I Won't Let You Fall Apart [Harry/Draco - PG] - Part 2
Title: I Won’t Let You Fall Apart
Author: Anonymous
Prompt: #130 Submitted by: eruditefics
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Summary: Harry experiences some delayed post traumatic stress and Draco helps him process it.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own any of this. It all belongs to JKR.
Warning(s): EWE
Word Count: about 16,000
Beta(s): alovelycupoftea, emansil_08
Author's Notes: The title comes from the song “The Fragile” by Nine Inch Nails, which can be heard here at YouTube:The Fragile. Special thanks to alaana_fair for handholding.
Draco woke early the next morning, the grey light of just before dawn hovered about the room.
He turned and saw that Potter was already awake as well and was studying him intently.
“Were you watching me sleep?” he asked, somewhat incredulous.
“I suppose I was,” Potter answered lazily. He opened his arms then and gestured that Draco should come and lay against him.
Draco gently situated himself where he could lay his head on Potter’s chest and hear his heart beating. He inhaled Potter’s scent deeply and tried to memorise it.
They stayed that way for several minutes, just breathing, neither one going back to sleep. Watching the room fill up with light.
Draco was conflicted. He didn’t want to ruin the mood by talking, but something had been bothering him.
“Potter,” he began.
“Do you think that you can bring yourself to call me Harry?”
“Oh. Well, yes. I mean, of course,” Draco mumbled.
“Harry,” he began again.
“Mmmhmm,” Harry said, while planting several small kisses on the top of Draco’s head.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“More questions? Why must you always be so inquisitive?” Harry retorted.
Draco lifted his head and looked up at Harry. Harry was tugging lightly on several strands of his hair. Draco reached up and stilled Harry’s hand and began to softly run his fingers through the dark, wild strands.
“You fascinate me, Harry,” he heard himself say it before he could do anything to stop it from coming out. He quickly dropped his eyes to Harry’s chest again, his hand stilling in Harry’s hair.
“I know that, Draco. I know that’s why you come here. You’re trying to figure me out and part of me really doesn’t want to give you that satisfaction.” Harry’s tone was serious, but not hostile. He reached down and lifted Draco’s head so their eyes would meet. “But I will answer your question, because I find that I quite like having you around. I’m not ready yet for you to give up on me and leave.”
Draco was surprised to hear all of this. Perhaps there was more going on in Harry’s mind than he had given credit for.
“So what is your question?” Harry asked, not unkindly.
“The other night, when I was asking you about Bavaria, you seemed to be having trouble thinking of things to tell me about it.” Draco moved his hand from Harry’s hair to his jaw and explored the stubble there. “You were struggling to think of something to say.”
“I am waiting for the question,” Harry said.
“Well, is it really that hard for you to think of anything about Bavaria? Why? I mean, have you forgotten all about it already?” Draco asked.
Harry closed his eyes and rubbed them with his knuckles before answering. “No,” he said finally, and dropped his hands to the bed. “No, it’s the opposite actually. There are too many things to say. It’s like, I wouldn’t be able to do it justice. I can’t explain it right, so it’s hard to try.” Harry opened his eyes slowly. “Sometimes I think my memories may be safer if I just leave them in my head.”
Draco couldn’t understand what Harry meant. “But you can share your memories with other people,” he argued.
“No.” Harry shook his head. “No, it’s much safer to leave my memories in my head where they belong.”
Harry gently pushed Draco off of himself then and began to rise from the bed. Obviously, the conversation was over.
“I need to go for a run,” Harry said as he got up.
“Okay,” Draco said, getting up as well. “I should get going anyway. Need to head home for my clothes and shower and all that.”
Harry nodded and sat down to begin pulling on sweat pants. “So, tonight?” He said, looking up at Draco with his eyebrows raised.
“Today is Wednesday,” Draco said. “I always have dinner with my parents on Wednesdays.”
Harry’s face fell.
Draco sat down beside Harry again and put his hand on his back. “I will come tomorrow, though. Is that okay?”
Harry shrugged. “Yeah, okay, tomorrow.” He stood to finish getting dressed and quickly shoved his feet into his shoes. “I’m going to head out now,” he stated.
“Okay,” Draco said.
Harry was about to leave the room, but Draco jumped up and stopped him with a hand on his arm. Harry turned and looked at Draco. Draco kissed him, forcefully. He needed Harry to respond to him, which he did in short order. Soon, their tongues were fighting for dominance. Finally, Harry pulled back panting. He stood and stared at Draco for a moment without speaking. His eyes were hard.
Then he turned and ran down the stairs and out the front door which seemed to shake the whole house when it slammed shut.
*-*-*
Draco hadn’t been making up the story about the antique brooms. He actually did spend his entire day Wednesday and most of Thursday morning pricing them. It was tedious work that required a great deal of research. First he had to find the catalogues listing the original prices of the brooms, then he had to work through a complicated appreciation formula. His final number would depend on what kind of shape the broom was in, whether it was still usable, and if not, whether it could be relatively easily refurbished. At the end of that, he would know approximately what the broom was worth and could then decide what price to start the bidding at.
He had just figured the starting bid for the final broom in the collection when there was an unexpected knock at the door of the gallery room he was working in. He was surprised when he looked up and saw Granger standing just outside the door.
“Hello, Draco,” she said. “Your associates told me where to find you. Is this a bad time?”
Draco got up from the table he had been working at and stretched his shoulders as he walked to the door. “Not at all, actually I just finished pricing all of those antique brooms I told you about.”
Granger peered into the room with obvious interest.
“Would you like to take a look at some of them?” He asked.
“Would that be okay?” She asked tentatively.
“Of course.” Draco walked to one of the tables, where he had several brooms laid out.
Granger followed him, her eyes wide. “This one is lovely,” she remarked, looking at a particularly valuable mahogany racing broom.
“Ah, yes,” Draco said, enjoying his audience, he put on his ‘museum tone’. “That is a Nimbus Triple Diamond edition. One of the only ride-able brooms left in its class.” Draco gently lifted the handle, to show Granger the diamond insignia. “This particular model was very popular around the turn of the thirteenth century. It is a very exclusive, high-end model. Really, only the wealthiest, professional Quidditch players would have been able to afford it.” Draco gently laid the broom back down on the table. “When it goes up for auction, the bidding will likely begin at around sixty thousand Galleons.
Granger gasped. “That is amazing. How has it been kept in such excellent condition all these years?”
“Very strong preservation charms, updated regularly, religiously,” Draco explained. “This broom has had the best of care. It really is a wonder that it’s been handed down to so many generations of responsible owners.”
Granger continued to admire a couple of other brooms for a moment, glancing at some of the notes that Draco had made on them. Draco waited patiently, he understood her fascination completely.
Finally, she looked up and regarded him for a moment before speaking.
“I didn’t come here to talk about brooms,” she said.
“I gathered as much.”
“Actually, I want to talk to you about Harry.”
“Ah, of course,” Draco said, understanding dawning. He quickly made a decision. “I was actually just about to go out for a bite of early lunch. Would you like to join me? Then we can talk all you like,” Draco proposed.
Granger was clearly surprised at this invitation, but not unpleasantly. “That sounds like a wonderful idea,” she answered.
“Excellent,” Draco replied. “I just need to fetch my cloak, my office is right down the next corridor.”
Granger followed Draco, after he locked up the gallery room, to get his cloak from his office. It was chilly out still, but the sun was shining with not a cloud in the sky. It was a wonderfully crisp day. One where you could really tell that Spring was finally on the way.
They decided to have lunch at La Repas, a lovely little French bistro in an upscale shopping complex that had just been completed in an expansion development in Diagon Alley. It was on the far end of town from Christies. So they Apparated and met in front of the building. Once they had both arrived, they were quickly seated, as it was still a bit on the early side for lunch.
They both decided what to order quickly and soon enough, there was nothing left for them to do but talk.
Granger coughed. “So, about Harry,” she began. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that he is bit different since returning from Bavaria and building the new house.”
She paused and looked at Draco expectantly.
“I have noticed a difference, yes,” he confirmed for her.
“He won’t talk about Bavaria,” she continued. “He was there for a year. He doesn’t tell stories about it, people he met, where he was living, nothing. He just gets annoyed when we ask.” Granger spoke more quickly now. “He swears up and down that nothing bad happened to him there, said he had a lovely time, but just doesn’t want to talk about it.” Granger was picking up steam. “I mean, honestly, who spends a year abroad, has a lovely time, and then refuses to talk to his friends about it?”
Their drinks arrived then and Granger took a quick sip of hers before continuing. “Furthermore, he won’t talk about burning down Grimmauld Place. Did you know, he did that himself? No permit, no magical destruction crew. He even did it the Muggle way. No incendio. He poured kerosene all around the inside of the house and then took a match to it. Stood there and watched the whole thing burn to the ground. Actually below the ground, because the basement foundations were gone too.”
