FIC: You Set Fire To The Rain [Harry/Draco - R] - Part 1
Author: Anonymous
Title: You Set Fire to the Rain
Characters/Pairings: Harry/Draco
Rating: R or M
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the other works that I refer to in this story. Please don’t sue me.
Warnings: violence, slight gore, strong language, character death, and sexual situations. Also, this story is EWE and mostly DH compliant, but I have tweaked a few things to go along with my plot.
Word Count: ~60K
Prompt: 88 - Harry/Draco. The negative reaction about their relationship from the media and the public is just too much for them to bear and they break up reluctantly. (by tabitha666)
Summary: Harry decides to spend the summer with Andromeda and Teddy in France. When Malfoy shows up, things get complicated. ”Slowly, you were becoming my world, my reason for existence; and yet, I wasn’t even a blotch, not even an insignificant speck in the universe of Draco Malfoy.”
Notes:First, I would like to thank the lovely mods for being so patient with me while I struggled to finish this monster of a fic and for running this lovely fest. I would also like to thank my two wonderful betas: ashiiblack and erised_dreams. Without you, I never could have written this fic. Thank you for being patient, supportive, offering amazing advice, and for dealing with all of my mistakes. All mistakes that remain are my own.
To the dear promptertabitha666, I’m sure this fic is far from what you had in mind, but your lovely prompt inspired it. I hope you enjoy it.
And to the lovely readers, this fic will contain character death. I’m telling you this up front, so no one kills me later. However, this isn’t a story about death. This is a story about Harry’s journey of self-discovery. It’s about the epic love story that exists between Harry and Draco and how even in a short time, they managed to change each other’s lives. Yes, you will need tissues for this fic, but you will also smile, laugh, and I’m pretty sure that you will be content with the ending. If you join me on this journey through Harry’s whirlwind relationship with Draco, I promise that you won’t regret it. I hope you enjoy this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it.
You Set Fire to the Rain
I set fire to the rain just to watch you burn. I set fire to the rain and threw us in the flames. ~HJP
: :One: :
They say that life is full of great adventures-that the adventures are what make life worth living. Well, by the time I left Hogwarts, I had more than my fill of adventures. I was ready to start living a quiet life of solitude.
What I didn’t know, what I didn’t count on-was that my greatest adventure was still to come-that my greatest adventure would be with you.
If I had known what would happen-if I had known that you would become my world, perhaps I would have done things differently.
Or perhaps I would have done things exactly the same.
All I know is that it’s over now, and I’ll never be the same. We’ll never be the same.
I’m not sure where to start; it’s such a long and complicated story, much like everything in my life. Perhaps I should just take the easy route, for once, and start at the beginning.
: : :
2 Years Earlier...
After the war, I didn’t know anything about your life. I testified at your hearing, testified for you and your mum, so you wouldn’t wind up in prison. You didn’t deserve Azkaban; you were a pawn of the war-helpless, broken, and dejected-much like I was. Definitely not a criminal. I told myself that the only reason I was helping you was because of your mum; she had saved my life after all, so I owed her. But now, I realise that it went so much deeper than that. Perhaps even back then-I felt an unnatural, unwavering attraction to you-much like a moth to a flame.
After your trial, I completely lost track of you. Once I knew you weren’t going to Azkaban, I didn’t much care what you did with your life. I didn’t much care what anyone did with their lives; I just wanted to find a way to have one of my own and most importantly to be left alone.
Of course, being Harry Potter and defeating the most heinous dark wizard of all time-twice, didn’t keep me off the radar. I was constantly being followed, hassled for interviews, pictures, guest appearances-you name it and they asked for it. Hadn’t I already done enough for the wizarding world? Hadn’t I already sacrificed my childhood and adolescence to a madman trying to rid the world of diversity by infecting the wizarding population with hate and intolerance? Apparently, saving the world twice didn’t grant you a free pass or any influence amongst the press. At least it didn’t for me.
The press.
Oh, how I love the press. Adore them really. The Daily Prophet and I are on such familiar terms that the head writers and I get together every Friday night for a pint at the Leaky…yeah right. I have threatened, or at least Hermione has threatened, The Prophet with a multitude of lawsuits ranging from invasion of privacy to defamation and slander. She has threatened to sue them for every Knut they are worth, but unfortunately, that hasn’t really deterred them. It’s as if the more I hide from them, the more interested they are in reporting news on me. And it’s not just the Prophet anymore. Other papers, primarily gossips rags, are all interested in the daily happenings of Harry Potter’s oh-so-fabulous life. They follow me everywhere, take pictures, and report on me doing anything and everything, including, eating lunch with my mouth open or not washing my hands after using the loo one afternoon. It was getting absolutely ridiculous, and I just couldn’t take it anymore.
It’s one thing to write about my sordid break up with Ginny Weasley as the press had called it; all of a sudden, I was London’s most eligible bachelor, and as loathe I am to admit this, it was ‘big’ news. Still, it was quite another to report about my personal hygiene skills and choice in restaurants or magazine subscriptions. Why do people actually care about those things? Seriously.
At first, I tried to take it all in good faith, laugh it off that the papers now had a ‘Where’s Harry?’ column or ‘Spot Potter’ section. It was funny at first-kind of a continuation of Potterwatch-but not anymore; the war had ended three years ago. Three bloody years and the press still wouldn’t leave me alone. No matter, how much I hid. The more I hid, the more they pried and became desperate to capture pictures of the elusive Potter.
I was growing deeply depressed and even my work was suffering. Kingsley told me that he didn’t feel that my heart was in the Auror training programme anymore, so that I should take some time off-the entire summer if I wanted, to recuperate and find myself, decide if I really wanted to be an Auror or not. At first I was hesitant at accepting his proposal, what would I really do with so much time off? And of course, I wanted to be an Auror. I’m Harry Potter, defender of innocents, vanquisher of evil…what else would anyone expect me to be? What else was I actually good at?
But then the press took things much too far.
Someone had actually managed to capture pictures of me sleeping…in my bedroom…and worst of all...without pyjamas. I was only wearing my bright red, golden snitch boxers. At first, I was completely mortified; it was like a nightmare that the entire wizarding world now knew what I looked like in my pants. But after speaking with Hermione, I quickly got over my mortification, and then I was actually petrified, terrified for my safety. How could someone invade my privacy like that and watch me while I sleep? It was beyond disturbing, so much so that I decided to take Kingsley up on his offer. I needed a break, a long break far away from all the nonsense and madness that surrounded wizarding London.
Luckily, I knew just the place. It had been far too long since I had seen my darling godson anyway, so I decided to spend the summer with Andromeda and Teddy at their summerhouse in the south of France. Little did I know, that I would find a lot more than I bargained for that summer.
::Two::
Spending the summer with Andromeda and my godson turned out to be exactly what I needed. Their old-world and roomy villa was lovely, and the petite hamlet they resided in was quiet and secluded. The small population of their village, Roquebrun, was mostly Muggle and didn’t give an arse about Harry Potter. I was in absolute heaven. I could walk the streets and the town without being mobbed by a frantic group of strangers or hassled for autographs and pictures anytime I went out to the market.
It was utterly fantastic, so much so that I was considering extending my stay.
Perhaps even indefinitely.
Besides, I also had the best of company between Andromeda and Teddy. Andromeda was one of the sweetest women I had ever met. If not for her hauntingly similar appearance to Bellatrix Lestrange, she would be top contender for my favourite person ever award. Yet, even though she looked like a haughty Black, she didn’t have one hair on her head that resembled the cruel nature of the estranged and twisted Black sisters. I don’t understand how such a sinister woman, (the late Mrs Black), could have given birth to such a kindhearted soul. But I suppose there’s always an exception to every rule-look at Sirius. Although, Sirius wasn’t even close to as kindhearted as his cousin was. In fact, Sirius was actually a lot more Black than he let on. As much as I loved him, Sirius had an inner darkness in him that always threatened to come undone. But none of that matters anymore, since Sirius is gone and all.
Luckily for Andromeda, it seemed like Teddy was taking after his mother and Grandmother because he was getting to be such a wonderful little boy. It appeared that the Black family poison had surpassed his generation. Thank Merlin. He was only 4-years-old and already he was so smart, kind, and loving. I could not have been prouder of my godson and everything was going perfectly-until you came along.
: : :
I’ll always remember the day I first saw you again. I hadn’t thought about you in years, not since your trial. Occasionally, I had scanned over horrid, scandalous articles about you and your family in the paper: how they had sentenced your father to the kiss and how your mother was in and out of St Mungo’s with shot nerves and anxiety attacks. Of course, I ignored them because Merlin knows they were probably false since I knew better than anyone that papers will write anything to sell copies. Unfortunately, this time the papers weren’t wrong. Narcissa Malfoy was much more ill than the papers had let on-so ill in fact-that not more than three months after Lucius had been given the kiss, Narcissa completely lost her mind.
And that was when you showed up.
I was in the other room when I first heard Andromeda cry out. Apparently, she trusted you enough to allow you access to the wards; something I would not have allowed had I known. So-one afternoon, you just showed up in her living room. I heard Andromeda scream and came running out, wand drawn. I saw you standing there with a blank, dejected look upon your face, your white blond hair ruffling out in all directions. I had never seen your face so pale, your eyes so unguarded. Yet, out of habit I came after you with my wand, threatening you with it right at the throat, but you didn’t even flinch. It was as if your mind was completely elsewhere, lost in another place, another time. It seemed completely meaningless to you that I was threatening your life.
“It’s okay, Harry,” Andromeda said. “Please lower your wand. It’s only my nephew, Draco.”
I still didn’t feel convinced; somehow, I felt as if it were some sort of trick. Over the years, you had played enough pranks on me that I knew better than to ever let my guard down around you. Still, I reluctantly obliged; it was Andromeda’s house after all, and you seemed harmless enough.
I took two steps back and let Andromeda step between us, but I never let go of my wand. It was always gripped firmly in my hand, ready to go at a moment’s notice. At least my Auror training was good for something.
“Draco, what’s the matter?” Andromeda asked, her voice high-pitched and laced with concern.
She put her arms around you and pulled you tightly against her body. For some unexplainable reason, I was burning with jealousy.
“Love,” she continued softly, “You can tell me anything. We’re family. What’s wrong?”
She started rubbing circles on your back, but you still didn’t respond. You just stared into thin air blankly, as if Andromeda and I weren’t in the room. In fact, I don’t think you noticed my presence at all-even after the whole wand and life-threatening incident.
But I noticed you. God, I’ve always noticed you.
I couldn’t take my eyes of your listless grey eyes; they were so clear, an almost tungsten shade of silver, speckled with flecks of blue. They were hauntingly beautiful, and now that I look back, I think that’s when you started sucking me in, slowly making me fall for you. I was always a sucker for your beautiful grey eyes.
“Draco, please. You’re scaring me,” Andromeda pleaded. “Did something happen to you? To your mother?”
Her voice hitched as she mentioned her sister. Even though they had spent so many years estranged, it was obvious to anyone that knew her that Andromeda’s baby sister was the light of her life, besides her grandson of course.
You bowed your head slowly and averted your eyes from Andromeda. It was as if the mention of your mother finally brought you back from whatever daze you were trapped in. You gasped for air and then finally spoke.
“Mother,” you cried, “Oh gods, Mother.” It was all you were able to say before breaking into tears.
It wasn’t the first time I had seen you cry. As much as I like to wipe out that particular memory, the day of the fateful bathroom incident-well, that day I had seen you cry too. Luckily, this time it didn’t end with me slashing your chest open and almost killing you. In some ways, it was almost worse.
The first time I had seen you cry, you seemed tormented, angry, helpless even. But this time, it was different; your cries were so frantic, so deep and tormenting. It was painful just to listen to them, to watch you convulse in pain. You were sobbing and breathless, tears making anything that came out of your mouth unintelligible. I almost couldn’t comprehend the pain you were in, but it was obvious to me that something terrible had happened…something so terrible that your life would never be the same. None of our lives would be the same.
