once again, pretending he didn’t get it out every week and think about what could have been.
*
Harry’s muscles ached and he shuffled forward on his elbows a little. So far this all-important mission was a little static and dull. The recon team had trailed someone who appeared to have Jugson’s magical signature’s residue on him, but no fresh use had been reported. They were camped just up a mountain near Schwyz, spying on a cave, and it was nearing dawn. This had to be the low point of this job, even after all the paperwork, the waiting.
Then it started. Someone ducked out of the cave, dressed in a long robe with the face and hair covered, a single wisp of white-blond hair slipping out. The first hex was thrown at her and Harry sprang into action.
*
Draco yawned and cursed his penchant for drinking his problems away. He was on clinic duty today, meaning he had an early shift in the Magical Emergency Ward. Which meant not only did he feel like crap, but there was a good chance that Potter would appear at some stage at the Auror Apparition point, keyed to let in Aurors and those injured with them, installed due to the influx of those harmed during the war who were either further injured getting to St Mungo’s or unable to enter entirely.
He felt a hand land on his shoulder and spun around.
‘Hermione, how do you do?’
She smiled indulgently. ‘I’m fine, Draco. How about you? Still scaring the students?’
‘As much as is humanly possible without completely channeling Snape.’
‘Ah. And how is Professor Snape these days?’
‘Quite good, I think. Wales is treating him well, though he claims not to care much for the accent, I think he finds it quite endearing really.’
‘Funny how he and Remus ending up living so close together, isn’t it?’ She asked, with a twinkle in her eye.
‘Indeed. Was there something in particular you wanted?’
‘Yes, actually. Don’t bite my head off but, well, do you ever speak to Harry these days - I mean, I thought you two had become friends during the war, and now-’ a loud, piercing siren went off three times, signalling incoming injured Aurors and/or victims.
‘Buggar, I’m on call. Got to go.’
*
Harry braced himself and landed lightly under the weight in his arms at the AAP in St Mungo’s. The place was in chaos; Shawshank and Burnett had apparated ahead of him, looking badly injured by cutting curses from who turned out to be Jugson. Burnett, he’d seen, had had to struggle to apparate himself, half-conscious, with his wrong arm because his wand hand was almost completely severed.
King was already there as well, laying out Jugson’s lifeless body. King and Burnett were particularly close, Harry knew, and was sure that had something to do with the speed and ferocity with which he had responded.
Ellis had brought Lestrange in, though he’d had to do so in two separate pieces. Harry winced and looked away.
‘Somebody help me, I have an injured civilian!’
An assistant Healer rushed forward but halted violently.
‘That’s-’
‘She’s injured, hurry!’
He glared at her and shifted the lifeless body in his arms, only then noticing Draco; stood perfectly still, looking like he’d seen a ghost.
‘She’s a Death Eater - she should have been killed on sighting!’
‘I don’t see a mark, do you?’ Harry said menacingly. And he was right, her arm hung at her side, albeit at a twisted angle - probably dislocated - but perfectly bare.
‘Oh for fuck’s sake. Draco?’ Harry’s voice pleaded for him to snap out of his trance and help, and he didn’t even notice he’d let his given name slip. It seemed to work, however, and Draco stepped up to take his mother from Harry’s arms, and for the first time in one year, two months and five days, met his eyes. It seemed like an eternity that he held his gaze, until the dead weight shifted his attention and he was gone in a flurry of action. A Healer joined him when he saw that indeed, Narcissa Malfoy didn’t bare the Dark Mark, and when Draco turned, Harry was gone.
*
Harry winced as he downed his fourth potion. After offloading Narcissa he’d taken himself down to Hermione’s floor, getting her to heal him personally.
He’d received a nasty slash from Jugson, and Lestrange had sent a Blood-Boiling Curse that missed by millimetres. His worst injury was a sprained ankle, embarrassingly, which he’s received whilst scrambling over rocks to retrieve Narcissa before the others saw and killed her.
Hermione was just finishing healing a scratch on his arm when she sighed.
‘It’s strange how Narcissa Malfoy isn’t marked.’ She hadn’t commented on Harry’s mumbled version of events when he’d arrived, but seemed to have had time to think on it.
‘I mean, no one would have ever seen her mark, just presumed it was there, because Death Eaters are awfully secretive over them. So I suppose she could not have it, just a case of guilty by association.’ She commented innocently.
‘Hmmm.’
‘Of course, a few people have seen Narcissa Malfoy’s bare arm and know full well that she is marked, haven’t they, Harry James Potter?’
Shit. He’d totally forgotten. Hermione and himself had been captured in the second year of the war, and only escaped through help from an Order member infiltrating Malfoy Manor, polyjuiced into Gregory Goyle. During their stay Narcissa had been the one to feed them, though barely, and they had seen her mark.
‘Buggar.’
