Title: Seven Nights Beneath the Stars
Author:
faeriechiiRating: PG-13
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 3,885
Summary: When tragedy strikes in Draco Malfoy’s life, an unlikely "hero" comes into the midst and helps him through his difficult time.
Warnings: Minor character death. Fluff. (Fluff written by me definitely should be taken as a warning, since I typically do angst!)
Disclaimer: As with all of my fics, the actual writing belongs to me. Harry Potter & Co. belongs to JK Rowling.
A/N: Written for
hd_falling's Merry Month of May fest. This is May 13th's word prompt: stars. Many thanks to
j_folked for her wonderful betaing. Constructive criticism is appreciated!
The Daily Prophet
Wife of Notorious Death Eater Found Brutally Murdered
By Barnabas Cuffe
Narcissa Malfoy, wife of known Death Eater Lucius Malfoy, was discovered dead yesterday morning in the gardens of Malfoy Manor. Her body was found mangled in such a way that it was difficult to identify. A magical autopsy was later performed in St. Mungo's Hospital that evening by several experienced healers with inconclusive results. Due to the condition her corpse was found in, it is not believed that Narcissa Malfoy was murdered by the Killing Curse. No effects of any malignant potions could be found in her bloodstream.
According to the house-elf that found the dead body, Narcissa Malfoy was a kind, loving wife and mother.
"M-mistress was always looking after all of us and making sure we is doing our work right," said the female house-elf, who was found sobbing in the manor kitchen with a bottle of Butterbeer. "S-sh-she was a good mistress."
A special team from the Magical Law Enforcement Squad has been assigned to investigate the mysterious death of Narcissa Malfoy, but so far no leads have been found.
"It could be anyone," says Head Auror Gawain Robards. "She wasn't in a good position, being the wife of a Death Eater. She was a target to both sides."
No comment could be obtained from Lucius Malfoy, who is still held in Azkaban for his Death Eater crimes.
A private funeral service for Narcissa Malfoy will be held on the 29th of May at three o'clock. For further information, please Owl Pennifold's Pure-blood Funeral Services.
In addition to her husband, Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa is survived by her son and only child, Draco Malfoy.
I
Harry James Potter wasn't sure what brought him up the stairs of the Astronomy Tower. Well, he was sure a certain blond had something to do with it, but he was not going to admit it. Actually, if he was truly honest with himself, Harry Potter was a bit concerned. He had been one of the "fortunate" few to witness the blond's expression when The Daily Prophet had been delivered at breakfast that morning, and now the Boy Who Lived was feeling rather fearful for his rival's well-being.
It wasn't a fate he would have wished on his worst enemy, let alone a mere school rival. To lose one's mother in such a horrifying way must have been devastating. There were times that Harry had missed his own mother, and he had never known her. He couldn't bear to think what he would do if he had lost her after forming so many happy memories of her, memories that he was sure his rival had. That may have been why Harry, after seeing the familiar dot on the Marauder's Map, came hurrying. That may have been why Harry was now at the door of the tower, one hand on the handle, waiting to push it open. Or it simply may have been that the Boy Who Lived was losing his mind.
After all, this was Draco Malfoy he was contemplating.
Ignoring his misgivings, Harry pushed open the door and stepped out onto the ramparts. The scene before him surprised him and prevented him from making any attempt to step closer.
Sitting sideways on the parapet with his legs pulled up against himself was Draco Malfoy, curled up in a green and silver blanket. His face was paler than it normally was, and the area around his eyes was red as if he had been crying. But if he had been crying before, he had now long stopped. Beside him, atop the raised part of the crenelated wall was a small round music box made of ivory. It was open and playing a fairy-like melody that seemed familiar, yet, Harry could not place it. At closer glance, the music box was projecting into the air above it an image of a blond boy riding on a broom through a river of glittering silver stars. It was the most beautiful thing Harry had ever seen; he quickly concluded by the hovering figure and stars that it had to be a magical music box.