They say that seeing your enemy break down, falling apart in agony and damnation, is the greatest joy of all-that revenge is best served cold. At that moment, it could not have felt further from the truth. I don’t know if it was because we were never enemies at all or if it was just something about you in particular, but at that moment, something in me changed forever. The only thing I wanted was to stop your pain, and for once, I wasn’t responsible.
I dropped my wand and ran over to the two of you. I didn’t really know anything about comforting people-mostly because I had never been comforted as a child-but I tried my best and threw my arms around you gently but with enough pressure so you would feel my presence. As Andromeda continued rubbing circles on your back, I started petting your hair, gently at first-and then once I realised you hadn’t pushed me away, I started running my fingers through your silky strands as well, stroking the soft strands as lightly and soothingly as possible. I never imagined that your hair would be so soft, so fine. It was even softer than Ginny’s hair. But now wasn’t the time to think about such trivialities. You were in pain and you needed me; that was all that I could grasp.
“Shh,” I soothed. “It’s okay. You’re safe here.” I stopped stroking your hair for a second and locked eyes with you, praying that I would get some sort of response, any type of recognition rather than just a blank stare. “Please-just tell us what happened. We want to help.”
Apparently, that had been the wrong thing to say because you started to laugh, dark and manically.
“You can’t help,” you said. Your grey eyes darkening and meeting mine once again, the silver orbs were gone and replaced by stormy blackness. “No one can.” You paused for a second and this time looked at Andromeda. “Mother’s dead,” you said, your voice completely even and devoid of any emotion.
Two words, technically three-and that was all it took to change everything.
“No,” Andromeda choked out. “My Cissa? It can’t be true.”
“Mother’s dead,” you repeated, as if Andromeda and I hadn’t heard you the first time.
Andromeda was hyperventilating now; I had to do something to get her to relax.
“How?” I asked. “How did she die?”
You turned your head slowly, your long hair whipping around gradually, and looked me directly in the eyes. Your eyes were slightly narrowed, much more like the infamous Malfoy glare you usually greeted me with. “She killed herself, Potter,” you spat. “What’s it to you?”
“Oh my god,” Andromeda cried. “Oh my god.”
I instantly looked down at the floor; I couldn’t meet your harsh gaze anymore. I hadn’t meant to hurt you and put that frigid distance between us again, but most of all, I was embarrassed. Embarrassed that I had been so cold, demanding in asking about your mother’s death. I had just wanted a way to get Andromeda to relax, to understand what had happened. In typical Potter fashion, I just made things worse. Way to go, idiot.
“I’m sorry,” I croaked out, my voice was harsh, but soft-barely a whisper. I couldn’t take it back, so all I could do was apologise.
“I’m sure you are, Potter,” you sneered. “You’re probably happy. One less Death Eater for you and your Auror buddies to kill, right?” I could feel my face turning red. Fuck.
“No, Malfoy… I-” I was at a loss for words; there had to be a way to fix this, but of course I couldn’t think of anything. Luckily, Andromeda interrupted-she came to my rescue.
“Draco,” she said, her tone soft but so painfully desperate. “You don’t mean that, love,” she continued, her tone slow, too slow really, almost as if she were fighting desperately to hold back her tears. “Think about what you’re saying, son. This is Harry Potter. The same man who testified for you and your mother at your trial.” She attempted to smile at Draco, but it only came across as a rather lame smirk.
“Whatever,” you responded, your tone still harsh and your forehead furrowed in deep thought.
By this point, I was halfway across the room from you, trying to put as much distance between us as possible. I didn’t want to be within arm’s length, just in case you decided to attack me. I did everything I could to avoid your bitter glare. At the time, I didn’t understand why it was so painful to have you look at me with such disgust.
I tried to distract myself and instead focused on your appearance. You didn’t look yourself at all; you were wearing Muggle clothes, a plain tee shirt and a tight pair of jeans. It was quite strange seeing the great Draco Malfoy, Slytherin poster boy and pureblood supremacist, wearing something so common. Still, something was off. The front of your shirt was stained with dark, crimson blotches. Why hadn’t I noticed that before? Checking for blood is one of the first things we learn in Auror training; for some reason, your mere presence made me forget everything I had ever learnt.
“Is that blood?” I asked, hoping that you wouldn’t hex me for continuing to open up my big fat mouth.
“Yes,” you responded in an even tone. “There was so much blood. Mother-” your voice started to crack again; I watched you fight back more tears. I couldn’t help but admire your remarkable self-composure.
Although I had forgotten about Andromeda, at this point in the conversation, she finally seemed to regain some coherence. Her long, porcelain face was blotchy and tears continued to trickle down her crystalline blue eyes, but at least she had recuperated enough to speak.
“How can this be, Draco?” she demanded. “Why would she do this?”
You completely ignored me and walked over to your aunt. This time, it was you who put your arms around her and whispered in her ear, “I don’t know, Auntie. I don’t know.”
The two of you seemed to stay in that position for a while, both holding each other and trading small comforts. I never thought I would see the day when you would hold another person willingly and tried to offer solace.
I felt like an outsider and a nuisance, so I left the two of you alone. I don’t know how long you stayed in that position; it could have been hours or just a few minutes, but what I do know, is that when I came back later, you were gone. Andromeda and I were alone again. For some reason, I felt a pang in my chest, a deep emptiness that I just couldn’t shrug off; it was positively maddening.
::Three::
After you left, the days went by slowly-too slowly. Andromeda was like a different person, unrecognisable really. Gone was the strong, fiercely independent woman, who always had a smile on her face no matter what the circumstance. She had survived being disowned by her family, the passing of her husband, as well as the murder of her only daughter. But losing her younger sister was the final straw, the final catastrophe that finally pushed her off the cliff. She was a broken woman now, barely a shell of her former fortitude, and it broke my heart. I just didn’t know how to help her.
I had accompanied her to Narcissa’s memorial service. It was a small intimate affair, which took place in the Malfoy gardens and was only attended by a selective group of loved ones. You were there, of course, along with Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, and Snape’s portrait. They were probably there for moral support, and everyone needs someone I suppose, but did you really have to bring that slimy git’s portrait? Snape and I had made our peace, but that still didn’t mean I wanted to spend an afternoon in his presence.
A tall, elegant woman with olive coloured skin and silky ebony hair was also there; she was drop-dead gorgeous and surprisingly familiar. Andromeda told me that she was Zabini’s mother and one of Narcissa’s closest friends. A slightly pug-nosed woman that I assumed to be Pansy’s mother was also in attendance as well as all the members of the Malfoy Manor staff. But that was it. Andromeda and I were the only other two people in attendance. I felt out of place, since I barely knew Narcissa, but the woman had saved my life. I owed it to her memory to be there, and besides, I was there for moral support for Andromeda and surprisingly enough for you too. Not that I ever got the chance to tell you. I wanted to say something to you that day, offer you some words of consolation, but you were always surrounded by your friends. I didn’t think it was my place. I felt as if I were intruding by just being there.
As they buried Narcissa in the Malfoy family mausoleum, your face was stoic, closed off, and withdrawn. Your grey eyes were dark, distant; you were completely unruffled, poised-as if it were just another day in the tedious life of Draco Malfoy rather than your mother’s funeral. But it was all an act; it was as obvious as the light of day that behind those cold, grey eyes was a world of pain and unresolved grief. It wasn’t my place to help you though; I was there for Andromeda and you had your friends-except why weren’t they trying to help you?
I sighed heavily and bowed my head. I was trying my best to be strong for Andromeda, to be strong for you. Pansy was wailing besides you, gasping for air, and choking on her wretched sobs. I watched you stroke her arm gently and pat her back soothingly. I was completely nonplussed.
This was your mother’s funeral, so why were you comforting her? In fact, why were Pansy and most of the other guests crying hysterically while you were just standing there, shoulders back, spine straight, and tight-lipped? It just wasn’t right. Didn’t they see that they were stealing your moment, tarnishing Narcissa’s memory? Perhaps that was the way you wanted it. You’re like me in that way, always better at comforting others rather than being comforted-always the victor and never the victim. Or at least we pretend to be.
I had always wanted to ask you about that day, about what you were feeling-how you acted so strong? Somehow, I never got around to it; it was much too depressing and heavy of a topic to bring into light conversation. I wish I had though. You probably wouldn’t have minded, and now I’ll never get the chance.
: : :
After Narcissa’s funeral, Andromeda didn’t leave the house for days. She couldn’t even be bothered to go to the market for milk for Teddy’s porridge. In that moment, I knew that things were dire. I needed to do something to help Andromeda, but sadly, the only thing I could do was offer to make tea and indulge her in small talk.
So that’s what we did. For days, we sat around and drank tea; we lived on macarons and cucumber sandwiches and just talked. We talked about everything, mostly inane things like our favourite subjects back at Hogwarts or our favourite Muggle authors. It didn’t matter really. I just wanted Andromeda to stay with me-anything to keep her from spiralling deeper into her depression. After a few weeks of way too many sweets and black tea, she seemed to be getting better, responding to me and smiling occasionally, even if it lacked the warmth it had once possessed. At least it was an improvement.
Yes, things were getting back to normal. I couldn’t have been more thrilled-well, as long as I didn’t mention Narcissa or you, but it didn’t matter because I was making a difference. I was helping Andromeda and saving my family. Or so I thought.
About a month after Narcissa’s funeral, I had a terrible nightmare. It’s normal for me to toss and turn at night, but that night something just didn’t feel right. I don’t even remember what the dream had been about, but what I do remember is that I had a nagging feeling that I needed to go downstairs. I followed my instincts and started heading down when I heard a soft noise coming from the parlour; it sounded like whispering and immediately I was alarmed.
For once, I could put my Auror training to use, so I stealthily crept down the stairs and hid under the stairwell. My head was aching horribly and I was in no mood to deal with intruders. It had been a long time since I had dealt with criminals, so whoever had been stupid enough to mess with my family was going to get their bollocks cursed off.
My wand was drawn and I was ready to hex whatever arsehole had broken into Andromeda’s house into oblivion, but what I found was so much worse. If only it had been an intruder that was waiting for me downstairs. An intruder, even a Death Eater, was simple to deal with; it was something I could fight, a threat that I could destroy. But the scene I found downstairs was like something out of my nightmares-there was nothing I could do to help, no villain to exterminate. I had to bite my tongue sharply to keep myself from crying out and going to Andromeda. I knew that I had stumbled upon a private moment, and she would be devastated or at least highly embarrassed if she had found me spying on her. But I couldn’t make myself turn around. I was frozen on the spot.
Yes, all I could do was watch, and it broke my heart.
Andromeda was sitting in an old rocking chair that usually stood in the corner of the sitting room completely unused. She had her hair tied back in a loose plait, and it made her appear at least ten years younger; she looked like a school girl again and oh-so fragile. She had a pale blue jumper tossed across her bony shoulders; she had gotten much too thin in these last few weeks even if she had only been eating macarons and tea. The blue jumper was so familiar; I remembered it well. It was the last present that Narcissa had gotten her sister for her birthday and Andromeda had adored it. She wore the soft cashmere jumper often and always made sure to tell anyone that would listen that her thoughtful sister had gotten it specially made for her from imported grass-fed goats. I remember asking her why it mattered that the goats were grass-fed, but Andromeda just ruffled my hair and told me that I wouldn’t understand because I was a bloke. That seemed like such a silly excuse because you’re a bloke too, and I’m sure you would understand why imported cashmere was better than regular cashmere-whatever that means. I probably should have asked you because now I’ll never know the difference.
I tried my best to keep silent as I watched her from the stairwell, but seeing her beautiful features so etched in pain and knowing that I was helpless was one of the most difficult things I have ever done, which is saying a lot considering some of the atrocities I have witnessed. I watched her slowly swaying back and forth in her old rocking chair; she was clutching an old doll that although I had never seen before, I would bet at one time had belonged to Narcissa. Her face was completely blank, her blue eyes listless and empty. It reminded me so much of another pair of blue-grey eyes that I had previously seen.