‘What on earth are you playing at Harry? You did something didn’t you? I can see that much, but why?’
‘It’s a long story. Most of which I didn’t know myself until yesterday.’
‘Malfoy?’
Harry smiled grimly. ‘It’s always Malfoy.’
*
Draco paced his office frantically, searching for answers he couldn’t possibly find without tearing his world apart. His mother was definitely marked, he’d seen it himself and he knew it wasn’t some fake to throw other followers off; it was the real deal. He’d seen her double up in agony as the Dark Lord punished her through it, for his mistakes. What the hell was going on?
*
Harry stared long and hard at Narcissa’s sleeping form and prayed he’d made the right decision. Hiding the mark hadn’t been difficult, not for him, but his whole world would be destroyed if anyone discovered what he’d done. Not that he particularly cared at this point in time.
Narcissa was being treated predominantly for non-magical injuries, namely the months of malnutrition. If he was honest with himself, he was here in the hope that Draco would come by. He was her son after all, and someone who had gone through her ordeal would need a mental malady referral surely…
She reminded him too much of Draco to stay long. She wore the same innocent, unguarded expression in her sleep that he did; her white-blond hair framing her face in a not dissimilar style. He thought back to the hundreds of nights he spent in Draco’s room at Grimmauld, watching him sleep with the same look on his face. Like nothing in the world could harm him. And Harry used to worry so much that he would cause Draco’s hurt, by dying in this war. He’d even tried ending it, once - Draco had figured why straight away, luckily, and set him right. It was his choice alone as to whether he’d open himself up to be hurt, and Harry was going to win this war anyway.
‘People will start to talk, Potter.’ A sharp voice brought him out of his voice, and he looked at Draco in confusion.
‘Saving a Death Eater, sitting by her bed side, what will people say?’
Harry made a light ‘humph’ sound and looked at Narcissa one last time.
‘Maybe I have a thing for blonds.’ He joked flatly to no avail, completely at a loss as to what to say now he was here.
‘How did you do it.’ Draco’s voice was empty and not questioning; gently but firmly demanding.
They made eye contact for the second time in so long and Harry looked away. Draco’s eyes were just too intense, too - afraid? Confused? He couldn’t read him and that scared him.
‘Do what?’
‘You know exactly what, Potter.’ He hissed, suddenly losing his cool control. ‘You know as well as I do she was marked - is marked. You saw it in my memories and with your own eyes. Where the fuck is it and what are you playing at? My mother’s life isn’t up for bargaining in your little hero games.’
Harry’s eyes slid between the two blonds.
‘I got rid of it before I brought her in, so they wouldn’t kill her.’ He said quietly.
‘That’s not possible.’
‘You know how powerful I am Draco, it didn’t take much.’
‘You removed it?’ Draco sounded incredulous and almost sarcastic, as if he was teasing Harry, but the subject matter was too delicate to joke over.
‘No, nothing can remove it. I covered it up with my own skin coloured mark - a win-win really, now I can keep tabs on her to see how she behaves during her second chance - and as my power is most intense when born out of love, it wasn’t that difficult.’
‘You’re saying you love my mother?’ He sniped, regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth.
‘As nice as I’m sure she is, it was love for someone whose blood she shared, so it worked just as effectively.’
He risked a glance at Draco and saw the façade crumble. His eyes drifted closed and Harry knew something had changed. He just hoped he hadn’t broken him again.
Something touched Harry’s hand lightly and looked down to see Draco’s fingers grace his hand softly, before pulling away.
‘I-’
‘Harry! Are you ok?’ Harry had never been so unhappy to hear Ron’s voice in his entire life as his best friends appeared in the doorway.
*
Buggaringfuckfuck fuck. Weasley had the worst timing in the history of the world, ten fold, Draco ranted in his head.
‘He’s fine, Weasley. Do you mind?’
‘Mind what?’ Ron looked blanky at Draco.
‘We were discussing - my mother’s condition - and - oh just fuck off for a second!’
Ron was too shocked to even reply that no, he wouldn’t fuck off, because Harry was his best friend who the hell did the little ferret think he was - he just nodded numbly and walked out, shutting the door quietly but watching them through the glass observation panel, arms crossed and frowning, and Harry realised some cogs were slowly starting to turn as to why Harry had insisted he got in on Narcissa’s ‘kill’ if she was ever spotted.
Draco huffed slightly and sat down next to Harry.
‘Why?’
Harry wanted to look into his eyes again, he couldn’t get enough of it now Draco would meet his now, but Draco’s attention was fixed on his mother.
‘I knew the circumstances of her getting the mark, I know you can’t help who you fall in love with and what you’ll do for them, as I’ve demonstrated tonight-’ Harry gave a little laugh but faltered, not sure how to act. He’d described Lucius and Narcissa eerily close to his and Draco’s relationship, though neither of them had left the other. He shuffled guiltily at the thought of a pair of Death Eaters being more loyal than himself.