She sat back and stared at Draco now, waiting for a reaction.
“That’s pretty extreme,” he offered
Granger seemed satisfied with this because she nodded and then continued. “I mean, I understand that he never really liked that house. I can certainly see why he wouldn’t want to live there. He had been trying to renovate it while he was in Auror training. But most of the dark items refused to be removed. The portrait of Sirius’ mother with the permanent sticking charm was just the beginning. Dark books of spells in the library would be removed one day, only to appear back in the same places the next day. The mounted house elf heads were impossible to remove as well. The Black family tree was such a part of the wall, that the only way to remove it would have been to remove the wall completely. It was a supporting wall, though, so a new wall would have had to be rebuilt in its place for the upper floors not to sink down, but there was no way of knowing whether the family tree would re-appear on a new wall built in the same place.”
Their food arrived then and Granger began to blow on her soup and pick at her salad and was quiet for a moment.
“I never liked that house,” Draco told her, honestly. “I don’t blame Harry for destroying it.” Draco began to eat his soup.
“Harry?” Granger repeated, looking at him quizzically. “Since when has he been ‘Harry’ to you?”
“Since he asked me to call him that.”
“That’s another thing I wanted to talk you about,” Granger started up again, her food forgotten. “What exactly is the nature of your relationship with Harry?” she asked pointedly.
“What exactly do you mean?” Draco asked, trying not to give away too much. He didn’t know how much Harry would want Granger to know.
“Well, I spoke to him over the Floo yesterday- isn’t it amazing? He actually did fire-call me like he said he would- and he said the two of you have been spending a lot of time together.”
“We have,” Draco confirmed.
Granger sighed. She took another bite of her salad and seemed to think while she chewed. When she finished the bite she said, “he actually sounded better yesterday than he has in a while. He says he really likes you, but he doesn’t trust you.”
“I am not entirely convinced that Harry trusts anyone right now.” Draco told her.
“Good point,” she conceded. She measured Draco with her eyes for a moment before seeming to make a decision. “What is this all about, Draco? This thing you are doing with Harry, what are your intentions?” She leaned forward in her seat and locked eyes with him. “Please be honest with me. Harry is my best friend and I miss him. There is nothing I want more than to have him back to his old self again. I think you may be able to help him, but I’m also afraid that you are going to hurt him and he will be worse off after you’re gone,” she said, her tone pleading. Slowly, she sat back and waited for Draco’s response.
Draco took a long swallow before deciding to level with her. “I have no intention of hurting Harry. To be perfectly honest, I want the same as you, to see Harry back to his old self. However, as you say, I have spent a lot of time with him lately, and I am beginning to wonder if perhaps trying to make Harry the way he was before is the wrong answer.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, don’t you think our life experiences are meant to change us? People grow and develop throughout their lives. We aren’t supposed to stay the same forever.” Draco paused to choose his next words carefully. “Whatever happened to Harry in Bavaria, good or bad, it changed him. We shouldn’t expect him to be the same as he was when he left.”
“I suppose that’s true,” Granger acknowledged. “But what about the house?”
“What about it?”
“Well, he had this lovely house built and now he seems to hate it.”
“How do you figure that?”
“He hasn’t done a thing with it. Have you noticed that it’s not decorated or personalized at all? He has only the most essential furniture. There are not curtains, or rugs, or anything hung on the walls. The house is like… a hollow shell. All of the dishes and towels and things like that, he didn’t pick them out. He just told Kreacher to furnish the house with the essentials.”
Granger began to tug at a strand of her hair lightly. “Do you know that he wouldn’t even stay with me while the new house was being built?” she asked, a bit hysterically. “I begged him, but he said he would just be in the way. He stayed in a room at the Leaky Cauldron instead.”
“I guess you took that personally,” Draco said, strangely sympathizing with Granger.
She nodded. “I am sorry that I am going on so much about this. It’s just that Ron has been gone for so long and there really isn’t anyone else around that I can talk to about it. I know I’ve been neglecting Harry, I’ve been spending so much time on my work with the Ministry. But… It’s hard to want to be around Harry when he hasn’t really treated me like a best friend in a very long time. It starts to hurt, you know?”
“I believe I do,” Draco confirmed.
Granger sat back now, as if she had finally said all she needed to. She remembered her soup and found that it was cold. After a quick warming charm, she began to eat it.
Draco was at a loss. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say at this point. His head was swimming with all of the new information that he had just gotten about Harry. But he also felt compelled to say something to make Granger feel less morose.
“You know what I think?” he asked.
“Hmmm?” she said as she sipped her soup.
“I think Harry is very lucky to have you for a friend.”
“Oh?” she said, raising an eyebrow.
“After how nasty I was to you in school, you’ve just sat here and poured your guts out to me, purely out of concern for your friend. Not a lot of people would have the courage to do that. I suppose you really are a Gryffindor.”
She smiled and said, “The Sorting Hat actually wanted to put me in Ravenclaw at first.”
“Nah,” Draco said. “Your passion marks you as a Gryffindor for sure. Ravenclaws are way too detached in their objective, scholarly ways. Bit boring, if you ask me.”
Granger laughed a bit now. “Thank you, Draco,” she said. “I think Harry is lucky to have you. He talked more to me yesterday than he has in years.” Suddenly, Granger looked down at her watch. “Oh, I didn’t realize how late it was getting. I need to get back.” She opened her purse and began pulling out money to pay for her food.
“Granger,” Draco said. “Before you go, I just have one question.”
“I suppose you have earned one question,” she said. “What is it?”
“Whatever happened with Harry and Weasley?”
“Ron?”
“No, the girl one.” For some reason, Draco couldn’t bring himself to say her name.
“Oh, Ginny,” Granger said, understanding. “Well, he wouldn’t say much right after they broke up. But when he got back from Bavaria, he said it really just ended because he realized he was gay.” She said all of this very matter-of-factly.
“Oh,” Draco said. He was glad to know that at least part of Harry’s history was pretty simple.
“Thank you for having lunch with me, Draco,” Granger said, as she pulled on her cloak.
“My pleasure,” Draco said, nodding to her as she walked out.
Draco stayed at the table for quite some time after she left, drinking tea, and pondering everything he had just learned.
*-*-*
Draco arrived at Harry’s house that night precisely at seven with a bag full of groceries. Harry looked at him and the bag quizzically when he opened the door and Draco explained.
“I decided I would cook for you tonight,” Draco said before giving Harry a small kiss on the cheek and walking back to the kitchen.
He set his bag on the counter and opened the refrigerator to see what kinds of ingredients Harry already had. When Harry finally reached the kitchen after following slowly behind him, he asked, “Where does all this food come from, Harry?”
Harry scratched his head. “Uh, the store, I suppose. I don’t really know, Kreacher brings it.”
“Oh,” Draco said. A bit disappointed to learn that Harry wasn’t even getting out of the house to shop. He had to wonder about Granger’s take on things, though. If Harry hated this house so much, as she supposed, how come he spent all of his time in it?
Draco set about preparing their meal, chicken marinara over angel hair pasta with French bread, tossed salad, and Pinot Noir, his favorite wine. He was content to let Harry sit and watch him in silence as he cooked. He was pleased to discover that Kreacher had outfitted the kitchen impeccably. He had chosen all high-end cookware and dishes.
Just as he was finishing the meal, he found that even the cork screw was fancy, it had all sorts of attachments and was kept in its own special hard covered case. Harry said he had never seen it before, he only knew it existed after Draco had asked him if he had one. Harry had said, “accio wine bottle opener” and it came flying out of a drawer in the china hutch in the dining room. Harry said he had never had wine in this house before. For some reason, this bit of information made Draco sadder than just about everything he had learned at lunch today.
Finally, they sat down to eat. Harry commented politely that the food was good, but said little else.
Harry was about half done with his plate when he suddenly looked up at Draco and said, “Look, I’m sorry about running out so quickly the other morning. I just… wasn’t expecting to feel… so much… when you asked me about Bavaria. I just want you to know that I’m not angry with you or anything.”
Draco was surprised to hear all of this. He had practically forgotten about their awkward parting the day before. “It’s okay, Harry. I’m not upset. You don’t have to talk about Bavaria anymore, if you don’t want to.”
Harry nodded at this and went back to eating.
After they finished, Draco got out the cream cakes he had brought for desert. Harry was delighted, he said that cream cakes were his favorite. Draco was glad because he had no idea what kind of desert Harry would like, but he had passed a bakery on the way over and these were a shot in the dark.
Draco was finding more and more that even if he could only make Harry pleased about little things, he was happy.
*-*-*
Harry suggested immediately after they finished eating that they watch telly. He said there was a Quidditch game on the new Wizarding Wireless Television network. Draco agreed to this mostly just to please Harry, but also because he enjoyed watching Quidditch. He had only watched telly a handful of times in his life and still wasn’t entirely comfortable with it even as it was becoming more common in Wizarding households. He figured it was likely that the main reason Harry suggested it was so that they wouldn’t have to talk, but he found that he didn’t really mind. It was nice to let himself just relax and enjoy Harry’s company for a while.