“Cissa,” Andromeda cried softly, barely parting her lips. She looked so fragile and broken that I could feel my chest tightening up. I wanted to wrap her in my arms so badly, but there was nothing to be done.
“Cissa,” she said again, this time a little louder.
Silent tears were streaming down her pale face and she didn’t seem to notice. She clutched the doll closer to her chest and started to mumble.
“Blood curses,” she said, as she stroked the doll’s pale blonde hair that was so strikingly similar to that of her previous owner. “Blood curses,” she repeated. “Blood curses aren’t real.”
She laughed softly then and seemed to regain a far off expression in her eyes.
“Please, not Teddy. Not Teddy. Take me instead.” She continued rocking back in forth in her chair and stroking the doll’s hair. “At least Draco’s strong,” she whispered. “I don’t have to worry about him.”
At this point, Andromeda broke into destructive sobs, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I had imposed enough, and this kind, albeit broken woman deserved her privacy. I let the poor woman mourn in peace and returned to my room.
I didn’t sleep at all that night.
: : :
After that night, I tried my best to keep to my room at night even if I couldn’t sleep. I had never heard of blood curses before, and I wanted to know more about them. Still, it wasn’t my place to ask Andromeda about them, especially because I could never admit to spying on her. I’ve always been shite at research, so I did what I always do when I have questions and asked Hermione about it. Hermione laughed when I asked her about blood curses; she insisted that they didn’t exist and were an old pureblood legend. She said that Andromeda was probably still in shock over her sister’s death, so she was coming up with reasons for her sister’s suicide-even if they were completely irrational and ill-founded like blood curses. At the time it made me feel better, but I still worried about Andromeda’s mental state.
“How can I help?” I asked Hermione hoping that as always she would have the answer to my problems.
“Oh, Harry,” she said. “You can’t fix this. She’s lost so much-her husband, her daughter, and now her sister-just be there for her and help with Teddy. You have to give her time. Only time can help and heal her broken heart.”
Of course, I hadn’t liked Hermione’s advice, but as always, she was right. All I could do was be there for Andromeda and pray that she would heal quickly.
“Yes, Hermione, I’ll try my best.”
I had promised Hermione that I would no longer spy on Andromeda and that I would give her some space. I was hoping that I wasn’t lying through my teeth. I would do anything to help Andromeda and Teddy; in a short time, the middle-aged woman and her grandson had become my family, and I was fiercely protective of them. If only there was something I could do. For the first time since the end of the war, I called upon Narcissa’s memory and cursed her fervently. How dare she hurt my Andie so badly? And you, you were probably affected by this too, even if you didn’t show it.
: : :
Although her method of healing was a bit peculiar, apparently it had worked because a couple months after Narcissa’s death, Andromeda seemed to be getting better. Colour had returned to her pale cheeks, she starting eating more than just sweets, and even insisted that we take Teddy out to the park. I could not have been happier to see Andromeda make such progress until that dreaded day so many months ago that changed things so severely.
For many reasons, I have never been a big supporter of the press. Reading the paper just wasn’t a part of my morning routine. Andromeda, however, was a different story. Perhaps it was because of her age or perhaps it was because she lived so far out from civilization, but Andromeda was obsessed with newspapers. She had subscriptions to all the major wizarding papers, both French and British, but most importantly, she read them religiously. It had made me quite embarrassed knowing that she had read all the false and horrid lies that had been published about me for so many years. Still, what the papers wrote that day was even more dreaded than anything they had every said about me.
One newspaper headline read: ‘Malfoy Heir Responsible for Mother’s Death’. Another read: ‘Another Black Meets Tragic Demise, Coincidence or Not?’. I couldn’t help but feel sick to my stomach. These worthless scum reporters were actually blaming you for Narcissa’s death. They claimed that you orchestrated the entire plot and then covered it up, so you could be the sole heir to both the Malfoy and Black Estates. It was the most ridiculous and nauseating thing I had ever heard. How could anyone ever write such rubbish? No one would believe such tragic lies, right?
I don’t know what made me want to read the papers that day, but some deeper, wiser power within myself had urged me to read the news. When I saw the atrocities in front of me, I wanted to dispose of all the papers- burn them and destroy the evidence-before Andromeda would see them and feel their pain. Yet, I never had the chance because Andromeda got out of bed early that day and snatched one of the papers from my hand. Her face went much paler than usual, an almost greenish colour, and she looked as if she were about to faint. I put a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to appear supportive, but there wasn’t much I could do.
“Oh my god,” she said, her tone so similar to that first day she had heard of her sister’s demise.
“I-I”
The poor woman was in shock; she could barely speak as she in took in the ghastly lies that were being spread in these sorry excuses for newspapers.
“I’ll get rid of them,” I told her. “I’ll cancel all the subscriptions at once. I always said they only printed rubbish.”
Unfortunately, Andromeda ignored my comments and refused to relinquish her grip on the paper.
“Oh my god,” she repeated; her blue eyes had darkened and for once, I could feel a trace of her normally weak magic crackling in the air. “I need to speak with Draco,” she said. “Right away.”
She quickly disappeared into the other room and I gulped loudly. Somehow, I had forgotten about you. It hadn’t even crossed my mind that you would read these horrid articles and be heartbroken. All of a sudden, my chest tightened even further.
“Andromeda,” I said, while making my way into the sitting room. “Is there anything I can do?”
“What?” she asked, her dressing gown covered in soot.
“How can I help?” I asked again.
“Oh,” she replied frowning. “Well, I can’t reach, Draco. His Floo is blocked off and I’m worried.”
“Um-well-I’m sure he’s fine. You know, erm-Draco,” I said, your first name sounding so foreign and strange on my tongue, but to my genuine horror not entirely unpleasant. “I’m sure he’s just being dramatic or busy.”
“Still, I-”
“I’m sure he’s fine,” I interrupted. “Why don’t you send him an owl? I’m sure he’ll respond to that.” I put my hand on Andromeda’s bony shoulder; she felt cold again and I was worried for her wellbeing.
“He’ll probably just laugh it off. He’s tough,” I said, trying to convince myself as much as Andromeda.
“I suppose you’re right, Harry,” she replied, although she looked far from convinced. “Let’s go have some breakfast.”
: : :
More than a week had passed since the dreaded newspaper incident, and Andromeda was frantic. She had written you several letters and hadn’t received a response to any of them.
“Harry,” she said, the grief obvious in her soft voice, “I’m so worried about him. He hasn’t responded to any of my owls and the last two have been returned unopened.”
I tried my best to offer my most reassuring smile and hugged her tightly.
“I’m sure he’s fine,” I said, even though deep down I knew it was a lie. “Perhaps he’s just on a trip. Maybe he needed to get away.”
“I hope,” Andromeda said, as she continued to prepare Teddy’s breakfast in the kitchen.
“It’s just not like Draco to not respond to my letters.” She sighed and turned to lock eyes with me. “He always writes back-even if it’s just a brief note telling me he’s busy.”
“Well-”
“I don’t know what to think.”
I smiled at the older woman, trying my best to keep the concern off my face.
“If it’ll make you feel better, I can ask around the Auror Department and see if they’ve heard anything.”
Andromeda sighed deeply and quickly dismissed the idea.
“Absolutely not,” she said, a sudden fierceness blazing behind her eyes. “I don’t want the Aurors anywhere near my nephew. They have terrorised him enough. Perhaps I should go and check on him.”
I looked at the frail older woman in front of me and felt a lump form in my throat. The poor woman had barely gained any strength at all in these past weeks, if she travelled all the way to England, who knows what would become of her health.
“Andie,” I said, hoping that my voice was kind but reasonable. “I can’t let you do that. You’re not well,” I said, trying to put it nicely that she wasn’t allowed to go.
“Harry-” she complained, “I’m not a child.”
“Of course not,” I snapped, “but you’re not well, and I’m sure your nephew is fine.”
“But-”
I sighed loudly and ran a hand through my messy hair. Oh, the things I would do for this woman. She was completely loony.
“If you want,” I said slowly, hoping desperately that I wouldn’t regret these words. “I can go check on him.”
Andromeda broke into a brilliant, dazzling smile. Her blue eyes lit up and her pale skin seemed to flush at the cheeks.
“You would do that for me?” she asked, completely astonished.
“Of course, I would,” I said evenly. “I would do anything for you and Teddy.”
She threw her arms around my neck and planted a stream of kisses on my head.
“You and Teddy are my only real family,” I said in between suffocating kisses. “If it’ll give you peace of mind, I’ll do it. Anything at all.”
“Thank you, Harry. Thank you so much,” she squealed. I couldn’t help but blush at her appreciation.
“It’s nothing.”
The last thing I wanted to do was go to Malfoy Manor and be hexed by you, but as I told Andromeda, I would do anything she asked of me, always.
::Four::
If I had known that to boost Andromeda’s spirits all I had to do was agree to go visit you, her most wretched nephew, then I would have agreed to do it weeks ago. That morning Andromeda was a different person; it was as if a huge burden had been lifted from her shoulders, and in rare moments, like when she was baking her famous lemon scones, I could see a glimpse of the former serenity and wisdom she used to radiate constantly.
In the last few weeks, I had put my not-so-highly-developed culinary skills into practise, and unfortunately, they had never progressed much from my former days of burning bacon in Little Whinging. Even Teddy was starting to protest that he didn’t want to eat mushy ‘pasghetti’ again, so I was grateful to have Andromeda reclaim her role in the kitchen that morning. She fixed the three of us a delicious lunch and even prepared a couple of meat pies for dinner. Her main hit though were her famous lemon scones.
It had been so long since she had made them last, and although I usually favoured chocolate éclairs, treacle tart, and other afters, Andie’s lemon scones were among my favourites as well. I found it strange that Andie insisted on eating lemon scones as an after rather than with tea, but it was a Black family tradition. Narcissa had started it when she was a little girl and of course, Andie and her darling nephew, liked to keep the tradition alive. In fact, lemon scones were her nephew’s favourite she told me, which was why she was baking them. She was baking a special batch for me to bring you on my visit. You lucky sod, Andie never baked me scones. I figured you wouldn’t even appreciate the kind gesture.
It’s ironic how much Andromeda adores you now; it’s as if she knew that now that Narcissa was gone you were going to need another mother, and she was more than happy to fill those shoes. Not too long ago, I remember her bad-mouthing Lucius Malfoy repeatedly and claiming that even though she didn’t know her nephew, she was positive that the insolent child was exactly like his father. If anyone were to say a negative word against you today, even if it’s me, she’ll have my head on a platter.
I couldn’t help but feel slightly jealous that Andromeda was fussing over you so heavily since she had practically ignored me for the last few weeks, but I knew that my jealousy was ill-founded. You had just lost your mother, for Merlin’s sake, and were living alone in that dreary manor; as much as I didn’t like you at the time, I still felt that you deserved someone’s compassion, just not mine.
After a satisfying lunch, I made my way to Malfoy Manor. I hadn’t been to the manor since the war. The one time I had seen your mother after her trial, she had insisted that we meet in Diagon Alley. I suppose she understood that I wouldn’t want to visit her at Malfoy Manor no matter how honourable her intentions were. I wasn’t sure what to expect when I reached the manor again. Somehow, the manor was even more worn and desolate than I remembered it. The formidable front gate had been left slightly ajar-the golden ‘M’ that had once stood for power and prestige was falling slightly, barely hanging on by its hinges. Now, it almost appeared to be an ‘E’ rather than the once intimidating ‘M’. There were broad hedges, which enclosed the meandering path that led to what had once been a charming, ancestral Manor house, but was now just a bleak shadow of its former glory. I remembered the hedges to have been neatly clipped and surrounded by vibrant flowerbeds and even a few white peacocks. Now, they were completely overgrown and bedraggled; there wasn’t a peacock in sight.
