Birthday gift fic!
Howdy howdy howdy:
Big apologies, but no updates; however, I will assure you that while very, very slow, progress is being made on Vertigo, which will not be abandoned. I know exactly how it's all ending; it's just a question of getting all the words down on paper.
I had a lovely pep talk from our resident porn goddess calanthe_fics, who gave me the valuable advice to just write when I can, what I can, even if it's only a paragraph a day. So it's crawling, yes, but at least it's moving.
In other news, profmckitten wrote me a birthday fic! *snuggles profmckitten* It's lovely and sweet and angsty-with-a-happy-ending. It's posted behind the cut, so enjoy, and tell her how awesome she is!
Thanks, y'all!
jen
*****
Draco was lying in bed, reading a massive Potions tome. Harry, his husband of just over a year, lay next to him. Draco could tell from the measure of Harry’s breathing htat he was nearly asleep. He reached out and stroked Harry’s back. Harry rewarded him with a deep purring sound and by inching a little closer to Draco’s body. Draco’s wedding band twinkled against Harry’s skin, and though he supposed it made him something of a sentimental twat, he couldn’t help but smile. Harry had been exceedingly busy the past month, working late at the Ministry where he was an Auror, and it was nice to have a peaceful moment with him at a semi-decent hour of the evening.
A shrill, techno beat tore through the tranquil scene. Harry sat up with a jump, mumbling “Fuck!” and scrambling his hand over his bedside table.
“Is that your mobile thingy?” Draco asked.
“Yeah. Who the fuck is calling so late?” Harry growled. He flipped open the little phone, checking the number. Draco couldn’t help but notice that his eyes widened and his lips tightened.
“Um, I’ll be right back,” Harry muttered, springing from the bed and running from the room.
Draco put his book to the side and looked to where Harry had just been in confusion. His husband had never had to leave his side to take a call before.
A horrible thought ran through Draco’s mind, chilling him to the bone. It was late. Harry had to leave the room to take the call, the call which seemed to irritate him greatly. He had been working late almost every night for a going on a month.
“Oh God,” Draco croaked. “He’s cheating on me.”
Draco lunged from the bed and snuck out into the hallway, trying to discern where Harry had gone. Instead of wasting more time, he flicked his wand and whispered “Amplificio Harry” into the night air. Harry’s voice came to him at once.
“That’s great, Gin, but you can’t call here! He was sitting right beside me, for Merlin’s sake!...Of course I want to…I dunno, tomorrow’s not good. We’re supposed to meet for lunch tomorrow…Are you sure?...Is it someplace where no one can find us?...All right, I’ll meet you…when?...Yeah, but owl me at the Ministry first thing in the morning with the address so I know where to Apparate. And be more careful! I can’t have him finding out! It’d ruin everything…All right…You too. Good night.”
Draco heard the little phone snap shut, but it barely registered. He felt like he was going to vomit. Harry was cheating on him with Ginny Weasley. They were meeting tomorrow for lunch-in a place no one could find.
“Oh my God,” Draco croaked again, tears welling in his eyes.
The sound of Harry’s footfalls coming back towards the bedroom got him moving again. Draco wiped his eyes and bolted back to bed. He threw the Potions book on the floor, curled up on his side and shut out the lights.
“Draco? I can’t see,” Harry said when he returned.
Draco did not reply, afraid of what his voice would give away.
“I know you’re not asleep already. Can I turn on the light?”
“Do whatever you want,” Draco spat, turning to hide his face in his pillow.
Harry turned the light on with his wand and climbed into bed. He put his hand on Draco’s arm. Draco yanked away.
“What’s wrong, love? Sorry I had to take that call. It was…Kingsley. We have a, um, last minute assignment tomorrow, so I won’t be able to have lunch with you after all.”
Draco didn’t reply, instead concentrating all his energy on not bursting out in noisy sobs.
“Draco? Draco?”