"What do you want, Potter?" the blond said, his voice dull and lacking the confidence it usually held.
Harry remained silent. He wasn't sure what he wanted. He still wasn't quite sure why he bothered to come.
"If you came to give me your pity, then bugger off. I don't want it."
"But I don't pity you," Harry said, quickly.
Draco raised an eyebrow at that but said nothing. He turned back and continued to stare at the music box before him, as if he was in a trance.
Harry joined the blond on the wall, sitting next to him but not close enough to feel like he was invading Draco's privacy.
Together, the two of them silently watched and listened to the music box for the rest of the night.
II
When Harry Potter stepped onto the ramparts of the Astronomy Tower the next night, he found that Draco Malfoy was already sitting atop of the parapet, quietly watching the tiny blond figure flying gracefully through the stars to the fairy-like tune. He hesitated at the doorway, unsure whether the blond would tolerate his presence again that night. The night before had been rather peaceful and quiet. There were no exchange of insults, no urge of sporadic violence, just subtle companionship. Harry was surprised to learn that he actually enjoyed it.
It took a moment before Draco noticed Harry standing just a few feet away from him. He glanced at the dark-haired wizard disinterestedly for a moment before turning back to the music box.
"Oh, it's you."
Harry took this as a cue that it was alright to stay, so he walked over to the parapet and made himself comfortable near the blond. He had taken his own blanket with him this time, as it had been rather cold the previous night, though it was now spring. He had also brought a small silver thermos, which he set aside before turning to the music box figure. It was doing graceful turns and rolls on its broom, dodging shooting stars the entire time. The image brought a small smile to his face.
"Potter, why are you here... again?" Draco said, turning slightly to face Harry, one blond eyebrow raised in question.
Harry shrugged. He was still unable to answer that question. Picking up the thermos, he conjured a mug and poured the contents of the thermos into it. He then offered it to the blond.
"Want some hot chocolate?"
Draco stared at the mug for a long moment, blinking incredulously at it. Tentatively, he reached over and took the mug from Harry, cupping it in his hands. Bringing the mug to his lips, he closed his eyes and breathed in the sweet aroma. He took a slow sip then, and the expression on his face was slightly more relaxed than it had been the night prior.
"Didn't know you liked cinnamon in your hot chocolate," the blond said in an almost accusing tone.
Harry sipped his own mug, a thoughtful frown developing on his face.
"I was told that my mother liked it that way," he said quietly. "It's the only way I'll drink it."
Draco's expression turned distant, and suddenly Harry knew that he was no longer part of the world the blond had placed himself in. The next words Draco said came in an almost wistful whisper; Harry wasn't sure if they were meant for him to hear.
"Yeah... me too."
III
Harry had reached the ramparts early that night, early enough to share the picturesque sunrise with the blond, who was in his usual spot on the parapet, but the music box was not in sight. The Boy Who Lived wondered about that but said nothing; he didn't feel like it was his place to ask such questions. He still wasn't sure what made him keep coming. He also still wasn't sure how he knew that the blond would be there without even looking at the Marauder's Map. But he didn't care. He came anyway.
Draco remained silent while the sun slid below the horizon. He remained silent as the sky darkened and the cluster of stars appeared here and there, dotting the sky with their glittering glow. Finally, when the transition of darkness finished, the blond spoke.
"There's a meteor shower tonight, did you know?"
"No," Harry said. He was surprised that the blond knew.
The blond sneered, though it appeared half-hearted.
"Meteor showers are important in the Wizarding world. They're a good omen. If a red star flies over you, it's supposed to mean you'll find love. If it's green, then you'll find fortune."
"Oh."
"This is why Pure-bloods are superior," Draco said matter-of-factly. "We know the customs."
"Why couldn't we learn?" Harry said, feeling a bit defensive. "It's not my fault my parents weren't around to teach me anyway."