I was more than a little shocked that you had allowed the manor to fall into this derelict state, but that was the least of my worries. As I approached the manor door, I could tell that something was wrong. It was a dark and dreary afternoon. It had rained all morning, and the sky was still entirely clouded over; yet, the manor was completely dark. There wasn’t a light on in any areas of the vast house, not even in what I knew to be the house-elves’ quarters. The manor appeared abandoned and discarded, and I desperately hoped that you had gone on some luxurious vacation in the Mediterranean because the alternative was unimaginable. As much as I hated your stupid, pointy face, I couldn’t help but feel a lead weight growing and gnawing at my stomach. Merlin, I really regretted eating that second helping of pudding.
Why did I care what happened to you anyway? You were a foul git-you always have been.
As I knocked on the foreboding door, I held my breath. Everything would be fine, I assured myself. It had to be...for Andromeda’s sake. And as loathe as I was to admit it, for my sake too. For some reason I just couldn’t explain, I cared what happened to you too. I wanted, no I needed, you to be all right.
: : :
The next few hours, turned out to be some of the longest of my life.
I had knocked incessantly on the door of your manor, but when no one answered, I tried a quick unlocking spell and the door opened easily. It was as if the house knew that its master was in trouble; all the wards that I knew had once been in place granted me access. I hesitantly searched the manor for any signs of you or at least one of the many house-elves, but the long, garish corridors were dust-ridden and empty. It appeared that the elves had taken a holiday or at least gone on strike because it was evident that they had been neglecting their duties. I tried not to panic since I hadn’t seen evidence of danger or foul play, but I still couldn’t shake that niggling feeling in my gut.
I continued wandering around the empty manor when I came across the dining room-the long, cherry oak dining table had been broken in half and the dozen Ashford leatherback chairs that usually surrounded it were overturned and strewn across the room. The antique china cabinets had been smashed open, and it appeared as all the expensive porcelain had been looted and the everyday tableware had been shattered. My heart started pounding furiously, and I cried out your name frantically.
I ran down the endless corridors utterly lost and helpless. Something terrible had happened; I was just so sure of it, but I couldn’t find you anywhere. After what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, I came across a lone house-elf cowering in the corner of the kitchen. It was banging its large head repeatedly on the nearest cupboard.
“Blood...Blood...” it squeaked. “So much Blood.”
I immediately felt a deep pang in my chest, but I tried to remain calm.
“What are you talking about? Tell me,” I demanded, my voice harsh and authoritative.
The creature ignored me. “Blood...blood,” it continued to squeak.
I had the greatest urge to shake the blithering creature into compliancy, but I wouldn’t gain anything by terrifying the house-elf. No, I needed to get it to trust me.
I kneeled down on the floor next to the elf and attempted to speak as kindly as possible. “What’s your name?”
“Blood...blood...so much blood,” the elf continued whimpering, now rocking itself back and forth and completely ignoring me.
“I’m Harry Potter,” I tried again. “And I need your help.”
The elf stopped rocking and met my gaze; it opened its large mouth up and starting wailing, a dreadful shrill howl.
“Stop that.” I was starting to get impatient now. “I need your help.”
The creature continued sobbing and ignored my request once again.
“Your master sent me,” I said, desperately trying to make eye contact with the barmy creature.
Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say because the elf started sobbing even more hysterically and then latched onto my leg.
“Master, Master.”
“I’m not your master. Where’s your master?”
“Bad men,” it said, meeting my eyes again.
“What are you-”
The wretched creature tightened its grip on my leg and screeched even louder; streams of black tears were falling down its long, ugly face. Who knew that house-elves cried black tears?
“Bad men hurt Master,” the small elf choked out. “Bad, bad men.”
“Who? Where is your master?” I demanded. I was yelling now and trying to remove the elf from my appendages, but it was no use. It was as if the heinous creature was glued onto me. Desperation was choking me; an overwhelming urge to see you right that instant caused the air to tangibly tense with my uncontrollable magic. The house-elf was clearly mental because you had to be okay-had to-because Andromeda would not be able to handle losing you too. Not after everything else that had already been taken from her. And somehow, I knew that I couldn’t either.
“Stop crying,” I threatened. “If you don’t stop crying...”
My harsh words seemed to have no effect on the elf; if anything, they were only making her scream louder. I was beyond panicked at this point and needed to do something and fast.
“Please,” I said, using my softest voice. “I’m a friend of Dobby’s. I’m sure you remember Dobby.”
The small elf stopped crying and nodded vigorously.
“That’s good. I really liked Dobby,” I continued. I hated thinking about that mad elf; it still broke my heart knowing that he sacrificed everything for me and I couldn’t even give him a proper burial, but now was not the time for regrets. I was desperate and needed this other elf to help me.
“I’m a friend of your master’s too. Where is he? Did something happen to him?”
“Master...Master,” the small elf sobbed, her big eyes filling with tears again.
“No, don’t cry. I need you to be brave. Please, for Dobby. Dobby was so brave.”
The elf didn’t stop crying, but at least she had released her death grip around my leg.
“Thanks. Now, where’s your master?”
“Bad elves. All left. Only Binky stay...bad, bad elves.”
I took a deep breath and tried to remain patient.
“It’s okay, Binky,” I said kindly. “You can tell me. I’m going to help your master. What happened?”
The elf brought its knobby knees to its chest and started rocking back and forth again. “Blood...blood...bad, bad men.”
“Binky, please.” This was getting ridiculous now. If you truly had been attacked, then listening to an incoherent and blithering house-elf was not going to help, and every second spent coddling Binky was a second wasted with your life on the line. I was about to give up and seek you out myself when the elf got up and wrapped itself around my legs again. This time, however, it Apparated us with a quick snap to a large parlour room.
I had never been inside that room before and under normal circumstances, it would have been quite a lovely room with its stunning baby grand piano in the centre of the room and its elegant wall of windows. On the opposite end of the room, there was an antique vanity that was covered in cobwebs and a small fireplace that was adorned with a large, portrait of the late Narcissa Malfoy. Luckily, it wasn’t an enchanted portrait because at that moment, I didn’t think I could face the late Mrs Malfoy, particularly because of what I encountered below. There you were lying in the corner of the room, huddled on the floor next to the unused fireplace.
I let out a sharp gasp, as I saw you lying there, all bruised and battered on a top of a blood stained sheet. You were broken and motionless, and I was shocked by the sudden consuming need to seek out whoever had harmed you and make them pay dearly-perhaps even with their lives.
You were lying face down and all I could see were patches of pale skin peeking out from under tattered, bloody clothing and your long, white blond hair that was stained with blotches of crimson.
I stroked your silvery locks and was surprised to find that they were still baby soft even while covered in blood. I gently turned you over in fear of further aggravating your already prevalent injuries. When I turned you over, I gasped; I knew that you would have injuries, but I wasn’t ready to face your usually pale face, that I had memorised from watching you so many years in the Great Hall, looking so incredibly broken. Rather than being its usual almost transparent white, your skin was grey; your high cheekbones were protruding and bruised. Your pale lips were covered in dried blood and almost blue in colour. You needed help immediately.
“Malfoy,” I said, while shaking you carefully. “Malfoy, can you hear me?”
You didn’t respond and I felt my heart clench, threatening to rip itself from my chest if I didn’t do something and quick. The tumult of feelings that washed over me was almost too much to handle: grief, loss, fury, confusion, and most importantly fear. I was afraid that I was too late, that I wouldn’t be able to save you. I needed you to wake up, begged you to open your eyes, but you just laid there limp in my arms as I softly stroked your fair hair that looked almost golden in the daylight. I held my breath and cast a quick Vitality Charm, desperately praying that you were still alive. Thank Merlin that I had learnt that handy spell back in the war; otherwise, I would have lost it completely.
I let out a sigh of relief when my wand glowed a faint red, meaning that you still had a pulse, but it was dangerously weak. It didn’t matter though, as long as it wasn’t green, everything would be fine. It had to be. There was still time to save you. I just needed help and fast.
“Binky,” I said, summoning the elf who was now hiding underneath the piano. “What happened? How long has Malfoy been like this?”
The small elf crept further behind the piano, but answered me softly.
“Master sick...long, long time.”
“Binky?”
“Binky find Master on floor yesterday.”
“Yesterday!” I roared stepping away from your motionless body and faced the elf, the sheer rage on my face causing the elf to tremble visibly. I felt my blood start to boil. If you had been unconscious since perhaps as long as yesterday, then why hadn’t the elf informed anyone? Why hadn’t she helped you?
“Binky find sheet for Master,” the elf stammered out, now starting to shake violently underneath the piano.
“Well, why didn’t you get help? Why didn’t you tell someone?”
“Binky can’t-can’t...” Before the elf could finish her sentence, she started sobbing uncontrollably and banging her head against the underside of the piano.
“Binky sorry, bad Binky.”
“Never mind,” I said, trying to appease the frantic creature, “Just help me now.” I motioned over to your limp body. “We need to get him to St Mungo’s and immediately. I can’t carry him alone, and I’m afraid to cast any spells on him in his condition.”
“No,” Binky squeaked so quietly that I almost couldn’t make out the word. “No.” She was rocking back and forth again, and although I knew that Hermione would probably kill me, I was about to fling the stupid elf out the window.
“What do you mean no?” I could feel my magic crackling beneath my fingers. If I didn’t relax, I was going to lose control of my magic at any second. “This is your master we’re talking about. You have to help him. It’s your duty.” I crouched down next to the piano and stared the wretched elf straight in its big, bulging eyes.
“If you don’t help him,” I said darkly, “he’s going to die. And it’ll be on you,elf.”
“No...no...no!” Binky started wailing again, but slowly crawled out from underneath the piano. She wiped the black tears from her eyes and even though she was still hiccupping, she tried to explain. “Binky want to help. Binky love Master. Binky can’t leave Malfoy Manor.” She sniffled again and her voice started cracking. “Binky...wanna...die!”
“Fuck,” I shouted. “You’re tied to the manor. Is that what you’re telling me? You physically can’t leave?”
The small elf bobbed its head up and down.
“Fuck. No, no, no.” My head was spinning; I knew that I needed to do something, and I was running out of time. Every minute that I was standing here arguing with this ridiculous elf was a precious minute wasted that you might never get back. There was no way that I could Apparate you to St Mungo's alone-chances were that you wouldn’t survive the journey. Besides, I didn’t know how to transport a body in this condition. But I couldn’t just leave you there. I needed to do something-if only I had listened to Hermione and taken that Healer training class at Hogwarts.
I cast another Vitality Charm on you and noticed that your vitals had dropped even lower; if something wasn’t done immediately, there was a good chance you would die.
I took a deep breath and turned to the shivering elf again.
“Binky,” I said evenly. “I need you to listen to me and listen to me carefully. I am the sole heir of Sirius Black; he was your Mistress’s cousin who was also a Black. Do you understand?”
The small elf nodded again.
“Good. That means that I’m technically a Black too, so I can give you orders if necessary.”
The small elf looked hesitant and opened her large mouth to protest, but then appeared to change her mind and nodded once.
“So,” I said in my most commanding voice. “You will help me move Master Malfoy out of here. I know that you cannot leave the Malfoy Estate, but are you bound only to the Manor? What about the other Malfoy properties?”
“I-I don’t know,” Binky croaked.
“Do you know where your Mistress’s house is in the south of France? The one she gave to her sister?”
Binky nodded again, this time more furiously.
“It’s pretty there.”
“Right. Well, I order you to Apparate all three of us there right away. Do not waste anymore time or make me repeat myself.”
“Binky can’t leave Malfoy Manor,” she squeaked again; she was starting to sound like a broken record now, and it was getting on my nerves.
In an effort to compose myself, I bit down on my bottom lip furiously.
“Binky,” I said, my voice much calmer than before. “Please, just try. For your master.”
The small elf looked doubtful but nodded anyway.
I walked over to you and cradled you in my arms as the elf grabbed onto me.
“If you die on me, Malfoy you bastard, I’ll never forgive you and I’ll summon your spirit, so I can kill you again. Do you hear me?” I shouted at your broken body, which was much too light for that of a grown man.