Interestingly, they ended up talking more that night than they had on any of their prior evenings together. They talked about Quidditch through the whole game. It was brilliant, and Draco wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before. What a wonderful neutral subject, something they both enjoyed. He felt a bit sorry for Granger, struggling to talk to Harry all these months, of course she wouldn’t think to talk about Quidditch, poor girl.
The evening ended with some spectacular lovemaking. On the couch, this time, so Draco didn’t have too much trouble making his escape to be able to sleep in his own bed.
He left Harry that night, feeling somehow like he was getting somewhere with him. There had been no major breakthroughs to speak of, but if nothing else, he now knew that if he wanted a sure fire way to get Harry to show interest in something, he only need ask him about Quidditch.
*-*-*
Things carried on about the same for almost a week before Draco began to get restless again. Ever since Granger had mentioned that she didn’t think Harry liked his house, he couldn’t help but notice that a lot of what she said was right. There were no coverings on any of the wood floors, nothing on the windows. The walls were all a stark white. There were no personal items anywhere, no pictures, no books, just… nothing.
He also couldn’t help but be frustrated that Harry still wasn’t really doing anything with himself and didn’t seem inclined to start any time soon. Aside from the running, and going out with Draco, there was no evidence that Harry ever even left his house. Part of Draco knew that it was silly to think that after six months of inertia, Harry was suddenly going to become motivated simply from spending a few weeks in Draco’s company. As silly as it was, though, Draco realized that was exactly what he had expected to happen.
He was thinking about all of this on a Thursday evening while lying on Harry’s bed and waiting for him to get out of the shower. Draco had finished up with work early and arrived at Harry’s house to find that he hadn’t showered yet, so Draco decided to have a little rest on the bed while Harry cleaned up.
Draco could hear that Harry had gotten out of the shower and could see through the partially open door to the bathroom, that he was now lathering shaving cream on his face. Interesting, he still shaved the Muggle way, just as he brushed his teeth the Muggle way. Draco wasn’t about to ask why, since it had seemed to upset Harry when he asked about the teeth. No, for some reason, he thought it would be better to just finally ask Harry about the house.
“Have you ever thought about doing something with your house, Harry?” He asked.
“Huh,” Harry asked from the bathroom. He finished shaving a strip of his cheek and turned to look at Draco, pulling the door open a bit more as he did. “What?”
God, he looked delicious, Draco thought. Harry had a white towel slung low around his hips. His hair was a wet mess, little droplets of water coming down off of it adorned his shoulders and chest. Draco wanted to eat him alive, just as he was at this very moment. He sat up to drink in Harry’s look a bit better.
“Uh, the house, you haven’t done much with it,” he explained.
Harry shrugged and turned back to the sink to finish shaving. “Not much to do with it really. I live in it. Isn’t that what houses are for?”
Draco thought it was probably a good sign that Harry was at least trying to explain himself a bit, rather than just shrugging as he would have a few weeks ago.
“Have you ever thought about maybe, decorating it? Put up some pictures, or something. Don’t you have any books?” he asked.
Harry finished shaving before saying anything else. He was wiping the last bits of shaving foam from his face with a cloth when he came into the bedroom and sat down across from Draco on the bed. Finally, he put the cloth down on his lap. “Have you been talking to Hermione?” he asked, his voice flat.
“Yes,” Draco answered honestly.
“Why?”
“She is worried about you. She is your friend, Harry. She misses you.”
Harry’s eyes fell. “I know,” he said sadly.
He got up and went back to the bathroom, not saying any more. Draco watched while he brushed and flossed his teeth. Finally, he went into the closet to get dressed. When he came out in a T-shirt and jeans, Draco patted the bed, implying that Harry should sit down next to him, which he did.
“Why did you burn down the old house, Harry?” he asked pointedly.
When Harry answered, there was venom in his eyes. “I hated that house,” he spat.
“Is that why you felt the need to douse it with kerosene and light the match with your own two hands?”
Harry nodded. “I watched, the entire time. It was magnificent,” his eyes had a crazed look to them for just an instant before they went back to normal and he was flopping back on the bed. He closed his eyes and began rubbing at them with his knuckles.
He took a few deep breaths before speaking again. “That house was everything that was wrong with my life, Draco.”
Draco waited. Harry’s lids slowly opened and he looked at Draco with watery eyes.
“Okay,” Draco offered. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do.
Harry closed his eyes again and he said, “damn you,” so softly that Draco almost couldn’t hear it.
“Pardon?” He asked, surprised.
Harry spoke louder this time. “I said, damn you! Damn you for… for asking me about this, making me think about it. Do you really even give a fuck, or is this all just mildly entertaining for you?”
With that, Harry got up and walked out on to the bedroom balcony.
When Draco joined him, Harry didn’t say anything. He just continued staring out at the sky. Draco took a chance and gently wrapped his arms around Harry from behind. He rested his chin on top of Harry’s head, his hair smelled like shampoo. He was relieved when Harry didn’t throw him off. He was very careful when he finally spoke. “I do care, Harry. I care more than I’d like to admit. If I wanted entertainment, I would see a show.” He gently took Harry’s hands from where they were gripping the railing so tightly that his knuckles were turning white, and began to massage them lightly. “I am not particularly good with… feelings. The last thing I want to do is to make you hurt.”
When he said that, Harry disentangled himself and walked back into the room. He sat down on the bed and leaned against the headboard and began to chew on his cuticles.
Draco followed and sat down across from him.
Harry looked up at him, his eyes were clear and piercing. “It does hurt, though,” he said. “It hurts like… like when I start to think about it, there is this weight on my heart. Like, a ton. All this weight is sitting on my heart and I can’t move out from under it. It hurts my heart, Draco.” Harry’s voice right now was the saddest thing Draco that had ever heard.
Draco didn’t know what to do. He was torn, he wanted to tell Harry never to think of it again if it hurt so much. He didn’t want Harry to hurt. But somehow, he knew that Harry would never be able to get out from under this, whatever it was, until he’d let himself feel the hurt, as hard as that might be.
Draco carefully changed his position so that he was sitting next to Harry on the bed, leaning against the headboard. He pulled one of Harry’s hands into his lap and held it there. “So tell me about it,” he said firmly.
Harry moaned when he said this. “Oh God, Draco, why? I just. I just can’t,” he choked out.
Draco steeled his nerves to remain calm. “I think you had better. Since you’ve started, now is as good a time as any. I don’t think you can run from this forever, Harry. Don’t you want to start your life again?”
“I don’t,” Harry answered quickly.
“I hope you change your mind about that,” Draco said.
“How do I know…” Harry started, his voice wavering. “How do I know that I won’t simply fall apart completely?” The hand Draco held began to tremble slightly and Harry squeezed his eyes shut. Draco tightened his grip as Harry continued. “I mean, if I tell you everything. Once the pieces start coming out, how do I know they won’t all just come crashing down around me?” Harry’s pitch was rising. “I think they will, Draco. I think I will fall apart.” Harry’s voice was bordering on hysterical now.
Draco squeezed Harry’s hand, then kissed it firmly. “I won’t let you fall apart.” He said. He looked at Harry now. “I promise.”
“You promise?” Harry asked, his voice calmer and his eyes open.
“I promise,” Draco said with resolve. He tried again, “So tell me about Grimmauld Place, the house that was everything that was wrong with your life.”
Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I kept trying to renovate it, you know?”
Draco nodded.
Harry continued. “It wouldn’t work. I swear, I think that house hated me. I couldn’t get rid of all the awful dark magic. It was like hell living there.” Harry stopped for a moment and scratched at the back of his neck. “It was while I was in Bavaria that I got the idea to burn it down. In Wurzburg, everything was different. No one knew me there. It was… amazing. I hardly ever even used magic there. I wanted to bring that feeling back with me, that ‘starting over’ feeling.” He moved his hand from scratching his neck to scratching his other arm now. “It was a bartender actually, who gave me the idea. I didn’t even know her name. I was so drunk on one of my last nights there. I told her I didn’t know how I could start over in England again while I still had that awful house to deal with. And she said, ‘why don’t you just burn it down and build a new house in its place?’”
Harry began rubbing at his face with his free hand now. “And so that’s what I did.” Harry’s voice was tortured as he continued, staring straight ahead as he spoke. “I didn’t think about anything. I just came home and went ahead with this crazy plan. I burned the whole thing down. I wanted to imagine that I was burning down my whole past along with it, everything that happened with Voldemort and the War, everything after that- hurting Ginny, and washing out of Auror training, just… everything.”
Harry grabbed Draco’s hand with the hand that had been in his lap and began to squeeze it tightly. Draco looked up and realized that tears were running down Harry’s cheeks. He had his eyes closed so tightly it should have hurt him, but he kept going, “It didn’t work, though,” he finally forced out with a huge rush of air. He took another deep breath before he spoke again, “It didn’t work, Draco, it’s all still here, everything. I can still feel it, it’s inside me,” he gasped.