‘But Draco-’ Draco’s head snapped up at his given name. ‘- I did this for you. I needed to - god, I never knew, after the battle, I thought you just didn’t want to see me, I was in a coma for almost 2 weeks-’
Draco frowned deeply. That piece of information had certainly been kept quiet, but it explained why his wards hadn’t fallen.
‘No, no one knew. They didn’t want to ruin morale with the information that their hero might be dead or forever unconscious when the Death Eaters were running amok. And, well, it involved Dark Magic.’
Draco knew he should say something, but what? Sorry, sorry for not trying harder to see you? But he had tried, so fucking hard, only to be shot down continuously.
‘I thought-’ he voice croaked, didn’t sound like his own. ‘I thought you didn’t want to see me. They wouldn’t let me in- the laws Scrimgeour set-’
Harry winced. The war had been a dark time for everyone in society, as people turned on one another. Anyone associated with Death Eaters - their whole families - found themselves outcasted.
‘But you looked so well at the Ball, you were practically glowing with health and … happiness.’
Harry smiled sadly. ‘I was glowing with glamours, Hermione spent an hour working on my face alone before I could risk being seen, and I left after an hour from exhaustion.’
Draco looked firmly at his lap, not trusting himself to look up. Hearing what they’d lost through misunderstandings, and a godamned apology, was even worse than going through it all. He just wished Potter would leave him to miserably go about his life, talk about rubbing salt in the wound.
‘Draco, I loved you so much. I would have never survived the war without you.’
Draco jumped up, unable to listen any longer.
‘Well that’s great Potter, glad I could be of service, now if you’re quite done ripping my heart out for a second time-’
Harry had jumped up with him, searching his face for what he’d done wrong.
‘Draco, no! Let me finish!’
‘I can’t, Harry, I can’t, lose you again. Just go. Please’
‘No. I already left you once accidentally and I don’t plan on doing so ever again.’
Draco opened his mouth and abruptly shut it. ‘Wha-’
And Harry kissed him. Oh- oh. He wasn’t leaving again. Harry’s lips slammed into his in a kiss that wasn’t rough as much as it was gently possessive, firmly marking his territory. His hands came up to his hair as they always did and Draco felt his heart break a little in pleasure, if that was possible.
Harry didn’t know what was going through Draco’s head, if he’d ever forgive him, so he’d pounced, using the technique he’d relied on in the war to both shut him up and destroy his doubts about them. He’d forgotten how good this felt, like the world was ending but it didn’t matter, that this was it. He poured everything he could into it, using a variation of legilimency he’d picked up during his intensive training in the war, to show Draco how much he cared. Draco gasped at the feeling, his mind filling with faint copies of Harry’s thoughts, such as I never want this to end, and his heart swelling as he felt both his own pleasure and Harry’s, it was so… warm.
Harry took the opportunity of his gasp, deepend the kiss and Draco was lost. The warmth became hotness and he was suddenly very aware that his mother was asleep in the same room, and if he opened his eyes there was a good chance there would be an unconscious Ronald Weasley just below the window. He broke off, lost for breath.
‘Harry-’
‘Please give me another chance Draco.’
Draco laughed, like he actually meant in, for the first time in what felt like years.
‘You’re so stupid, why did you use the past tense?’
‘Hmmm?’ Harry had buried his face in the curve of Draco’s neck, inhaling.
‘You said loved.’
‘Oh. Well I was talking about the past. I loved you. I still love you. But that’s now.’
‘Your logic completely fails in life.’
Harry rested his forehead on Draco’s. ‘I have missed you so much it hurt. Every fucking day. Even more than everything Voldemort ever threw at me.’
‘I know.’
He remembered this, the holding; they always held each other when they were alone. Harry’s arms were linked around him possessively and Draco laid his head on his shoulder. Doing this, his head turned to look at the window.
‘Umm Harry.’
‘Yes?’
‘We have an audience.’
Ron was looking extremely confused and a little green. Harry and Malfoy’s position looked entirely familiar and comfortable, and he didn’t want to think of the implications of that. He’d only known Harry was gay for a couple of months, after he’d got completely trashed and babbled about ‘him’ for three hours - three guesses who that ‘him’ was now. Hermione was at his side, patting his arm reassuringly and smiling a little. Harry recognised that smile; she’d had an idea about them. Then there was Snape, cocking an eyebrow.
Harry grinned at him. He had a soft spot for his old professor. They’d gotten close - after Harry initially trying to kill him - through a long war, despite numerous rough patches.
‘We need to talk before we face the world.’
Harry smiled. ‘And we need to spend that week in bed.’
The end. For now.
A/N: For those who like the finer details, photos of Ginny's dress and Draco's ring