Draco scooted as far as he could towards the edge of the bed.
“Draco, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Harry.”
“Fine.” Harry said at last. Draco heard him utter a “nox” to shut the light, then he curled up on his side of the bed. In minutes, he was snoring loudly.
Tears started to leak from Draco’s eyes onto his pillow. “Bastard,” he whispered before burying his face in his pillow and crying himself to sleep.
**
The next day, Draco hid in the bathroom while Harry readied himself for work. He didn’t even say good-bye when Harry knocked lightly on the door and told him he was leaving.
“Draco, what have I done?” Harry asked.
“Go to work, Potter! And tell Kingsley hi for me.”
“You really are mental sometimes, you know that?” He heard Harry sigh through the door. “I love you. See you tonight. I’m sorry for whatever it is that I have done.”
Draco waited until he heard the crack of Harry’s Apparating, then lowered his face to his hands and sobbed.
**
That afternoon, Draco found himself in the phone booth outside the Ministry right around lunch time. He picked up the phone and dialed the number.
“Welcome to the Minsitry of Magic. Please state your name and your business.”
Draco’s heart pounded in his chest.
“Draco Malfoy. Here to visit Harry Potter.”
There was a pause. “Mr. Potter is out of the office at the moment. He won’t be back until late this afternoon.”
Nausea permeated Draco’s being. Fighting for control, he started again.
“Oh, sorry. Is Kingsley Shacklebolt available?”
Another pause.
“Yes, Mr. Shacklebolt is in his office and says he will see you. Please take your name tag, affix it to your robes, and prepare to check your wand in the lobby. Thank you and have a pleasant day.”
“Not bloody likely,” Draco said, voice cracking. He reached out and snatched the badge from the phone.
**
“No, Draco, he didn’t say where he was going. Just that he needed a couple of extra hours today. Is something wrong?”
Draco found that he couldn’t quite meet Kingsley’s eyes.
“Um, no, nothing wrong. Is there anyway I can get in his office for a second?”
“Sure. It should be unlocked, so help yourself. Are you sure you’re all right, mate?”
Draco stood, his knees feeling shaky and weak. Never in a million years would he have guessed that Harry would do this to him, especially with Ginny Weasley. The urge to spill his guts to Kingsley Shacklebolt, a man he only knew in passing, was great. He felt heavy and full of sadness.
“I’m fine, thank you. I just need to see if Harry accidentally grabbed my case this morning. Thank you.”
“Sure. I’ll be sure to tell him you dropped by.”
“No, don’t!” Draco sputtered. Kingsley looked at him strangely. Draco sat back down. “It’s just, he’s been so busy lately. I don’t want him to think I’ve gone all needy and am stalking him here at work. It might look like I don’t trust him or something.”
“What’s he been busy at?” Kingsley asked. “Not up to some hair brained, save-the-world thing is he?”
Draco felt like a brick had dropped on him. “He hasn’t been working late?”
At last, it appeared that Kingsley was catching on. His mouth dropped open and a look of sympathy rose in his eyes.
“Er, once or twice…”
“Once or twice.” Draco turned his face away from Kingsley. “And, let me guess. The Ministry doesn’t use mobile thingies?”
Kingsley gave him a blank look.
“Little flippy thing you talk through? Muggle thing?”
“Um, no, no we don’t.”
Draco’s chin trembled and his eyes fell to the ground. He wrapped his arms around himself.
“Um, look, Draco, why don’t you just look round his office? I’ll not say a word about you being here. Take your time. He’s signed out until half three.”
Draco swallowed and once again felt his eyes filling with tears.
“Yes, thank you,” he mumbled before fleeing Kingsley presence. It wouldn’t do to break down in front of Harry’s boss.
**
Draco looked at the note in the center of Harry’s desk, over and over, and over again.
“It doesn’t mean anything,” he said out loud. “Harry’s notes could be written in a foreign language, they’re so vague. They’re scattered. They don’t mean anything.”