The blond didn't seem to be listening. He was staring into the sky; his grey eyes were piercingly focused, but they didn't appear to be seeing anything.
"Mother taught me everything I knew before I came to Hogwarts," Draco said, his voice barely above a whisper. "She loved me."
"I wish I knew how that felt," Harry said. "A mother's love."
"Don't you?" the blond asked, tilting his head. "Didn't your mother die for you?"
Harry swallowed hard and nodded.
"She loved you too," Draco said.
This time it was Harry's turn to be quiet as he turned over Draco's words. He knew they were true, but it was surprising that the blond saw it too. After all, wasn't this the same person who had the gall to insult his best friends every chance he took? It was still him, the same yet different... subdued. He wondered if the blond had been that close to his mother. He envied that.
"Malfoy?"
"What?"
"You're lucky you got to know your mother."
There was a hint of the trademark smirk on the blond's lips.
"I know," Draco said, before a glint in the sky caught his eye. "Hey, the meteor shower's starting."
Harry looked in the direction where the blond was staring and smiled as the brilliant white stars began to dance across the sky.
Unbeknownst to either wizard, a brilliant red star soared across the bit of sky just above them.
IV
Harry Potter ran up the stairs of the Astronomy Tower in a hurry. He was running late. His friends kept him in the common room, questioning where he had been every night and why he returned only when the sun rose. Ron accused him of having a girlfriend and not telling them about it. Hermione admonished him for staying out so late when he had classes the next morning. Being Harry, he brushed both of their worries away and escaped further questions. Finally, he was at the door. Reaching toward the iron ring handle, he pulled on it and stepped out onto the ramparts.
"You're late," Draco said, his tone irritable.
"I know. Ron and Hermione-"
"If I'm going to suffer your company, Potter, you could have the decency to be punctual," the blond continued coldly. "Where are your manners?"
"I'm sorry, but it wasn't my fault!"
Draco snorted.
"You'll have to do better than that."
Harry sighed, running his hands through his messy black hair in frustration.
"I really am."
"Right, well. It's not as if I was waiting for you anyway," Draco said stiffly. He turned over the ivory music box over and over again in his hands. It was a display of his irritation, but he didn't seem to notice.
Harry did.
"You'll drop the music box over the parapet if you keep that up," he said dryly. "I said I was sorry, and I mean it."
Draco froze, his hands clasping tightly on the treasured music box. He glared at the wizard standing before him, his grey eyes cold with fury.
"Don't say things like that, Potter. You'll curse it."
Instead of growing more agitated at the blond's moodiness, Harry turned his attention to the music box, wondering if this would be a good time to question its significance.
"It means a lot to you, doesn't it?"
The blond snorted.
"Of course it would," Draco said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "It was a gift from my mother."
"Oh."
"When I was five," the blond began, his tone having softened a bit, "I told my parents that I wanted to become a professional Quidditch player when I grew up. My father told me that he hoped I would amount to something more, something befitting a Malfoy."
"But, that's ridiculous! There's nothing wrong with wanting to play Quidditch professionally," Harry said, scandalized.
"Apparently you don't know my father," Draco said wryly. "My mother pulled me aside later and handed me a small velvet gift box. She told me that no matter what, she wanted me to be happy. She wanted me to chase my dreams. The music box was supposed to be a reminder of that, to chase whatever dream made me happy."
"Even if it wasn't suitable for a Malfoy?"
"Even then," the blond replied, smiling tenderly at the memory.
It was the first time Harry had seen Draco truly smile. A real smile, not a sneer or a smirk, but a genuine smile. It made him feel something he couldn't describe, like flying on a broom for the first time or catching the Snitch at a Quidditch match. It was a wonderful, unnerving feeling.
"I think your mother was a smart witch," Harry said, thinking of his own mother. He was sure she would be the same had she lived to raise him.
"Of course she was," Draco said smoothly. "She loved me, didn't she?"