He finally turned to look at Draco, tears streaming down his face. “I destroyed Sirius’s house. My Godfather’s house. He left it to me and I burned it down. It’s like I killed him all over again.”
Suddenly Harry was sobbing and Draco gently pulled him close so that he could lay his head in his lap. He began to run his fingers through Harry’s hair and as he listened to Harry cry, he realized that he was crying too.
He couldn’t believe it when Harry wiped at his face and began talking again. “There is nothing left of Godric’s Hollow, my parents old house. Grimmauld Place was like, the one connection I had to someone who cared enough about me to leave something to me. I still dream about that night sometimes, about watching it burn, and then I wake up and I realise that it wasn’t just a dream. I really did that. And now I have nothing left. Just all of the terrible memories of my life that didn’t burn away in the fire!”
Harry blew out a huge gust of air and was silent. His eyes were closed but the tears still came, his body shook slightly every now and then.
Draco just held him and rubbed his arms and back gently.
They must have sat like that for an hour. The room got dark while they were sitting there.
Draco spelled the lamps on a little after eight. “You didn’t kill Sirius,” he finally said.
“I know,” Harry said quietly.
“You know that in your head, right?” Draco said, “But in your heart?”
“It still feels like I did,” Harry finished for him. “Even after all these years. You’d think I would be over this by now,” he said angrily.
Draco pondered this for a moment. “My mother says that whenever something really bad happens to someone, they never get over it completely right away. She says it’s how she feels when she remembers some of the terrible things she saw the Death Eaters do in our house. She says it’s like this; you get over it the best you can right away, but then a few years later, it will come back, and it’s different somehow because you are older and you have a different perspective and so you have to get over it again. And the whole thing repeats itself, on different levels. When someone goes through something truly horrific, they spend their lives recovering from it, over and over again. But that doesn’t mean that they fall apart about it each time. I mean, you have to keep living your life.”
Harry turned over now, so that he was on his back, his head still in Draco’s lap. He looked up at Draco with his bloodshot, sorrowful eyes, “But what about the house?”
“The house is gone, Harry.”
“It’s gone,” Harry repeated in a whisper. He closed his eyes.
“Harry, you hated that house,” Draco reminded him.
“I know I did,” he said resignedly. “I really did.”
Suddenly, Draco felt his stomach growl. Gently, he pushed Harry up into a sitting position. “Come on,” he said.
“What?” Harry whined.
“It’s time to eat,” Draco replied.
“Nothing’s prepared, it’s late” Harry argued, still whining.
“Kreacher will make us something. You shouldn’t go to sleep without eating,” Draco reasoned.
He pulled Harry up off the bed and held him as they walked downstairs.
He had Kreacher make them simple club sandwiches to eat.
After dinner, they sat on the couch and had tea while watching some crime show on the telly. Harry was asleep, with his head in Draco’s lap again before the show was even half over.
After the show, Draco gently levitated Harry up to bed, spelled of his clothes except for his under pants and tucked him in. Then he crawled into the bed next to him and held him for the rest of the night.
*-*-*
Draco made Harry an omelet for breakfast the next morning before he left for work. While he and Harry were sitting at the kitchen table sipping their coffee after they had finished eating, he thought of something.
“Did you really wash out of Auror training, Harry?” he asked.
Harry choked on his coffee a bit but nodded and smiled. “I did,” he said. “I was terrible, it wasn’t where I wanted to be. I kind of knew it by the end of eighth year at Hogwarts. The only reason I even did the training was because I didn’t have a clue what else I wanted to do with my life.” Harry set his coffee cup down gently. “That’s actually part of the reason I went to Bavaria, to figure out what I wanted to do with my life.”
“Oh?” Draco asked, “And what is it that you want to do with your life?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” Harry smiled as he said this and began rising from the table. “And now, I must run.” He planted a quick kiss on Draco’s cheek. “See you tonight.”
*-*-*
Draco decided to take Harry out that night. They went to the oldest and best Chinese restaurant in Diagon Alley. The air was warm as they walked back to Harry’s house after eating. They hadn’t even brought their cloaks with them. As they walked side by side in silence, Draco felt that the change in Harry’s demeanour was palpable that night, despite the lack of conversation. Draco was hard pressed to explain it, but he never felt for a second that Harry’s mind wasn’t present, right there with him, actually experiencing the evening instead of floating through it. Also, he found that he was beginning to get used to Harry’s persistent quietness. Not talking really wasn’t the worst thing in the world.
Suddenly, Draco stopped and grabbed Harry’s arm to stop him as well. He had just thought of something. “Come back to my place tonight,” he said, realizing that for some reason, he had never thought to invite Harry to his flat.
Harry look a bit surprised, but said, “Okay.”
Somehow, it felt very urgently like Draco needed to show Harry where he lived. “Let’s Apparate, I can Side-Along-Apparate you.”
Harry shrugged, “Okay, if that’s what you want to do.”
“I do,” he said and quickly wrapped his arms around Harry and Apparated them both to his flat.
They arrived in the foyer, just inside the front door.
“Let me take you on a tour,” Draco said as soon as they’d arrived.
“Okay,” Harry said, but was cut off as Draco took his hand and began to drag him toward the kitchen. In the kitchen, Draco showed Harry all of his favourite cook books, most of them French and told him the stories of when he had gotten them and what his favourite recipes were in them.
Next was the living room. As they walked around the room, Harry stopped for a moment and looked at all of the family photos that Draco had framed on the mantlepiece.
“Harry,” he began, “You kept pictures of your family, didn’t you? I mean, you do have photos of your parents and friends, right?” He asked, suddenly a bit concerned.
“Yes, I do,” Harry answered, turning to look at him. “I keep them in photo albums. I think they are in a drawer in one of the guest bedrooms.”
Draco was relieved to know that Harry hadn’t burned his photographs and proceeded to tell him a little bit about some of the pictures on the mantlepiece.
Next, they went into his study, which was his favourite room in the whole flat. His desk was an antique and was probably the single most important purchase he had made in France. It was exactly like the one that had been in his father’s study growing up. Unfortunately, his father’s desk had been repossessed by the Ministry after it was found that the locked drawers were all full of dark artifacts. His desk of course, housed nothing like that, just papers and files mostly. He showed Harry all of this and Harry just listened and smiled and nodded while he talked.
Finally, they ended up in Draco’s bedroom. Draco had just finished telling Harry about the day he purchased the six hundred thread count sheets when Harry said, “I know what you are trying to do, Draco.”
“Oh?” Draco asked, raising an eyebrow. “I just thought I would tell you some things about myself that you didn’t know. I mean, I have spent all of this time trying to get you to tell me about yourself and have barely told you anything about me. That’s hardly fair.”
Harry sat down on the bed and looked up at Draco with his eyebrows raised. He patted the bed beside him and Draco sat down. “And that’s why you’ve told me about all of your home’s lovely furnishings?” he asked.
Draco shrugged. “Well, what better way is there to learn about someone than to see their home?”
“What better way, indeed.” Harry was looking at Draco now in a feral way that should have made him uncomfortable, but instead made him very, very excited. Harry moved closer to him now, his face was mere inches away when he spoke again. “I can think of a better way to get to know someone,” he said, his breath was steamy on Draco’s face, it smelled of dumplings. “And I can think of a few fantastic uses for these absurdly expensive sheets of yours.” And with that, Harry was kissing him. He tasted of dumplings too.
In two seconds, Draco had his hands under Harry’s shirt, pulling it off over his head and then he was on his back and Harry was looming over him. Harry pushed Draco’s shirt up to his armpits and began to suck on his nipples. While still continuing to suck, Harry managed to push Draco’s shirt up his arms and off over his head before throwing it to the floor.
Draco was panting as Harry began to bite at one of his nipples. He had his hands in Harry’s hair and tugged on it to bring Harry’s head back up to his own. He claimed Harry’s lips again and then planted his hands at Harry’s sides to roll them over so that Harry was laying flat on his back. He began to suckle gently at Harry’s neck, making beautiful, little, blue hickeys all up and down his neck, claiming this man as his own.
Suddenly, Draco pushed himself up and looked down into Harry’s eyes.
“Harry,” he said. “I’ve never fucked anyone on these sheets before.”
Harry threw his head back and laughed riotously at that, exposing the long line of pale skin, now marked with Draco’s love bites. Draco touched them tenderly. When Harry finally stopped laughing, he brought his head back down and looked at Draco, his eyes were serious now.
“Draco,” he said “I’ve changed my mind.”
“What about?” Draco asked, absently, as he ran his fingers through several strands of Harry’s dark hair.
“I do want to start my life again,” Harry said, his eyes still very serious.
Draco smiled at this. “Harry,” he said. “You already have.”