Well here goes nothing.
Part 2...
Title: You Set Fire to the Rain
Characters/Pairings: Harry/Draco
Rating: R or M
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the other works that I refer to in this story. Please don’t sue me.
Warnings: violence, slight gore, strong language, character death, and sexual situations. Also, this story is EWE and mostly DH compliant, but I have tweaked a few things to go along with my plot.
Word Count: ~60K
Prompt: 88 - Harry/Draco. The negative reaction about their relationship from the media and the public is just too much for them to bear and they break up reluctantly. (by tabitha666)
Summary: Harry decides to spend the summer with Andromeda and Teddy in France. When Malfoy shows up, things get complicated. ”Slowly, you were becoming my world, my reason for existence; and yet, I wasn’t even a blotch, not even an insignificant speck in the universe of Draco Malfoy.”
Notes:First, I would like to thank the lovely mods for being so patient with me while I struggled to finish this monster of a fic and for running this lovely fest. I would also like to thank my two wonderful betas: ashiiblack and erised_dreams. Without you, I never could have written this fic. Thank you for being patient, supportive, offering amazing advice, and for dealing with all of my mistakes. All mistakes that remain are my own.
To the dear promptertabitha666, I’m sure this fic is far from what you had in mind, but your lovely prompt inspired it. I hope you enjoy it.
And to the lovely readers, this fic will contain character death. I’m telling you this up front, so no one kills me later. However, this isn’t a story about death. This is a story about Harry’s journey of self-discovery. It’s about the epic love story that exists between Harry and Draco and how even in a short time, they managed to change each other’s lives. Yes, you will need tissues for this fic, but you will also smile, laugh, and I’m pretty sure that you will be content with the ending. If you join me on this journey through Harry’s whirlwind relationship with Draco, I promise that you won’t regret it. I hope you enjoy this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it.
You Set Fire to the Rain
I set fire to the rain just to watch you burn. I set fire to the rain and threw us in the flames. ~HJP
: :One: :
They say that life is full of great adventures-that the adventures are what make life worth living. Well, by the time I left Hogwarts, I had more than my fill of adventures. I was ready to start living a quiet life of solitude.
What I didn’t know, what I didn’t count on-was that my greatest adventure was still to come-that my greatest adventure would be with you.
If I had known what would happen-if I had known that you would become my world, perhaps I would have done things differently.
Or perhaps I would have done things exactly the same.
All I know is that it’s over now, and I’ll never be the same. We’ll never be the same.
I’m not sure where to start; it’s such a long and complicated story, much like everything in my life. Perhaps I should just take the easy route, for once, and start at the beginning.
: : :
2 Years Earlier...
After the war, I didn’t know anything about your life. I testified at your hearing, testified for you and your mum, so you wouldn’t wind up in prison. You didn’t deserve Azkaban; you were a pawn of the war-helpless, broken, and dejected-much like I was. Definitely not a criminal. I told myself that the only reason I was helping you was because of your mum; she had saved my life after all, so I owed her. But now, I realise that it went so much deeper than that. Perhaps even back then-I felt an unnatural, unwavering attraction to you-much like a moth to a flame.
After your trial, I completely lost track of you. Once I knew you weren’t going to Azkaban, I didn’t much care what you did with your life. I didn’t much care what anyone did with their lives; I just wanted to find a way to have one of my own and most importantly to be left alone.
Of course, being Harry Potter and defeating the most heinous dark wizard of all time-twice, didn’t keep me off the radar. I was constantly being followed, hassled for interviews, pictures, guest appearances-you name it and they asked for it. Hadn’t I already done enough for the wizarding world? Hadn’t I already sacrificed my childhood and adolescence to a madman trying to rid the world of diversity by infecting the wizarding population with hate and intolerance? Apparently, saving the world twice didn’t grant you a free pass or any influence amongst the press. At least it didn’t for me.
The press.
Oh, how I love the press. Adore them really. The Daily Prophet and I are on such familiar terms that the head writers and I get together every Friday night for a pint at the Leaky…yeah right. I have threatened, or at least Hermione has threatened, The Prophet with a multitude of lawsuits ranging from invasion of privacy to defamation and slander. She has threatened to sue them for every Knut they are worth, but unfortunately, that hasn’t really deterred them. It’s as if the more I hide from them, the more interested they are in reporting news on me. And it’s not just the Prophet anymore. Other papers, primarily gossips rags, are all interested in the daily happenings of Harry Potter’s oh-so-fabulous life. They follow me everywhere, take pictures, and report on me doing anything and everything, including, eating lunch with my mouth open or not washing my hands after using the loo one afternoon. It was getting absolutely ridiculous, and I just couldn’t take it anymore.
It’s one thing to write about my sordid break up with Ginny Weasley as the press had called it; all of a sudden, I was London’s most eligible bachelor, and as loathe I am to admit this, it was ‘big’ news. Still, it was quite another to report about my personal hygiene skills and choice in restaurants or magazine subscriptions. Why do people actually care about those things? Seriously.
At first, I tried to take it all in good faith, laugh it off that the papers now had a ‘Where’s Harry?’ column or ‘Spot Potter’ section. It was funny at first-kind of a continuation of Potterwatch-but not anymore; the war had ended three years ago. Three bloody years and the press still wouldn’t leave me alone. No matter, how much I hid. The more I hid, the more they pried and became desperate to capture pictures of the elusive Potter.
I was growing deeply depressed and even my work was suffering. Kingsley told me that he didn’t feel that my heart was in the Auror training programme anymore, so that I should take some time off-the entire summer if I wanted, to recuperate and find myself, decide if I really wanted to be an Auror or not. At first I was hesitant at accepting his proposal, what would I really do with so much time off? And of course, I wanted to be an Auror. I’m Harry Potter, defender of innocents, vanquisher of evil…what else would anyone expect me to be? What else was I actually good at?
But then the press took things much too far.
Someone had actually managed to capture pictures of me sleeping…in my bedroom…and worst of all...without pyjamas. I was only wearing my bright red, golden snitch boxers. At first, I was completely mortified; it was like a nightmare that the entire wizarding world now knew what I looked like in my pants. But after speaking with Hermione, I quickly got over my mortification, and then I was actually petrified, terrified for my safety. How could someone invade my privacy like that and watch me while I sleep? It was beyond disturbing, so much so that I decided to take Kingsley up on his offer. I needed a break, a long break far away from all the nonsense and madness that surrounded wizarding London.
Luckily, I knew just the place. It had been far too long since I had seen my darling godson anyway, so I decided to spend the summer with Andromeda and Teddy at their summerhouse in the south of France. Little did I know, that I would find a lot more than I bargained for that summer.
::Two::
Spending the summer with Andromeda and my godson turned out to be exactly what I needed. Their old-world and roomy villa was lovely, and the petite hamlet they resided in was quiet and secluded. The small population of their village, Roquebrun, was mostly Muggle and didn’t give an arse about Harry Potter. I was in absolute heaven. I could walk the streets and the town without being mobbed by a frantic group of strangers or hassled for autographs and pictures anytime I went out to the market.
It was utterly fantastic, so much so that I was considering extending my stay.
Perhaps even indefinitely.
Besides, I also had the best of company between Andromeda and Teddy. Andromeda was one of the sweetest women I had ever met. If not for her hauntingly similar appearance to Bellatrix Lestrange, she would be top contender for my favourite person ever award. Yet, even though she looked like a haughty Black, she didn’t have one hair on her head that resembled the cruel nature of the estranged and twisted Black sisters. I don’t understand how such a sinister woman, (the late Mrs Black), could have given birth to such a kindhearted soul. But I suppose there’s always an exception to every rule-look at Sirius. Although, Sirius wasn’t even close to as kindhearted as his cousin was. In fact, Sirius was actually a lot more Black than he let on. As much as I loved him, Sirius had an inner darkness in him that always threatened to come undone. But none of that matters anymore, since Sirius is gone and all.
Luckily for Andromeda, it seemed like Teddy was taking after his mother and Grandmother because he was getting to be such a wonderful little boy. It appeared that the Black family poison had surpassed his generation. Thank Merlin. He was only 4-years-old and already he was so smart, kind, and loving. I could not have been prouder of my godson and everything was going perfectly-until you came along.
: : :
I’ll always remember the day I first saw you again. I hadn’t thought about you in years, not since your trial. Occasionally, I had scanned over horrid, scandalous articles about you and your family in the paper: how they had sentenced your father to the kiss and how your mother was in and out of St Mungo’s with shot nerves and anxiety attacks. Of course, I ignored them because Merlin knows they were probably false since I knew better than anyone that papers will write anything to sell copies. Unfortunately, this time the papers weren’t wrong. Narcissa Malfoy was much more ill than the papers had let on-so ill in fact-that not more than three months after Lucius had been given the kiss, Narcissa completely lost her mind.
And that was when you showed up.
I was in the other room when I first heard Andromeda cry out. Apparently, she trusted you enough to allow you access to the wards; something I would not have allowed had I known. So-one afternoon, you just showed up in her living room. I heard Andromeda scream and came running out, wand drawn. I saw you standing there with a blank, dejected look upon your face, your white blond hair ruffling out in all directions. I had never seen your face so pale, your eyes so unguarded. Yet, out of habit I came after you with my wand, threatening you with it right at the throat, but you didn’t even flinch. It was as if your mind was completely elsewhere, lost in another place, another time. It seemed completely meaningless to you that I was threatening your life.
“It’s okay, Harry,” Andromeda said. “Please lower your wand. It’s only my nephew, Draco.”
I still didn’t feel convinced; somehow, I felt as if it were some sort of trick. Over the years, you had played enough pranks on me that I knew better than to ever let my guard down around you. Still, I reluctantly obliged; it was Andromeda’s house after all, and you seemed harmless enough.
I took two steps back and let Andromeda step between us, but I never let go of my wand. It was always gripped firmly in my hand, ready to go at a moment’s notice. At least my Auror training was good for something.
“Draco, what’s the matter?” Andromeda asked, her voice high-pitched and laced with concern.
She put her arms around you and pulled you tightly against her body. For some unexplainable reason, I was burning with jealousy.
“Love,” she continued softly, “You can tell me anything. We’re family. What’s wrong?”
She started rubbing circles on your back, but you still didn’t respond. You just stared into thin air blankly, as if Andromeda and I weren’t in the room. In fact, I don’t think you noticed my presence at all-even after the whole wand and life-threatening incident.
But I noticed you. God, I’ve always noticed you.
I couldn’t take my eyes of your listless grey eyes; they were so clear, an almost tungsten shade of silver, speckled with flecks of blue. They were hauntingly beautiful, and now that I look back, I think that’s when you started sucking me in, slowly making me fall for you. I was always a sucker for your beautiful grey eyes.
“Draco, please. You’re scaring me,” Andromeda pleaded. “Did something happen to you? To your mother?”
Her voice hitched as she mentioned her sister. Even though they had spent so many years estranged, it was obvious to anyone that knew her that Andromeda’s baby sister was the light of her life, besides her grandson of course.
You bowed your head slowly and averted your eyes from Andromeda. It was as if the mention of your mother finally brought you back from whatever daze you were trapped in. You gasped for air and then finally spoke.
“Mother,” you cried, “Oh gods, Mother.” It was all you were able to say before breaking into tears.
It wasn’t the first time I had seen you cry. As much as I like to wipe out that particular memory, the day of the fateful bathroom incident-well, that day I had seen you cry too. Luckily, this time it didn’t end with me slashing your chest open and almost killing you. In some ways, it was almost worse.
The first time I had seen you cry, you seemed tormented, angry, helpless even. But this time, it was different; your cries were so frantic, so deep and tormenting. It was painful just to listen to them, to watch you convulse in pain. You were sobbing and breathless, tears making anything that came out of your mouth unintelligible. I almost couldn’t comprehend the pain you were in, but it was obvious to me that something terrible had happened…something so terrible that your life would never be the same. None of our lives would be the same.