Harry gaped at the blond in disbelief until the blond doubled up with laughter. It was a few more seconds before Harry joined in, and the two spent the night admiring the clear sky in amicable companionship.
V
"Are you going to attend your mother's funeral?"
Draco stiffened at the question and stared down at the small music box in his hands. After a moment, he set the music box down on the wall and tapped it with his wand. Instantly, the music box opened to reveal the blond figure swooping through the stars on its broom. Delicate music accompanied it, and the wizard hummed along.
"Draco?"
"Well I don't have a bloody choice, now do I?" Draco snapped.
"Actually, you do," Harry pointed out. "But I think it'd be good for you to go. You need a chance to say goodbye."
Draco laughed bitterly.
"No, I think I need her."
"I know that," Harry said softly. "But she's gone, and this is the last chance you'll get to see her. At least you have that. When Sirius died, the veil took his body with him. I never really got a chance to say goodbye."
"I'm not sure I want to see her... after what they've done to her. I don't think I could bear it," the blond whispered, tears threatening to fall.
"I'm sure they'll do their best to make her look as beautiful as she was when she lived."
A tear slid down Draco's pale cheek. Then another. And another. It was a matter of seconds before he started sobbing. He hadn't been able to cry when he first heard the news, nor hours later. He had tried, thinking that it was cold and heartless for him to be unable to cry at the news of his mother's death. Now he knew that he had been too much in pain to.
Harry was unsure of what to do, but he gave the blond an awkward hug and held the sobbing wizard in his arms.
"Shh," the dark-haired wizard soothed. "It'll be okay." He felt silly saying so, knowing that Draco's life would never quite be the same again. Harry had never stopped wishing that Sirius would come back somehow, and he was sure the blond would feel the same way about his mother.
"Stupid Saint Potter," Draco said in the midst of his tears. "You always have to be everyone's hero."
"No. Tonight, I'm just yours."
VI
The next night when Harry Potter opened the door out to the ramparts, he found Draco sitting on the parapet facing him. It was a full moon that night, and the rays of light cast themselves on the blond, giving him an almost ethereal look. A small smile immediately formed on his face though he tried to hide it. It was odd that he was so excited to see Draco when just days ago, they seemed to be enemies. If they weren't throwing hexes and insults in the corridors, they were fighting in empty classrooms. It was a strange change. He felt guilty thinking it, but somehow he was glad that the effect Narcissa Malfoy's death had on Draco transformed him into a feeling person instead of the annoying git Harry came to know him as.
"And what are you smiling at, Potter?"
"I wasn't smiling!" Harry protested, schooling his features into a more neutral expression.
"Right, Potter," the blond said, rolling his eyes. "You're a terrible liar."
Harry pondered this for a moment.
"Is that a compliment?"
"Not if you're in Slytherin," Draco said, smirking. "Lying is a necessary skill if you want to survive in our House."
"Well, I'm in Gryffindor, so I'll take it as a compliment."
The smirk slowly faded from Draco's face, and he looked at Harry with a serious expression.
"By the way, I thought about what you said the other night."
Harry tilted his head curiously; there were many things he had said and wasn't sure which the blond was referring to.
"I'm going to attend my mother's funeral," Draco said, biting his bottom lip. "I don't think it's fair to her if she didn't get to see me again before they bury her."
Harry nodded his understanding. He was relieved that Draco had decided to go; he was sure that the blond would regret it one day if he didn't. He took the blond's hand and squeezed it gently.
"I think that's a good idea."
Draco gave him a small but grateful smile.
"So, was Hogsmeade as busy as usual?" he asked. He had opted for staying in his dormitory rather than going on the trip with his friends. It just didn't seem right to, so close to his mother's death.
"Yeah, a bit," Harry said, feeling a bit anxious. "I saw something in one of the shops and thought of you."
"Oh? What was it?"
Harry grinned sheepishly before handing the blond a small, rectangular gift-wrapped box.