Harry smiled back at Draco then. And Draco was blind.
Author: Anonymous
Prompt: #130 Submitted by: eruditefics
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Summary: Harry experiences some delayed post traumatic stress and Draco helps him process it.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own any of this. It all belongs to JKR.
Warning(s): EWE
Word Count: about 16,000
Beta(s): alovelycupoftea, emansil_08
Author's Notes: The title comes from the song “The Fragile” by Nine Inch Nails, which can be heard here at YouTube:The Fragile. Special thanks to alaana_fair for handholding.
Draco woke early the next morning, the grey light of just before dawn hovered about the room.
He turned and saw that Potter was already awake as well and was studying him intently.
“Were you watching me sleep?” he asked, somewhat incredulous.
“I suppose I was,” Potter answered lazily. He opened his arms then and gestured that Draco should come and lay against him.
Draco gently situated himself where he could lay his head on Potter’s chest and hear his heart beating. He inhaled Potter’s scent deeply and tried to memorise it.
They stayed that way for several minutes, just breathing, neither one going back to sleep. Watching the room fill up with light.
Draco was conflicted. He didn’t want to ruin the mood by talking, but something had been bothering him.
“Potter,” he began.
“Do you think that you can bring yourself to call me Harry?”
“Oh. Well, yes. I mean, of course,” Draco mumbled.
“Harry,” he began again.
“Mmmhmm,” Harry said, while planting several small kisses on the top of Draco’s head.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“More questions? Why must you always be so inquisitive?” Harry retorted.
Draco lifted his head and looked up at Harry. Harry was tugging lightly on several strands of his hair. Draco reached up and stilled Harry’s hand and began to softly run his fingers through the dark, wild strands.
“You fascinate me, Harry,” he heard himself say it before he could do anything to stop it from coming out. He quickly dropped his eyes to Harry’s chest again, his hand stilling in Harry’s hair.
“I know that, Draco. I know that’s why you come here. You’re trying to figure me out and part of me really doesn’t want to give you that satisfaction.” Harry’s tone was serious, but not hostile. He reached down and lifted Draco’s head so their eyes would meet. “But I will answer your question, because I find that I quite like having you around. I’m not ready yet for you to give up on me and leave.”
Draco was surprised to hear all of this. Perhaps there was more going on in Harry’s mind than he had given credit for.
“So what is your question?” Harry asked, not unkindly.
“The other night, when I was asking you about Bavaria, you seemed to be having trouble thinking of things to tell me about it.” Draco moved his hand from Harry’s hair to his jaw and explored the stubble there. “You were struggling to think of something to say.”
“I am waiting for the question,” Harry said.
“Well, is it really that hard for you to think of anything about Bavaria? Why? I mean, have you forgotten all about it already?” Draco asked.
Harry closed his eyes and rubbed them with his knuckles before answering. “No,” he said finally, and dropped his hands to the bed. “No, it’s the opposite actually. There are too many things to say. It’s like, I wouldn’t be able to do it justice. I can’t explain it right, so it’s hard to try.” Harry opened his eyes slowly. “Sometimes I think my memories may be safer if I just leave them in my head.”
Draco couldn’t understand what Harry meant. “But you can share your memories with other people,” he argued.
“No.” Harry shook his head. “No, it’s much safer to leave my memories in my head where they belong.”
Harry gently pushed Draco off of himself then and began to rise from the bed. Obviously, the conversation was over.
“I need to go for a run,” Harry said as he got up.
“Okay,” Draco said, getting up as well. “I should get going anyway. Need to head home for my clothes and shower and all that.”
Harry nodded and sat down to begin pulling on sweat pants. “So, tonight?” He said, looking up at Draco with his eyebrows raised.
“Today is Wednesday,” Draco said. “I always have dinner with my parents on Wednesdays.”
Harry’s face fell.
Draco sat down beside Harry again and put his hand on his back. “I will come tomorrow, though. Is that okay?”
Harry shrugged. “Yeah, okay, tomorrow.” He stood to finish getting dressed and quickly shoved his feet into his shoes. “I’m going to head out now,” he stated.
“Okay,” Draco said.
Harry was about to leave the room, but Draco jumped up and stopped him with a hand on his arm. Harry turned and looked at Draco. Draco kissed him, forcefully. He needed Harry to respond to him, which he did in short order. Soon, their tongues were fighting for dominance. Finally, Harry pulled back panting. He stood and stared at Draco for a moment without speaking. His eyes were hard.
Then he turned and ran down the stairs and out the front door which seemed to shake the whole house when it slammed shut.
*-*-*
Draco hadn’t been making up the story about the antique brooms. He actually did spend his entire day Wednesday and most of Thursday morning pricing them. It was tedious work that required a great deal of research. First he had to find the catalogues listing the original prices of the brooms, then he had to work through a complicated appreciation formula. His final number would depend on what kind of shape the broom was in, whether it was still usable, and if not, whether it could be relatively easily refurbished. At the end of that, he would know approximately what the broom was worth and could then decide what price to start the bidding at.
He had just figured the starting bid for the final broom in the collection when there was an unexpected knock at the door of the gallery room he was working in. He was surprised when he looked up and saw Granger standing just outside the door.
“Hello, Draco,” she said. “Your associates told me where to find you. Is this a bad time?”
Draco got up from the table he had been working at and stretched his shoulders as he walked to the door. “Not at all, actually I just finished pricing all of those antique brooms I told you about.”
Granger peered into the room with obvious interest.
“Would you like to take a look at some of them?” He asked.
“Would that be okay?” She asked tentatively.
“Of course.” Draco walked to one of the tables, where he had several brooms laid out.
Granger followed him, her eyes wide. “This one is lovely,” she remarked, looking at a particularly valuable mahogany racing broom.
“Ah, yes,” Draco said, enjoying his audience, he put on his ‘museum tone’. “That is a Nimbus Triple Diamond edition. One of the only ride-able brooms left in its class.” Draco gently lifted the handle, to show Granger the diamond insignia. “This particular model was very popular around the turn of the thirteenth century. It is a very exclusive, high-end model. Really, only the wealthiest, professional Quidditch players would have been able to afford it.” Draco gently laid the broom back down on the table. “When it goes up for auction, the bidding will likely begin at around sixty thousand Galleons.
Granger gasped. “That is amazing. How has it been kept in such excellent condition all these years?”
“Very strong preservation charms, updated regularly, religiously,” Draco explained. “This broom has had the best of care. It really is a wonder that it’s been handed down to so many generations of responsible owners.”
Granger continued to admire a couple of other brooms for a moment, glancing at some of the notes that Draco had made on them. Draco waited patiently, he understood her fascination completely.
Finally, she looked up and regarded him for a moment before speaking.
“I didn’t come here to talk about brooms,” she said.
“I gathered as much.”
“Actually, I want to talk to you about Harry.”
“Ah, of course,” Draco said, understanding dawning. He quickly made a decision. “I was actually just about to go out for a bite of early lunch. Would you like to join me? Then we can talk all you like,” Draco proposed.
Granger was clearly surprised at this invitation, but not unpleasantly. “That sounds like a wonderful idea,” she answered.
“Excellent,” Draco replied. “I just need to fetch my cloak, my office is right down the next corridor.”
Granger followed Draco, after he locked up the gallery room, to get his cloak from his office. It was chilly out still, but the sun was shining with not a cloud in the sky. It was a wonderfully crisp day. One where you could really tell that Spring was finally on the way.
They decided to have lunch at La Repas, a lovely little French bistro in an upscale shopping complex that had just been completed in an expansion development in Diagon Alley. It was on the far end of town from Christies. So they Apparated and met in front of the building. Once they had both arrived, they were quickly seated, as it was still a bit on the early side for lunch.
They both decided what to order quickly and soon enough, there was nothing left for them to do but talk.
Granger coughed. “So, about Harry,” she began. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that he is bit different since returning from Bavaria and building the new house.”
She paused and looked at Draco expectantly.
“I have noticed a difference, yes,” he confirmed for her.
“He won’t talk about Bavaria,” she continued. “He was there for a year. He doesn’t tell stories about it, people he met, where he was living, nothing. He just gets annoyed when we ask.” Granger spoke more quickly now. “He swears up and down that nothing bad happened to him there, said he had a lovely time, but just doesn’t want to talk about it.” Granger was picking up steam. “I mean, honestly, who spends a year abroad, has a lovely time, and then refuses to talk to his friends about it?”
Their drinks arrived then and Granger took a quick sip of hers before continuing. “Furthermore, he won’t talk about burning down Grimmauld Place. Did you know, he did that himself? No permit, no magical destruction crew. He even did it the Muggle way. No incendio. He poured kerosene all around the inside of the house and then took a match to it. Stood there and watched the whole thing burn to the ground. Actually below the ground, because the basement foundations were gone too.”
She sat back and stared at Draco now, waiting for a reaction.