They say that seeing your enemy break down, falling apart in agony and damnation, is the greatest joy of all-that revenge is best served cold. At that moment, it could not have felt further from the truth. I don’t know if it was because we were never enemies at all or if it was just something about you in particular, but at that moment, something in me changed forever. The only thing I wanted was to stop your pain, and for once, I wasn’t responsible.
I dropped my wand and ran over to the two of you. I didn’t really know anything about comforting people-mostly because I had never been comforted as a child-but I tried my best and threw my arms around you gently but with enough pressure so you would feel my presence. As Andromeda continued rubbing circles on your back, I started petting your hair, gently at first-and then once I realised you hadn’t pushed me away, I started running my fingers through your silky strands as well, stroking the soft strands as lightly and soothingly as possible. I never imagined that your hair would be so soft, so fine. It was even softer than Ginny’s hair. But now wasn’t the time to think about such trivialities. You were in pain and you needed me; that was all that I could grasp.
“Shh,” I soothed. “It’s okay. You’re safe here.” I stopped stroking your hair for a second and locked eyes with you, praying that I would get some sort of response, any type of recognition rather than just a blank stare. “Please-just tell us what happened. We want to help.”
Apparently, that had been the wrong thing to say because you started to laugh, dark and manically.
“You can’t help,” you said. Your grey eyes darkening and meeting mine once again, the silver orbs were gone and replaced by stormy blackness. “No one can.” You paused for a second and this time looked at Andromeda. “Mother’s dead,” you said, your voice completely even and devoid of any emotion.
Two words, technically three-and that was all it took to change everything.
“No,” Andromeda choked out. “My Cissa? It can’t be true.”
“Mother’s dead,” you repeated, as if Andromeda and I hadn’t heard you the first time.
Andromeda was hyperventilating now; I had to do something to get her to relax.
“How?” I asked. “How did she die?”
You turned your head slowly, your long hair whipping around gradually, and looked me directly in the eyes. Your eyes were slightly narrowed, much more like the infamous Malfoy glare you usually greeted me with. “She killed herself, Potter,” you spat. “What’s it to you?”
“Oh my god,” Andromeda cried. “Oh my god.”
I instantly looked down at the floor; I couldn’t meet your harsh gaze anymore. I hadn’t meant to hurt you and put that frigid distance between us again, but most of all, I was embarrassed. Embarrassed that I had been so cold, demanding in asking about your mother’s death. I had just wanted a way to get Andromeda to relax, to understand what had happened. In typical Potter fashion, I just made things worse. Way to go, idiot.
“I’m sorry,” I croaked out, my voice was harsh, but soft-barely a whisper. I couldn’t take it back, so all I could do was apologise.
“I’m sure you are, Potter,” you sneered. “You’re probably happy. One less Death Eater for you and your Auror buddies to kill, right?” I could feel my face turning red. Fuck.
“No, Malfoy… I-” I was at a loss for words; there had to be a way to fix this, but of course I couldn’t think of anything. Luckily, Andromeda interrupted-she came to my rescue.
“Draco,” she said, her tone soft but so painfully desperate. “You don’t mean that, love,” she continued, her tone slow, too slow really, almost as if she were fighting desperately to hold back her tears. “Think about what you’re saying, son. This is Harry Potter. The same man who testified for you and your mother at your trial.” She attempted to smile at Draco, but it only came across as a rather lame smirk.
“Whatever,” you responded, your tone still harsh and your forehead furrowed in deep thought.
By this point, I was halfway across the room from you, trying to put as much distance between us as possible. I didn’t want to be within arm’s length, just in case you decided to attack me. I did everything I could to avoid your bitter glare. At the time, I didn’t understand why it was so painful to have you look at me with such disgust.
I tried to distract myself and instead focused on your appearance. You didn’t look yourself at all; you were wearing Muggle clothes, a plain tee shirt and a tight pair of jeans. It was quite strange seeing the great Draco Malfoy, Slytherin poster boy and pureblood supremacist, wearing something so common. Still, something was off. The front of your shirt was stained with dark, crimson blotches. Why hadn’t I noticed that before? Checking for blood is one of the first things we learn in Auror training; for some reason, your mere presence made me forget everything I had ever learnt.
“Is that blood?” I asked, hoping that you wouldn’t hex me for continuing to open up my big fat mouth.
“Yes,” you responded in an even tone. “There was so much blood. Mother-” your voice started to crack again; I watched you fight back more tears. I couldn’t help but admire your remarkable self-composure.
Although I had forgotten about Andromeda, at this point in the conversation, she finally seemed to regain some coherence. Her long, porcelain face was blotchy and tears continued to trickle down her crystalline blue eyes, but at least she had recuperated enough to speak.
“How can this be, Draco?” she demanded. “Why would she do this?”
You completely ignored me and walked over to your aunt. This time, it was you who put your arms around her and whispered in her ear, “I don’t know, Auntie. I don’t know.”
The two of you seemed to stay in that position for a while, both holding each other and trading small comforts. I never thought I would see the day when you would hold another person willingly and tried to offer solace.
I felt like an outsider and a nuisance, so I left the two of you alone. I don’t know how long you stayed in that position; it could have been hours or just a few minutes, but what I do know, is that when I came back later, you were gone. Andromeda and I were alone again. For some reason, I felt a pang in my chest, a deep emptiness that I just couldn’t shrug off; it was positively maddening.
::Three::
After you left, the days went by slowly-too slowly. Andromeda was like a different person, unrecognisable really. Gone was the strong, fiercely independent woman, who always had a smile on her face no matter what the circumstance. She had survived being disowned by her family, the passing of her husband, as well as the murder of her only daughter. But losing her younger sister was the final straw, the final catastrophe that finally pushed her off the cliff. She was a broken woman now, barely a shell of her former fortitude, and it broke my heart. I just didn’t know how to help her.
I had accompanied her to Narcissa’s memorial service. It was a small intimate affair, which took place in the Malfoy gardens and was only attended by a selective group of loved ones. You were there, of course, along with Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, and Snape’s portrait. They were probably there for moral support, and everyone needs someone I suppose, but did you really have to bring that slimy git’s portrait? Snape and I had made our peace, but that still didn’t mean I wanted to spend an afternoon in his presence.
A tall, elegant woman with olive coloured skin and silky ebony hair was also there; she was drop-dead gorgeous and surprisingly familiar. Andromeda told me that she was Zabini’s mother and one of Narcissa’s closest friends. A slightly pug-nosed woman that I assumed to be Pansy’s mother was also in attendance as well as all the members of the Malfoy Manor staff. But that was it. Andromeda and I were the only other two people in attendance. I felt out of place, since I barely knew Narcissa, but the woman had saved my life. I owed it to her memory to be there, and besides, I was there for moral support for Andromeda and surprisingly enough for you too. Not that I ever got the chance to tell you. I wanted to say something to you that day, offer you some words of consolation, but you were always surrounded by your friends. I didn’t think it was my place. I felt as if I were intruding by just being there.
As they buried Narcissa in the Malfoy family mausoleum, your face was stoic, closed off, and withdrawn. Your grey eyes were dark, distant; you were completely unruffled, poised-as if it were just another day in the tedious life of Draco Malfoy rather than your mother’s funeral. But it was all an act; it was as obvious as the light of day that behind those cold, grey eyes was a world of pain and unresolved grief. It wasn’t my place to help you though; I was there for Andromeda and you had your friends-except why weren’t they trying to help you?
I sighed heavily and bowed my head. I was trying my best to be strong for Andromeda, to be strong for you. Pansy was wailing besides you, gasping for air, and choking on her wretched sobs. I watched you stroke her arm gently and pat her back soothingly. I was completely nonplussed.
This was your mother’s funeral, so why were you comforting her? In fact, why were Pansy and most of the other guests crying hysterically while you were just standing there, shoulders back, spine straight, and tight-lipped? It just wasn’t right. Didn’t they see that they were stealing your moment, tarnishing Narcissa’s memory? Perhaps that was the way you wanted it. You’re like me in that way, always better at comforting others rather than being comforted-always the victor and never the victim. Or at least we pretend to be.
I had always wanted to ask you about that day, about what you were feeling-how you acted so strong? Somehow, I never got around to it; it was much too depressing and heavy of a topic to bring into light conversation. I wish I had though. You probably wouldn’t have minded, and now I’ll never get the chance.
: : :
After Narcissa’s funeral, Andromeda didn’t leave the house for days. She couldn’t even be bothered to go to the market for milk for Teddy’s porridge. In that moment, I knew that things were dire. I needed to do something to help Andromeda, but sadly, the only thing I could do was offer to make tea and indulge her in small talk.
So that’s what we did. For days, we sat around and drank tea; we lived on macarons and cucumber sandwiches and just talked. We talked about everything, mostly inane things like our favourite subjects back at Hogwarts or our favourite Muggle authors. It didn’t matter really. I just wanted Andromeda to stay with me-anything to keep her from spiralling deeper into her depression. After a few weeks of way too many sweets and black tea, she seemed to be getting better, responding to me and smiling occasionally, even if it lacked the warmth it had once possessed. At least it was an improvement.
Yes, things were getting back to normal. I couldn’t have been more thrilled-well, as long as I didn’t mention Narcissa or you, but it didn’t matter because I was making a difference. I was helping Andromeda and saving my family. Or so I thought.
About a month after Narcissa’s funeral, I had a terrible nightmare. It’s normal for me to toss and turn at night, but that night something just didn’t feel right. I don’t even remember what the dream had been about, but what I do remember is that I had a nagging feeling that I needed to go downstairs. I followed my instincts and started heading down when I heard a soft noise coming from the parlour; it sounded like whispering and immediately I was alarmed.
For once, I could put my Auror training to use, so I stealthily crept down the stairs and hid under the stairwell. My head was aching horribly and I was in no mood to deal with intruders. It had been a long time since I had dealt with criminals, so whoever had been stupid enough to mess with my family was going to get their bollocks cursed off.
My wand was drawn and I was ready to hex whatever arsehole had broken into Andromeda’s house into oblivion, but what I found was so much worse. If only it had been an intruder that was waiting for me downstairs. An intruder, even a Death Eater, was simple to deal with; it was something I could fight, a threat that I could destroy. But the scene I found downstairs was like something out of my nightmares-there was nothing I could do to help, no villain to exterminate. I had to bite my tongue sharply to keep myself from crying out and going to Andromeda. I knew that I had stumbled upon a private moment, and she would be devastated or at least highly embarrassed if she had found me spying on her. But I couldn’t make myself turn around. I was frozen on the spot.
Yes, all I could do was watch, and it broke my heart.
Andromeda was sitting in an old rocking chair that usually stood in the corner of the sitting room completely unused. She had her hair tied back in a loose plait, and it made her appear at least ten years younger; she looked like a school girl again and oh-so fragile. She had a pale blue jumper tossed across her bony shoulders; she had gotten much too thin in these last few weeks even if she had only been eating macarons and tea. The blue jumper was so familiar; I remembered it well. It was the last present that Narcissa had gotten her sister for her birthday and Andromeda had adored it. She wore the soft cashmere jumper often and always made sure to tell anyone that would listen that her thoughtful sister had gotten it specially made for her from imported grass-fed goats. I remember asking her why it mattered that the goats were grass-fed, but Andromeda just ruffled my hair and told me that I wouldn’t understand because I was a bloke. That seemed like such a silly excuse because you’re a bloke too, and I’m sure you would understand why imported cashmere was better than regular cashmere-whatever that means. I probably should have asked you because now I’ll never know the difference.
I tried my best to keep silent as I watched her from the stairwell, but seeing her beautiful features so etched in pain and knowing that I was helpless was one of the most difficult things I have ever done, which is saying a lot considering some of the atrocities I have witnessed. I watched her slowly swaying back and forth in her old rocking chair; she was clutching an old doll that although I had never seen before, I would bet at one time had belonged to Narcissa. Her face was completely blank, her blue eyes listless and empty. It reminded me so much of another pair of blue-grey eyes that I had previously seen.