"Here, I hope you like it."
"You really didn't have to," Draco was saying as he tore the wrapping paper from the box and eagerly opened it. When he saw the contents, he paused. "You really shouldn't have."
Harry bit his lip.
"You don't like it?"
"No, I do," Draco said, reassuringly. "It's beautiful, but you really didn't have to."
Harry relaxed a little, looking extremely relieved.
"I wanted to."
Draco took the crystal quill from its box and looked at the tiny white Narcissi blossoms trapped inside. He fiddled with it for a moment before placing it back into the box and staring up in the sky.
"It's a beautiful night."
"Yeah, it is."
"Potter?"
"Malfoy?"
"Thanks... for everything."
Harry said nothing but felt his heart skip a beat. He was sure that wasn't a good thing considering who he was with, but he ignored it. It was better to just enjoy the moment. Even if that moment was with Draco Malfoy.
VII
It was a beautiful, warm spring night. The air was sweet smelling, perfumed by the wildflowers that had grown all around the Hogwarts grounds. Billions of silvery stars glittered across the sky, and though the moon was waning, it was still a brilliant sight to see. Draco was curled up on a blanket atop the wall, looking to be in peace. This was the scene that Harry happened upon when he arrived at the ramparts. The dark-haired wizard stared at the blond for a moment, taking note of how much the wizard had improved in mood over the past week.
"Going to join me, Potter?" the blond asked, slightly amused.
Harry felt his cheeks growing warm from being caught staring. Crossing the little distance between the door and the crenelated wall, the Boy Who Lived climbed atop the parapet and sat beside the blond.
"Been here long?"
Draco shook his head distractedly.
"Not really, no."
"Can you believe our N.E.W.T.s are just a few weeks away?" Harry said. "I can still remember the day I found out I was a wizard like it was just yesterday."
"Yeah," Draco said softly. "Time flies..."
Harry frowned.
"Something wrong, Draco?"
There was no answer from the blond, who seemed to be staring into space.
Harry gently nudged the other wizard.
"Hey, alright there?"
"Oh," Draco said, startled back into reality. "Yeah, just thinking."
"What about?"
The blond frowned before shakily reaching into his robes and pulling out a forest green velvet box. He handed it to Harry shyly, unable to meet the confused wizard's eyes.
"For you, Potter."
Harry gave him a questioning glance before opening the box. His mouth dropped open when he saw a familiar ivory music box inside.
"Draco... you can't... I don't... you can't give this to me," Harry said finally after the moment of shock had passed. "Your mother gave it to you."
"She gave it to me to remind me to chase my dreams," Draco said with a little enigmatic smile. "I'm giving it to you to tell you I found them."
Harry blinked confusedly for several long moments before realisation hit him.
"Hang on... does this mean what I think it means?"
"You can't possibly ask me to answer that," Draco said dryly. "The Gryffindor thought process is rather questionable, you realise."
"Draco! Just tell me already!"
"Honestly, Potter. Do I always have to spell everything out for you?" the blond said with exasperation before finally confirming Harry's suspicions, a pink tinge slowly forming upon his pale cheeks. "I... might be falling for you, Potter."
Harry blushed, his heart fluttering rapidly.
"I-I, it's the same with me," he said, stumbling over the words. "I'm falling in love with you too."
"Of course you would," replied the blond with arrogant confidence, trying to hide his relief. "Who wouldn't?"
Harry looked affronted.
"Are you saying I'm like everyone else?"
At this the blond leaned toward the Boy Who Lived and gently captured his lips. The kiss was soft and hesitant, but no less full of underlying passion. Draco found Harry's lips to be warm and eager and was disappointed at having to break the kiss to answer his question.
"No, you're not like everyone else," Draco said, snuggling up to the wizard contently. "You're mine."
They weren't expecting to see a meteor shower that night, but somehow, they weren't at all surprised when they spotted a crimson coloured star streaking across the sky above them.