“That’s pretty extreme,” he offered
Granger seemed satisfied with this because she nodded and then continued. “I mean, I understand that he never really liked that house. I can certainly see why he wouldn’t want to live there. He had been trying to renovate it while he was in Auror training. But most of the dark items refused to be removed. The portrait of Sirius’ mother with the permanent sticking charm was just the beginning. Dark books of spells in the library would be removed one day, only to appear back in the same places the next day. The mounted house elf heads were impossible to remove as well. The Black family tree was such a part of the wall, that the only way to remove it would have been to remove the wall completely. It was a supporting wall, though, so a new wall would have had to be rebuilt in its place for the upper floors not to sink down, but there was no way of knowing whether the family tree would re-appear on a new wall built in the same place.”
Their food arrived then and Granger began to blow on her soup and pick at her salad and was quiet for a moment.
“I never liked that house,” Draco told her, honestly. “I don’t blame Harry for destroying it.” Draco began to eat his soup.
“Harry?” Granger repeated, looking at him quizzically. “Since when has he been ‘Harry’ to you?”
“Since he asked me to call him that.”
“That’s another thing I wanted to talk you about,” Granger started up again, her food forgotten. “What exactly is the nature of your relationship with Harry?” she asked pointedly.
“What exactly do you mean?” Draco asked, trying not to give away too much. He didn’t know how much Harry would want Granger to know.
“Well, I spoke to him over the Floo yesterday- isn’t it amazing? He actually did fire-call me like he said he would- and he said the two of you have been spending a lot of time together.”
“We have,” Draco confirmed.
Granger sighed. She took another bite of her salad and seemed to think while she chewed. When she finished the bite she said, “he actually sounded better yesterday than he has in a while. He says he really likes you, but he doesn’t trust you.”
“I am not entirely convinced that Harry trusts anyone right now.” Draco told her.
“Good point,” she conceded. She measured Draco with her eyes for a moment before seeming to make a decision. “What is this all about, Draco? This thing you are doing with Harry, what are your intentions?” She leaned forward in her seat and locked eyes with him. “Please be honest with me. Harry is my best friend and I miss him. There is nothing I want more than to have him back to his old self again. I think you may be able to help him, but I’m also afraid that you are going to hurt him and he will be worse off after you’re gone,” she said, her tone pleading. Slowly, she sat back and waited for Draco’s response.
Draco took a long swallow before deciding to level with her. “I have no intention of hurting Harry. To be perfectly honest, I want the same as you, to see Harry back to his old self. However, as you say, I have spent a lot of time with him lately, and I am beginning to wonder if perhaps trying to make Harry the way he was before is the wrong answer.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, don’t you think our life experiences are meant to change us? People grow and develop throughout their lives. We aren’t supposed to stay the same forever.” Draco paused to choose his next words carefully. “Whatever happened to Harry in Bavaria, good or bad, it changed him. We shouldn’t expect him to be the same as he was when he left.”
“I suppose that’s true,” Granger acknowledged. “But what about the house?”
“What about it?”
“Well, he had this lovely house built and now he seems to hate it.”
“How do you figure that?”
“He hasn’t done a thing with it. Have you noticed that it’s not decorated or personalized at all? He has only the most essential furniture. There are not curtains, or rugs, or anything hung on the walls. The house is like… a hollow shell. All of the dishes and towels and things like that, he didn’t pick them out. He just told Kreacher to furnish the house with the essentials.”
Granger began to tug at a strand of her hair lightly. “Do you know that he wouldn’t even stay with me while the new house was being built?” she asked, a bit hysterically. “I begged him, but he said he would just be in the way. He stayed in a room at the Leaky Cauldron instead.”
“I guess you took that personally,” Draco said, strangely sympathizing with Granger.
She nodded. “I am sorry that I am going on so much about this. It’s just that Ron has been gone for so long and there really isn’t anyone else around that I can talk to about it. I know I’ve been neglecting Harry, I’ve been spending so much time on my work with the Ministry. But… It’s hard to want to be around Harry when he hasn’t really treated me like a best friend in a very long time. It starts to hurt, you know?”
“I believe I do,” Draco confirmed.
Granger sat back now, as if she had finally said all she needed to. She remembered her soup and found that it was cold. After a quick warming charm, she began to eat it.
Draco was at a loss. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say at this point. His head was swimming with all of the new information that he had just gotten about Harry. But he also felt compelled to say something to make Granger feel less morose.
“You know what I think?” he asked.
“Hmmm?” she said as she sipped her soup.
“I think Harry is very lucky to have you for a friend.”
“Oh?” she said, raising an eyebrow.
“After how nasty I was to you in school, you’ve just sat here and poured your guts out to me, purely out of concern for your friend. Not a lot of people would have the courage to do that. I suppose you really are a Gryffindor.”
She smiled and said, “The Sorting Hat actually wanted to put me in Ravenclaw at first.”
“Nah,” Draco said. “Your passion marks you as a Gryffindor for sure. Ravenclaws are way too detached in their objective, scholarly ways. Bit boring, if you ask me.”
Granger laughed a bit now. “Thank you, Draco,” she said. “I think Harry is lucky to have you. He talked more to me yesterday than he has in years.” Suddenly, Granger looked down at her watch. “Oh, I didn’t realize how late it was getting. I need to get back.” She opened her purse and began pulling out money to pay for her food.
“Granger,” Draco said. “Before you go, I just have one question.”
“I suppose you have earned one question,” she said. “What is it?”
“Whatever happened with Harry and Weasley?”
“Ron?”
“No, the girl one.” For some reason, Draco couldn’t bring himself to say her name.
“Oh, Ginny,” Granger said, understanding. “Well, he wouldn’t say much right after they broke up. But when he got back from Bavaria, he said it really just ended because he realized he was gay.” She said all of this very matter-of-factly.
“Oh,” Draco said. He was glad to know that at least part of Harry’s history was pretty simple.
“Thank you for having lunch with me, Draco,” Granger said, as she pulled on her cloak.
“My pleasure,” Draco said, nodding to her as she walked out.
Draco stayed at the table for quite some time after she left, drinking tea, and pondering everything he had just learned.
*-*-*
Draco arrived at Harry’s house that night precisely at seven with a bag full of groceries. Harry looked at him and the bag quizzically when he opened the door and Draco explained.
“I decided I would cook for you tonight,” Draco said before giving Harry a small kiss on the cheek and walking back to the kitchen.
He set his bag on the counter and opened the refrigerator to see what kinds of ingredients Harry already had. When Harry finally reached the kitchen after following slowly behind him, he asked, “Where does all this food come from, Harry?”
Harry scratched his head. “Uh, the store, I suppose. I don’t really know, Kreacher brings it.”
“Oh,” Draco said. A bit disappointed to learn that Harry wasn’t even getting out of the house to shop. He had to wonder about Granger’s take on things, though. If Harry hated this house so much, as she supposed, how come he spent all of his time in it?
Draco set about preparing their meal, chicken marinara over angel hair pasta with French bread, tossed salad, and Pinot Noir, his favorite wine. He was content to let Harry sit and watch him in silence as he cooked. He was pleased to discover that Kreacher had outfitted the kitchen impeccably. He had chosen all high-end cookware and dishes.
Just as he was finishing the meal, he found that even the cork screw was fancy, it had all sorts of attachments and was kept in its own special hard covered case. Harry said he had never seen it before, he only knew it existed after Draco had asked him if he had one. Harry had said, “accio wine bottle opener” and it came flying out of a drawer in the china hutch in the dining room. Harry said he had never had wine in this house before. For some reason, this bit of information made Draco sadder than just about everything he had learned at lunch today.
Finally, they sat down to eat. Harry commented politely that the food was good, but said little else.
Harry was about half done with his plate when he suddenly looked up at Draco and said, “Look, I’m sorry about running out so quickly the other morning. I just… wasn’t expecting to feel… so much… when you asked me about Bavaria. I just want you to know that I’m not angry with you or anything.”
Draco was surprised to hear all of this. He had practically forgotten about their awkward parting the day before. “It’s okay, Harry. I’m not upset. You don’t have to talk about Bavaria anymore, if you don’t want to.”
Harry nodded at this and went back to eating.
After they finished, Draco got out the cream cakes he had brought for desert. Harry was delighted, he said that cream cakes were his favorite. Draco was glad because he had no idea what kind of desert Harry would like, but he had passed a bakery on the way over and these were a shot in the dark.
Draco was finding more and more that even if he could only make Harry pleased about little things, he was happy.
*-*-*
Harry suggested immediately after they finished eating that they watch telly. He said there was a Quidditch game on the new Wizarding Wireless Television network. Draco agreed to this mostly just to please Harry, but also because he enjoyed watching Quidditch. He had only watched telly a handful of times in his life and still wasn’t entirely comfortable with it even as it was becoming more common in Wizarding households. He figured it was likely that the main reason Harry suggested it was so that they wouldn’t have to talk, but he found that he didn’t really mind. It was nice to let himself just relax and enjoy Harry’s company for a while.