“Cissa,” Andromeda cried softly, barely parting her lips. She looked so fragile and broken that I could feel my chest tightening up. I wanted to wrap her in my arms so badly, but there was nothing to be done.
“Cissa,” she said again, this time a little louder.
Silent tears were streaming down her pale face and she didn’t seem to notice. She clutched the doll closer to her chest and started to mumble.
“Blood curses,” she said, as she stroked the doll’s pale blonde hair that was so strikingly similar to that of her previous owner. “Blood curses,” she repeated. “Blood curses aren’t real.”
She laughed softly then and seemed to regain a far off expression in her eyes.
“Please, not Teddy. Not Teddy. Take me instead.” She continued rocking back in forth in her chair and stroking the doll’s hair. “At least Draco’s strong,” she whispered. “I don’t have to worry about him.”
At this point, Andromeda broke into destructive sobs, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I had imposed enough, and this kind, albeit broken woman deserved her privacy. I let the poor woman mourn in peace and returned to my room.
I didn’t sleep at all that night.
: : :
After that night, I tried my best to keep to my room at night even if I couldn’t sleep. I had never heard of blood curses before, and I wanted to know more about them. Still, it wasn’t my place to ask Andromeda about them, especially because I could never admit to spying on her. I’ve always been shite at research, so I did what I always do when I have questions and asked Hermione about it. Hermione laughed when I asked her about blood curses; she insisted that they didn’t exist and were an old pureblood legend. She said that Andromeda was probably still in shock over her sister’s death, so she was coming up with reasons for her sister’s suicide-even if they were completely irrational and ill-founded like blood curses. At the time it made me feel better, but I still worried about Andromeda’s mental state.
“How can I help?” I asked Hermione hoping that as always she would have the answer to my problems.
“Oh, Harry,” she said. “You can’t fix this. She’s lost so much-her husband, her daughter, and now her sister-just be there for her and help with Teddy. You have to give her time. Only time can help and heal her broken heart.”
Of course, I hadn’t liked Hermione’s advice, but as always, she was right. All I could do was be there for Andromeda and pray that she would heal quickly.
“Yes, Hermione, I’ll try my best.”
I had promised Hermione that I would no longer spy on Andromeda and that I would give her some space. I was hoping that I wasn’t lying through my teeth. I would do anything to help Andromeda and Teddy; in a short time, the middle-aged woman and her grandson had become my family, and I was fiercely protective of them. If only there was something I could do. For the first time since the end of the war, I called upon Narcissa’s memory and cursed her fervently. How dare she hurt my Andie so badly? And you, you were probably affected by this too, even if you didn’t show it.
: : :
Although her method of healing was a bit peculiar, apparently it had worked because a couple months after Narcissa’s death, Andromeda seemed to be getting better. Colour had returned to her pale cheeks, she starting eating more than just sweets, and even insisted that we take Teddy out to the park. I could not have been happier to see Andromeda make such progress until that dreaded day so many months ago that changed things so severely.
For many reasons, I have never been a big supporter of the press. Reading the paper just wasn’t a part of my morning routine. Andromeda, however, was a different story. Perhaps it was because of her age or perhaps it was because she lived so far out from civilization, but Andromeda was obsessed with newspapers. She had subscriptions to all the major wizarding papers, both French and British, but most importantly, she read them religiously. It had made me quite embarrassed knowing that she had read all the false and horrid lies that had been published about me for so many years. Still, what the papers wrote that day was even more dreaded than anything they had every said about me.
One newspaper headline read: ‘Malfoy Heir Responsible for Mother’s Death’. Another read: ‘Another Black Meets Tragic Demise, Coincidence or Not?’. I couldn’t help but feel sick to my stomach. These worthless scum reporters were actually blaming you for Narcissa’s death. They claimed that you orchestrated the entire plot and then covered it up, so you could be the sole heir to both the Malfoy and Black Estates. It was the most ridiculous and nauseating thing I had ever heard. How could anyone ever write such rubbish? No one would believe such tragic lies, right?
I don’t know what made me want to read the papers that day, but some deeper, wiser power within myself had urged me to read the news. When I saw the atrocities in front of me, I wanted to dispose of all the papers- burn them and destroy the evidence-before Andromeda would see them and feel their pain. Yet, I never had the chance because Andromeda got out of bed early that day and snatched one of the papers from my hand. Her face went much paler than usual, an almost greenish colour, and she looked as if she were about to faint. I put a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to appear supportive, but there wasn’t much I could do.
“Oh my god,” she said, her tone so similar to that first day she had heard of her sister’s demise.
“I-I”
The poor woman was in shock; she could barely speak as she in took in the ghastly lies that were being spread in these sorry excuses for newspapers.
“I’ll get rid of them,” I told her. “I’ll cancel all the subscriptions at once. I always said they only printed rubbish.”
Unfortunately, Andromeda ignored my comments and refused to relinquish her grip on the paper.
“Oh my god,” she repeated; her blue eyes had darkened and for once, I could feel a trace of her normally weak magic crackling in the air. “I need to speak with Draco,” she said. “Right away.”
She quickly disappeared into the other room and I gulped loudly. Somehow, I had forgotten about you. It hadn’t even crossed my mind that you would read these horrid articles and be heartbroken. All of a sudden, my chest tightened even further.
“Andromeda,” I said, while making my way into the sitting room. “Is there anything I can do?”
“What?” she asked, her dressing gown covered in soot.
“How can I help?” I asked again.
“Oh,” she replied frowning. “Well, I can’t reach, Draco. His Floo is blocked off and I’m worried.”
“Um-well-I’m sure he’s fine. You know, erm-Draco,” I said, your first name sounding so foreign and strange on my tongue, but to my genuine horror not entirely unpleasant. “I’m sure he’s just being dramatic or busy.”
“Still, I-”
“I’m sure he’s fine,” I interrupted. “Why don’t you send him an owl? I’m sure he’ll respond to that.” I put my hand on Andromeda’s bony shoulder; she felt cold again and I was worried for her wellbeing.
“He’ll probably just laugh it off. He’s tough,” I said, trying to convince myself as much as Andromeda.
“I suppose you’re right, Harry,” she replied, although she looked far from convinced. “Let’s go have some breakfast.”
: : :
More than a week had passed since the dreaded newspaper incident, and Andromeda was frantic. She had written you several letters and hadn’t received a response to any of them.
“Harry,” she said, the grief obvious in her soft voice, “I’m so worried about him. He hasn’t responded to any of my owls and the last two have been returned unopened.”
I tried my best to offer my most reassuring smile and hugged her tightly.
“I’m sure he’s fine,” I said, even though deep down I knew it was a lie. “Perhaps he’s just on a trip. Maybe he needed to get away.”
“I hope,” Andromeda said, as she continued to prepare Teddy’s breakfast in the kitchen.
“It’s just not like Draco to not respond to my letters.” She sighed and turned to lock eyes with me. “He always writes back-even if it’s just a brief note telling me he’s busy.”
“Well-”
“I don’t know what to think.”
I smiled at the older woman, trying my best to keep the concern off my face.
“If it’ll make you feel better, I can ask around the Auror Department and see if they’ve heard anything.”
Andromeda sighed deeply and quickly dismissed the idea.
“Absolutely not,” she said, a sudden fierceness blazing behind her eyes. “I don’t want the Aurors anywhere near my nephew. They have terrorised him enough. Perhaps I should go and check on him.”
I looked at the frail older woman in front of me and felt a lump form in my throat. The poor woman had barely gained any strength at all in these past weeks, if she travelled all the way to England, who knows what would become of her health.
“Andie,” I said, hoping that my voice was kind but reasonable. “I can’t let you do that. You’re not well,” I said, trying to put it nicely that she wasn’t allowed to go.
“Harry-” she complained, “I’m not a child.”
“Of course not,” I snapped, “but you’re not well, and I’m sure your nephew is fine.”
“But-”
I sighed loudly and ran a hand through my messy hair. Oh, the things I would do for this woman. She was completely loony.
“If you want,” I said slowly, hoping desperately that I wouldn’t regret these words. “I can go check on him.”
Andromeda broke into a brilliant, dazzling smile. Her blue eyes lit up and her pale skin seemed to flush at the cheeks.
“You would do that for me?” she asked, completely astonished.
“Of course, I would,” I said evenly. “I would do anything for you and Teddy.”
She threw her arms around my neck and planted a stream of kisses on my head.
“You and Teddy are my only real family,” I said in between suffocating kisses. “If it’ll give you peace of mind, I’ll do it. Anything at all.”
“Thank you, Harry. Thank you so much,” she squealed. I couldn’t help but blush at her appreciation.
“It’s nothing.”
The last thing I wanted to do was go to Malfoy Manor and be hexed by you, but as I told Andromeda, I would do anything she asked of me, always.
::Four::
If I had known that to boost Andromeda’s spirits all I had to do was agree to go visit you, her most wretched nephew, then I would have agreed to do it weeks ago. That morning Andromeda was a different person; it was as if a huge burden had been lifted from her shoulders, and in rare moments, like when she was baking her famous lemon scones, I could see a glimpse of the former serenity and wisdom she used to radiate constantly.
In the last few weeks, I had put my not-so-highly-developed culinary skills into practise, and unfortunately, they had never progressed much from my former days of burning bacon in Little Whinging. Even Teddy was starting to protest that he didn’t want to eat mushy ‘pasghetti’ again, so I was grateful to have Andromeda reclaim her role in the kitchen that morning. She fixed the three of us a delicious lunch and even prepared a couple of meat pies for dinner. Her main hit though were her famous lemon scones.
It had been so long since she had made them last, and although I usually favoured chocolate éclairs, treacle tart, and other afters, Andie’s lemon scones were among my favourites as well. I found it strange that Andie insisted on eating lemon scones as an after rather than with tea, but it was a Black family tradition. Narcissa had started it when she was a little girl and of course, Andie and her darling nephew, liked to keep the tradition alive. In fact, lemon scones were her nephew’s favourite she told me, which was why she was baking them. She was baking a special batch for me to bring you on my visit. You lucky sod, Andie never baked me scones. I figured you wouldn’t even appreciate the kind gesture.
It’s ironic how much Andromeda adores you now; it’s as if she knew that now that Narcissa was gone you were going to need another mother, and she was more than happy to fill those shoes. Not too long ago, I remember her bad-mouthing Lucius Malfoy repeatedly and claiming that even though she didn’t know her nephew, she was positive that the insolent child was exactly like his father. If anyone were to say a negative word against you today, even if it’s me, she’ll have my head on a platter.
I couldn’t help but feel slightly jealous that Andromeda was fussing over you so heavily since she had practically ignored me for the last few weeks, but I knew that my jealousy was ill-founded. You had just lost your mother, for Merlin’s sake, and were living alone in that dreary manor; as much as I didn’t like you at the time, I still felt that you deserved someone’s compassion, just not mine.
After a satisfying lunch, I made my way to Malfoy Manor. I hadn’t been to the manor since the war. The one time I had seen your mother after her trial, she had insisted that we meet in Diagon Alley. I suppose she understood that I wouldn’t want to visit her at Malfoy Manor no matter how honourable her intentions were. I wasn’t sure what to expect when I reached the manor again. Somehow, the manor was even more worn and desolate than I remembered it. The formidable front gate had been left slightly ajar-the golden ‘M’ that had once stood for power and prestige was falling slightly, barely hanging on by its hinges. Now, it almost appeared to be an ‘E’ rather than the once intimidating ‘M’. There were broad hedges, which enclosed the meandering path that led to what had once been a charming, ancestral Manor house, but was now just a bleak shadow of its former glory. I remembered the hedges to have been neatly clipped and surrounded by vibrant flowerbeds and even a few white peacocks. Now, they were completely overgrown and bedraggled; there wasn’t a peacock in sight.