Interestingly, they ended up talking more that night than they had on any of their prior evenings together. They talked about Quidditch through the whole game. It was brilliant, and Draco wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before. What a wonderful neutral subject, something they both enjoyed. He felt a bit sorry for Granger, struggling to talk to Harry all these months, of course she wouldn’t think to talk about Quidditch, poor girl.
The evening ended with some spectacular lovemaking. On the couch, this time, so Draco didn’t have too much trouble making his escape to be able to sleep in his own bed.
He left Harry that night, feeling somehow like he was getting somewhere with him. There had been no major breakthroughs to speak of, but if nothing else, he now knew that if he wanted a sure fire way to get Harry to show interest in something, he only need ask him about Quidditch.
*-*-*
Things carried on about the same for almost a week before Draco began to get restless again. Ever since Granger had mentioned that she didn’t think Harry liked his house, he couldn’t help but notice that a lot of what she said was right. There were no coverings on any of the wood floors, nothing on the windows. The walls were all a stark white. There were no personal items anywhere, no pictures, no books, just… nothing.
He also couldn’t help but be frustrated that Harry still wasn’t really doing anything with himself and didn’t seem inclined to start any time soon. Aside from the running, and going out with Draco, there was no evidence that Harry ever even left his house. Part of Draco knew that it was silly to think that after six months of inertia, Harry was suddenly going to become motivated simply from spending a few weeks in Draco’s company. As silly as it was, though, Draco realized that was exactly what he had expected to happen.
He was thinking about all of this on a Thursday evening while lying on Harry’s bed and waiting for him to get out of the shower. Draco had finished up with work early and arrived at Harry’s house to find that he hadn’t showered yet, so Draco decided to have a little rest on the bed while Harry cleaned up.
Draco could hear that Harry had gotten out of the shower and could see through the partially open door to the bathroom, that he was now lathering shaving cream on his face. Interesting, he still shaved the Muggle way, just as he brushed his teeth the Muggle way. Draco wasn’t about to ask why, since it had seemed to upset Harry when he asked about the teeth. No, for some reason, he thought it would be better to just finally ask Harry about the house.
“Have you ever thought about doing something with your house, Harry?” He asked.
“Huh,” Harry asked from the bathroom. He finished shaving a strip of his cheek and turned to look at Draco, pulling the door open a bit more as he did. “What?”
God, he looked delicious, Draco thought. Harry had a white towel slung low around his hips. His hair was a wet mess, little droplets of water coming down off of it adorned his shoulders and chest. Draco wanted to eat him alive, just as he was at this very moment. He sat up to drink in Harry’s look a bit better.
“Uh, the house, you haven’t done much with it,” he explained.
Harry shrugged and turned back to the sink to finish shaving. “Not much to do with it really. I live in it. Isn’t that what houses are for?”
Draco thought it was probably a good sign that Harry was at least trying to explain himself a bit, rather than just shrugging as he would have a few weeks ago.
“Have you ever thought about maybe, decorating it? Put up some pictures, or something. Don’t you have any books?” he asked.
Harry finished shaving before saying anything else. He was wiping the last bits of shaving foam from his face with a cloth when he came into the bedroom and sat down across from Draco on the bed. Finally, he put the cloth down on his lap. “Have you been talking to Hermione?” he asked, his voice flat.
“Yes,” Draco answered honestly.
“Why?”
“She is worried about you. She is your friend, Harry. She misses you.”
Harry’s eyes fell. “I know,” he said sadly.
He got up and went back to the bathroom, not saying any more. Draco watched while he brushed and flossed his teeth. Finally, he went into the closet to get dressed. When he came out in a T-shirt and jeans, Draco patted the bed, implying that Harry should sit down next to him, which he did.
“Why did you burn down the old house, Harry?” he asked pointedly.
When Harry answered, there was venom in his eyes. “I hated that house,” he spat.
“Is that why you felt the need to douse it with kerosene and light the match with your own two hands?”
Harry nodded. “I watched, the entire time. It was magnificent,” his eyes had a crazed look to them for just an instant before they went back to normal and he was flopping back on the bed. He closed his eyes and began rubbing at them with his knuckles.
He took a few deep breaths before speaking again. “That house was everything that was wrong with my life, Draco.”
Draco waited. Harry’s lids slowly opened and he looked at Draco with watery eyes.
“Okay,” Draco offered. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do.
Harry closed his eyes again and he said, “damn you,” so softly that Draco almost couldn’t hear it.
“Pardon?” He asked, surprised.
Harry spoke louder this time. “I said, damn you! Damn you for… for asking me about this, making me think about it. Do you really even give a fuck, or is this all just mildly entertaining for you?”
With that, Harry got up and walked out on to the bedroom balcony.
When Draco joined him, Harry didn’t say anything. He just continued staring out at the sky. Draco took a chance and gently wrapped his arms around Harry from behind. He rested his chin on top of Harry’s head, his hair smelled like shampoo. He was relieved when Harry didn’t throw him off. He was very careful when he finally spoke. “I do care, Harry. I care more than I’d like to admit. If I wanted entertainment, I would see a show.” He gently took Harry’s hands from where they were gripping the railing so tightly that his knuckles were turning white, and began to massage them lightly. “I am not particularly good with… feelings. The last thing I want to do is to make you hurt.”
When he said that, Harry disentangled himself and walked back into the room. He sat down on the bed and leaned against the headboard and began to chew on his cuticles.
Draco followed and sat down across from him.
Harry looked up at him, his eyes were clear and piercing. “It does hurt, though,” he said. “It hurts like… like when I start to think about it, there is this weight on my heart. Like, a ton. All this weight is sitting on my heart and I can’t move out from under it. It hurts my heart, Draco.” Harry’s voice right now was the saddest thing Draco that had ever heard.
Draco didn’t know what to do. He was torn, he wanted to tell Harry never to think of it again if it hurt so much. He didn’t want Harry to hurt. But somehow, he knew that Harry would never be able to get out from under this, whatever it was, until he’d let himself feel the hurt, as hard as that might be.
Draco carefully changed his position so that he was sitting next to Harry on the bed, leaning against the headboard. He pulled one of Harry’s hands into his lap and held it there. “So tell me about it,” he said firmly.
Harry moaned when he said this. “Oh God, Draco, why? I just. I just can’t,” he choked out.
Draco steeled his nerves to remain calm. “I think you had better. Since you’ve started, now is as good a time as any. I don’t think you can run from this forever, Harry. Don’t you want to start your life again?”
“I don’t,” Harry answered quickly.
“I hope you change your mind about that,” Draco said.
“How do I know…” Harry started, his voice wavering. “How do I know that I won’t simply fall apart completely?” The hand Draco held began to tremble slightly and Harry squeezed his eyes shut. Draco tightened his grip as Harry continued. “I mean, if I tell you everything. Once the pieces start coming out, how do I know they won’t all just come crashing down around me?” Harry’s pitch was rising. “I think they will, Draco. I think I will fall apart.” Harry’s voice was bordering on hysterical now.
Draco squeezed Harry’s hand, then kissed it firmly. “I won’t let you fall apart.” He said. He looked at Harry now. “I promise.”
“You promise?” Harry asked, his voice calmer and his eyes open.
“I promise,” Draco said with resolve. He tried again, “So tell me about Grimmauld Place, the house that was everything that was wrong with your life.”
Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I kept trying to renovate it, you know?”
Draco nodded.
Harry continued. “It wouldn’t work. I swear, I think that house hated me. I couldn’t get rid of all the awful dark magic. It was like hell living there.” Harry stopped for a moment and scratched at the back of his neck. “It was while I was in Bavaria that I got the idea to burn it down. In Wurzburg, everything was different. No one knew me there. It was… amazing. I hardly ever even used magic there. I wanted to bring that feeling back with me, that ‘starting over’ feeling.” He moved his hand from scratching his neck to scratching his other arm now. “It was a bartender actually, who gave me the idea. I didn’t even know her name. I was so drunk on one of my last nights there. I told her I didn’t know how I could start over in England again while I still had that awful house to deal with. And she said, ‘why don’t you just burn it down and build a new house in its place?’”
Harry began rubbing at his face with his free hand now. “And so that’s what I did.” Harry’s voice was tortured as he continued, staring straight ahead as he spoke. “I didn’t think about anything. I just came home and went ahead with this crazy plan. I burned the whole thing down. I wanted to imagine that I was burning down my whole past along with it, everything that happened with Voldemort and the War, everything after that- hurting Ginny, and washing out of Auror training, just… everything.”
Harry grabbed Draco’s hand with the hand that had been in his lap and began to squeeze it tightly. Draco looked up and realized that tears were running down Harry’s cheeks. He had his eyes closed so tightly it should have hurt him, but he kept going, “It didn’t work, though,” he finally forced out with a huge rush of air. He took another deep breath before he spoke again, “It didn’t work, Draco, it’s all still here, everything. I can still feel it, it’s inside me,” he gasped.