I was more than a little shocked that you had allowed the manor to fall into this derelict state, but that was the least of my worries. As I approached the manor door, I could tell that something was wrong. It was a dark and dreary afternoon. It had rained all morning, and the sky was still entirely clouded over; yet, the manor was completely dark. There wasn’t a light on in any areas of the vast house, not even in what I knew to be the house-elves’ quarters. The manor appeared abandoned and discarded, and I desperately hoped that you had gone on some luxurious vacation in the Mediterranean because the alternative was unimaginable. As much as I hated your stupid, pointy face, I couldn’t help but feel a lead weight growing and gnawing at my stomach. Merlin, I really regretted eating that second helping of pudding.
Why did I care what happened to you anyway? You were a foul git-you always have been.
As I knocked on the foreboding door, I held my breath. Everything would be fine, I assured myself. It had to be...for Andromeda’s sake. And as loathe as I was to admit it, for my sake too. For some reason I just couldn’t explain, I cared what happened to you too. I wanted, no I needed, you to be all right.
: : :
The next few hours, turned out to be some of the longest of my life.
I had knocked incessantly on the door of your manor, but when no one answered, I tried a quick unlocking spell and the door opened easily. It was as if the house knew that its master was in trouble; all the wards that I knew had once been in place granted me access. I hesitantly searched the manor for any signs of you or at least one of the many house-elves, but the long, garish corridors were dust-ridden and empty. It appeared that the elves had taken a holiday or at least gone on strike because it was evident that they had been neglecting their duties. I tried not to panic since I hadn’t seen evidence of danger or foul play, but I still couldn’t shake that niggling feeling in my gut.
I continued wandering around the empty manor when I came across the dining room-the long, cherry oak dining table had been broken in half and the dozen Ashford leatherback chairs that usually surrounded it were overturned and strewn across the room. The antique china cabinets had been smashed open, and it appeared as all the expensive porcelain had been looted and the everyday tableware had been shattered. My heart started pounding furiously, and I cried out your name frantically.
I ran down the endless corridors utterly lost and helpless. Something terrible had happened; I was just so sure of it, but I couldn’t find you anywhere. After what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, I came across a lone house-elf cowering in the corner of the kitchen. It was banging its large head repeatedly on the nearest cupboard.
“Blood...Blood...” it squeaked. “So much Blood.”
I immediately felt a deep pang in my chest, but I tried to remain calm.
“What are you talking about? Tell me,” I demanded, my voice harsh and authoritative.
The creature ignored me. “Blood...blood,” it continued to squeak.
I had the greatest urge to shake the blithering creature into compliancy, but I wouldn’t gain anything by terrifying the house-elf. No, I needed to get it to trust me.
I kneeled down on the floor next to the elf and attempted to speak as kindly as possible. “What’s your name?”
“Blood...blood...so much blood,” the elf continued whimpering, now rocking itself back and forth and completely ignoring me.
“I’m Harry Potter,” I tried again. “And I need your help.”
The elf stopped rocking and met my gaze; it opened its large mouth up and starting wailing, a dreadful shrill howl.
“Stop that.” I was starting to get impatient now. “I need your help.”
The creature continued sobbing and ignored my request once again.
“Your master sent me,” I said, desperately trying to make eye contact with the barmy creature.
Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say because the elf started sobbing even more hysterically and then latched onto my leg.
“Master, Master.”
“I’m not your master. Where’s your master?”
“Bad men,” it said, meeting my eyes again.
“What are you-”
The wretched creature tightened its grip on my leg and screeched even louder; streams of black tears were falling down its long, ugly face. Who knew that house-elves cried black tears?
“Bad men hurt Master,” the small elf choked out. “Bad, bad men.”
“Who? Where is your master?” I demanded. I was yelling now and trying to remove the elf from my appendages, but it was no use. It was as if the heinous creature was glued onto me. Desperation was choking me; an overwhelming urge to see you right that instant caused the air to tangibly tense with my uncontrollable magic. The house-elf was clearly mental because you had to be okay-had to-because Andromeda would not be able to handle losing you too. Not after everything else that had already been taken from her. And somehow, I knew that I couldn’t either.
“Stop crying,” I threatened. “If you don’t stop crying...”
My harsh words seemed to have no effect on the elf; if anything, they were only making her scream louder. I was beyond panicked at this point and needed to do something and fast.
“Please,” I said, using my softest voice. “I’m a friend of Dobby’s. I’m sure you remember Dobby.”
The small elf stopped crying and nodded vigorously.
“That’s good. I really liked Dobby,” I continued. I hated thinking about that mad elf; it still broke my heart knowing that he sacrificed everything for me and I couldn’t even give him a proper burial, but now was not the time for regrets. I was desperate and needed this other elf to help me.
“I’m a friend of your master’s too. Where is he? Did something happen to him?”
“Master...Master,” the small elf sobbed, her big eyes filling with tears again.
“No, don’t cry. I need you to be brave. Please, for Dobby. Dobby was so brave.”
The elf didn’t stop crying, but at least she had released her death grip around my leg.
“Thanks. Now, where’s your master?”
“Bad elves. All left. Only Binky stay...bad, bad elves.”
I took a deep breath and tried to remain patient.
“It’s okay, Binky,” I said kindly. “You can tell me. I’m going to help your master. What happened?”
The elf brought its knobby knees to its chest and started rocking back and forth again. “Blood...blood...bad, bad men.”
“Binky, please.” This was getting ridiculous now. If you truly had been attacked, then listening to an incoherent and blithering house-elf was not going to help, and every second spent coddling Binky was a second wasted with your life on the line. I was about to give up and seek you out myself when the elf got up and wrapped itself around my legs again. This time, however, it Apparated us with a quick snap to a large parlour room.
I had never been inside that room before and under normal circumstances, it would have been quite a lovely room with its stunning baby grand piano in the centre of the room and its elegant wall of windows. On the opposite end of the room, there was an antique vanity that was covered in cobwebs and a small fireplace that was adorned with a large, portrait of the late Narcissa Malfoy. Luckily, it wasn’t an enchanted portrait because at that moment, I didn’t think I could face the late Mrs Malfoy, particularly because of what I encountered below. There you were lying in the corner of the room, huddled on the floor next to the unused fireplace.
I let out a sharp gasp, as I saw you lying there, all bruised and battered on a top of a blood stained sheet. You were broken and motionless, and I was shocked by the sudden consuming need to seek out whoever had harmed you and make them pay dearly-perhaps even with their lives.
You were lying face down and all I could see were patches of pale skin peeking out from under tattered, bloody clothing and your long, white blond hair that was stained with blotches of crimson.
I stroked your silvery locks and was surprised to find that they were still baby soft even while covered in blood. I gently turned you over in fear of further aggravating your already prevalent injuries. When I turned you over, I gasped; I knew that you would have injuries, but I wasn’t ready to face your usually pale face, that I had memorised from watching you so many years in the Great Hall, looking so incredibly broken. Rather than being its usual almost transparent white, your skin was grey; your high cheekbones were protruding and bruised. Your pale lips were covered in dried blood and almost blue in colour. You needed help immediately.
“Malfoy,” I said, while shaking you carefully. “Malfoy, can you hear me?”
You didn’t respond and I felt my heart clench, threatening to rip itself from my chest if I didn’t do something and quick. The tumult of feelings that washed over me was almost too much to handle: grief, loss, fury, confusion, and most importantly fear. I was afraid that I was too late, that I wouldn’t be able to save you. I needed you to wake up, begged you to open your eyes, but you just laid there limp in my arms as I softly stroked your fair hair that looked almost golden in the daylight. I held my breath and cast a quick Vitality Charm, desperately praying that you were still alive. Thank Merlin that I had learnt that handy spell back in the war; otherwise, I would have lost it completely.
I let out a sigh of relief when my wand glowed a faint red, meaning that you still had a pulse, but it was dangerously weak. It didn’t matter though, as long as it wasn’t green, everything would be fine. It had to be. There was still time to save you. I just needed help and fast.
“Binky,” I said, summoning the elf who was now hiding underneath the piano. “What happened? How long has Malfoy been like this?”
The small elf crept further behind the piano, but answered me softly.
“Master sick...long, long time.”
“Binky?”
“Binky find Master on floor yesterday.”
“Yesterday!” I roared stepping away from your motionless body and faced the elf, the sheer rage on my face causing the elf to tremble visibly. I felt my blood start to boil. If you had been unconscious since perhaps as long as yesterday, then why hadn’t the elf informed anyone? Why hadn’t she helped you?
“Binky find sheet for Master,” the elf stammered out, now starting to shake violently underneath the piano.
“Well, why didn’t you get help? Why didn’t you tell someone?”
“Binky can’t-can’t...” Before the elf could finish her sentence, she started sobbing uncontrollably and banging her head against the underside of the piano.
“Binky sorry, bad Binky.”
“Never mind,” I said, trying to appease the frantic creature, “Just help me now.” I motioned over to your limp body. “We need to get him to St Mungo’s and immediately. I can’t carry him alone, and I’m afraid to cast any spells on him in his condition.”
“No,” Binky squeaked so quietly that I almost couldn’t make out the word. “No.” She was rocking back and forth again, and although I knew that Hermione would probably kill me, I was about to fling the stupid elf out the window.
“What do you mean no?” I could feel my magic crackling beneath my fingers. If I didn’t relax, I was going to lose control of my magic at any second. “This is your master we’re talking about. You have to help him. It’s your duty.” I crouched down next to the piano and stared the wretched elf straight in its big, bulging eyes.
“If you don’t help him,” I said darkly, “he’s going to die. And it’ll be on you,elf.”
“No...no...no!” Binky started wailing again, but slowly crawled out from underneath the piano. She wiped the black tears from her eyes and even though she was still hiccupping, she tried to explain. “Binky want to help. Binky love Master. Binky can’t leave Malfoy Manor.” She sniffled again and her voice started cracking. “Binky...wanna...die!”
“Fuck,” I shouted. “You’re tied to the manor. Is that what you’re telling me? You physically can’t leave?”
The small elf bobbed its head up and down.
“Fuck. No, no, no.” My head was spinning; I knew that I needed to do something, and I was running out of time. Every minute that I was standing here arguing with this ridiculous elf was a precious minute wasted that you might never get back. There was no way that I could Apparate you to St Mungo's alone-chances were that you wouldn’t survive the journey. Besides, I didn’t know how to transport a body in this condition. But I couldn’t just leave you there. I needed to do something-if only I had listened to Hermione and taken that Healer training class at Hogwarts.
I cast another Vitality Charm on you and noticed that your vitals had dropped even lower; if something wasn’t done immediately, there was a good chance you would die.
I took a deep breath and turned to the shivering elf again.
“Binky,” I said evenly. “I need you to listen to me and listen to me carefully. I am the sole heir of Sirius Black; he was your Mistress’s cousin who was also a Black. Do you understand?”
The small elf nodded again.
“Good. That means that I’m technically a Black too, so I can give you orders if necessary.”
The small elf looked hesitant and opened her large mouth to protest, but then appeared to change her mind and nodded once.
“So,” I said in my most commanding voice. “You will help me move Master Malfoy out of here. I know that you cannot leave the Malfoy Estate, but are you bound only to the Manor? What about the other Malfoy properties?”
“I-I don’t know,” Binky croaked.
“Do you know where your Mistress’s house is in the south of France? The one she gave to her sister?”
Binky nodded again, this time more furiously.
“It’s pretty there.”
“Right. Well, I order you to Apparate all three of us there right away. Do not waste anymore time or make me repeat myself.”
“Binky can’t leave Malfoy Manor,” she squeaked again; she was starting to sound like a broken record now, and it was getting on my nerves.
In an effort to compose myself, I bit down on my bottom lip furiously.
“Binky,” I said, my voice much calmer than before. “Please, just try. For your master.”
The small elf looked doubtful but nodded anyway.
I walked over to you and cradled you in my arms as the elf grabbed onto me.
“If you die on me, Malfoy you bastard, I’ll never forgive you and I’ll summon your spirit, so I can kill you again. Do you hear me?” I shouted at your broken body, which was much too light for that of a grown man.
Well here goes nothing.
Part 2...