He finally turned to look at Draco, tears streaming down his face. “I destroyed Sirius’s house. My Godfather’s house. He left it to me and I burned it down. It’s like I killed him all over again.”
Suddenly Harry was sobbing and Draco gently pulled him close so that he could lay his head in his lap. He began to run his fingers through Harry’s hair and as he listened to Harry cry, he realized that he was crying too.
He couldn’t believe it when Harry wiped at his face and began talking again. “There is nothing left of Godric’s Hollow, my parents old house. Grimmauld Place was like, the one connection I had to someone who cared enough about me to leave something to me. I still dream about that night sometimes, about watching it burn, and then I wake up and I realise that it wasn’t just a dream. I really did that. And now I have nothing left. Just all of the terrible memories of my life that didn’t burn away in the fire!”
Harry blew out a huge gust of air and was silent. His eyes were closed but the tears still came, his body shook slightly every now and then.
Draco just held him and rubbed his arms and back gently.
They must have sat like that for an hour. The room got dark while they were sitting there.
Draco spelled the lamps on a little after eight. “You didn’t kill Sirius,” he finally said.
“I know,” Harry said quietly.
“You know that in your head, right?” Draco said, “But in your heart?”
“It still feels like I did,” Harry finished for him. “Even after all these years. You’d think I would be over this by now,” he said angrily.
Draco pondered this for a moment. “My mother says that whenever something really bad happens to someone, they never get over it completely right away. She says it’s how she feels when she remembers some of the terrible things she saw the Death Eaters do in our house. She says it’s like this; you get over it the best you can right away, but then a few years later, it will come back, and it’s different somehow because you are older and you have a different perspective and so you have to get over it again. And the whole thing repeats itself, on different levels. When someone goes through something truly horrific, they spend their lives recovering from it, over and over again. But that doesn’t mean that they fall apart about it each time. I mean, you have to keep living your life.”
Harry turned over now, so that he was on his back, his head still in Draco’s lap. He looked up at Draco with his bloodshot, sorrowful eyes, “But what about the house?”
“The house is gone, Harry.”
“It’s gone,” Harry repeated in a whisper. He closed his eyes.
“Harry, you hated that house,” Draco reminded him.
“I know I did,” he said resignedly. “I really did.”
Suddenly, Draco felt his stomach growl. Gently, he pushed Harry up into a sitting position. “Come on,” he said.
“What?” Harry whined.
“It’s time to eat,” Draco replied.
“Nothing’s prepared, it’s late” Harry argued, still whining.
“Kreacher will make us something. You shouldn’t go to sleep without eating,” Draco reasoned.
He pulled Harry up off the bed and held him as they walked downstairs.
He had Kreacher make them simple club sandwiches to eat.
After dinner, they sat on the couch and had tea while watching some crime show on the telly. Harry was asleep, with his head in Draco’s lap again before the show was even half over.
After the show, Draco gently levitated Harry up to bed, spelled of his clothes except for his under pants and tucked him in. Then he crawled into the bed next to him and held him for the rest of the night.
*-*-*
Draco made Harry an omelet for breakfast the next morning before he left for work. While he and Harry were sitting at the kitchen table sipping their coffee after they had finished eating, he thought of something.
“Did you really wash out of Auror training, Harry?” he asked.
Harry choked on his coffee a bit but nodded and smiled. “I did,” he said. “I was terrible, it wasn’t where I wanted to be. I kind of knew it by the end of eighth year at Hogwarts. The only reason I even did the training was because I didn’t have a clue what else I wanted to do with my life.” Harry set his coffee cup down gently. “That’s actually part of the reason I went to Bavaria, to figure out what I wanted to do with my life.”
“Oh?” Draco asked, “And what is it that you want to do with your life?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” Harry smiled as he said this and began rising from the table. “And now, I must run.” He planted a quick kiss on Draco’s cheek. “See you tonight.”
*-*-*
Draco decided to take Harry out that night. They went to the oldest and best Chinese restaurant in Diagon Alley. The air was warm as they walked back to Harry’s house after eating. They hadn’t even brought their cloaks with them. As they walked side by side in silence, Draco felt that the change in Harry’s demeanour was palpable that night, despite the lack of conversation. Draco was hard pressed to explain it, but he never felt for a second that Harry’s mind wasn’t present, right there with him, actually experiencing the evening instead of floating through it. Also, he found that he was beginning to get used to Harry’s persistent quietness. Not talking really wasn’t the worst thing in the world.
Suddenly, Draco stopped and grabbed Harry’s arm to stop him as well. He had just thought of something. “Come back to my place tonight,” he said, realizing that for some reason, he had never thought to invite Harry to his flat.
Harry look a bit surprised, but said, “Okay.”
Somehow, it felt very urgently like Draco needed to show Harry where he lived. “Let’s Apparate, I can Side-Along-Apparate you.”
Harry shrugged, “Okay, if that’s what you want to do.”
“I do,” he said and quickly wrapped his arms around Harry and Apparated them both to his flat.
They arrived in the foyer, just inside the front door.
“Let me take you on a tour,” Draco said as soon as they’d arrived.
“Okay,” Harry said, but was cut off as Draco took his hand and began to drag him toward the kitchen. In the kitchen, Draco showed Harry all of his favourite cook books, most of them French and told him the stories of when he had gotten them and what his favourite recipes were in them.
Next was the living room. As they walked around the room, Harry stopped for a moment and looked at all of the family photos that Draco had framed on the mantlepiece.
“Harry,” he began, “You kept pictures of your family, didn’t you? I mean, you do have photos of your parents and friends, right?” He asked, suddenly a bit concerned.
“Yes, I do,” Harry answered, turning to look at him. “I keep them in photo albums. I think they are in a drawer in one of the guest bedrooms.”
Draco was relieved to know that Harry hadn’t burned his photographs and proceeded to tell him a little bit about some of the pictures on the mantlepiece.
Next, they went into his study, which was his favourite room in the whole flat. His desk was an antique and was probably the single most important purchase he had made in France. It was exactly like the one that had been in his father’s study growing up. Unfortunately, his father’s desk had been repossessed by the Ministry after it was found that the locked drawers were all full of dark artifacts. His desk of course, housed nothing like that, just papers and files mostly. He showed Harry all of this and Harry just listened and smiled and nodded while he talked.
Finally, they ended up in Draco’s bedroom. Draco had just finished telling Harry about the day he purchased the six hundred thread count sheets when Harry said, “I know what you are trying to do, Draco.”
“Oh?” Draco asked, raising an eyebrow. “I just thought I would tell you some things about myself that you didn’t know. I mean, I have spent all of this time trying to get you to tell me about yourself and have barely told you anything about me. That’s hardly fair.”
Harry sat down on the bed and looked up at Draco with his eyebrows raised. He patted the bed beside him and Draco sat down. “And that’s why you’ve told me about all of your home’s lovely furnishings?” he asked.
Draco shrugged. “Well, what better way is there to learn about someone than to see their home?”
“What better way, indeed.” Harry was looking at Draco now in a feral way that should have made him uncomfortable, but instead made him very, very excited. Harry moved closer to him now, his face was mere inches away when he spoke again. “I can think of a better way to get to know someone,” he said, his breath was steamy on Draco’s face, it smelled of dumplings. “And I can think of a few fantastic uses for these absurdly expensive sheets of yours.” And with that, Harry was kissing him. He tasted of dumplings too.
In two seconds, Draco had his hands under Harry’s shirt, pulling it off over his head and then he was on his back and Harry was looming over him. Harry pushed Draco’s shirt up to his armpits and began to suck on his nipples. While still continuing to suck, Harry managed to push Draco’s shirt up his arms and off over his head before throwing it to the floor.
Draco was panting as Harry began to bite at one of his nipples. He had his hands in Harry’s hair and tugged on it to bring Harry’s head back up to his own. He claimed Harry’s lips again and then planted his hands at Harry’s sides to roll them over so that Harry was laying flat on his back. He began to suckle gently at Harry’s neck, making beautiful, little, blue hickeys all up and down his neck, claiming this man as his own.
Suddenly, Draco pushed himself up and looked down into Harry’s eyes.
“Harry,” he said. “I’ve never fucked anyone on these sheets before.”
Harry threw his head back and laughed riotously at that, exposing the long line of pale skin, now marked with Draco’s love bites. Draco touched them tenderly. When Harry finally stopped laughing, he brought his head back down and looked at Draco, his eyes were serious now.
“Draco,” he said “I’ve changed my mind.”
“What about?” Draco asked, absently, as he ran his fingers through several strands of Harry’s dark hair.
“I do want to start my life again,” Harry said, his eyes still very serious.
Draco smiled at this. “Harry,” he said. “You already have.”
Harry smiled back at Draco then. And Draco was blind.