But he couldn’t help himself. He looked down at the most damning evidence yet, a note written on a scrap of paper in Harry’s hand. It was almost a whole thought, not just a word or two as was Harry’s wont.
Attorney. Papers for Draco.
It was worse than he ever suspected. Harry was going to divorce him.
**
Draco lay in the bed, staring at the ceiling, his hair wet at the temples from all the tears that had run down from his eyes. He had fire called his mother when he returned from the Ministry and spilled everything. Narcissa Malfoy had had a difficult time hiding her mirth at the news, which had hurt Draco nearly as much as Harry’s infidelity. But she had provided him with the name of the family attorney and had her house elves send over a bottle of potion that made him at least not care so much that his heart had been ripped out and torn asunder. He still hurt, but he couldn’t get too worked up about it under the thick fog that had enveloped his mind after taking a teaspoon full of the dark, ruby liquid.
He wasn’t even aware of the time, but he heard Harry’s familiar Apparation pop sound through the flat. Quickly, he rubbed at his eyes, hoping they didn’t look as dry and ragged as they felt.
“Draco? Where are you, sweetie?” Harry called.
Draco started to cry all over again.
Harry soon found him in the bedroom, curled up and sobbing. He rushed to the side of the bed.
“Baby, what’s wrong?”
“Get away from me!” Draco shrieked, shrinking from Harry’s touch.
He heard Harry gasp. “Draco, love, please, tell me what I’ve done for you to act this way?”
Draco sat up in the bed. He swayed back and forth a little, dizzy from the potion.
“Oh don’t play innocent with me, you, you…philanderer!”
“Philanderer?” Harry yelled.
“Yeah, philampender!” Draco slurred. His head was spinning.
Harry took a cautious step forward. “Are you all right? Has someone drugged you?”
Draco choked out a particularly loud sob. “No one has drugged me, you bastard! My mother-my sweet, wonderful mother, who warned me about you, told me that you’d break my heart-my mother sent something over to stop the pain!” Draco weakly banged his chest for emphasis.
Had he been sober, Draco would have noticed the incredible look of worry in Harry’s eyes as he sat on the edge of the bed.
“Love, you’re clearly ill. Here, lie down,” he said, reaching over and trying to gently push Draco back.
Draco reacted like a feral cat, swiping and clawing at Harry’s hands and arms.
“Don’t you touch me! You’ll never touch me again, do you hear me? Do you?”
Harry stood from the bed. “I’m calling a Healer. You’re not well.”
Draco staggered up to his feet. He wobbled back and forth, pointing his finger at three Harrys, unsure of which one was actually real. It didn’t matter. He’d make his point.
“Of course I’m not well. How could I be well? My hush-bend,” Draco’s knees gave for a moment, causing him to lurch sideways into the nightstand, “my hush-bend is having SEX-oh, God, I’m going to be sick,” Draco moaned, doubling over, one hand still on the nightstand, “SEX with Ginny bloody Weasley! Ohhhhhh….”
Draco’s poor potions addled brain finally gave out, and he toppled over onto the floor, unconscious.
**
He woke the next morning, alone in his and Harry’s bed, with a wicked headache. He squinted one eye open and groaned. There was something weighty on his chest. He snatched it up and scooted into a seated position. Very slowly, he opened his eyes.
They fell on a leather pouch.
It was the type of pouch wizard’s used to deliver legal documents. With trembling hands, he unfurled the string around the pin and opened the pouch. He closed his eyes again and pulled out the stack of papers.
“No,” he whispered miserably.
A million thoughts ran through his mind; he would never kiss Harry again, never hear his laughter, never feel his chest pressed to Draco’s own, heart pounding fiercely. He would never hold Harry’s hand, never take a bath with him, never be the beneficiary of Harry’s wonderful cooking. Or back rubs. Or foot massages. Or sweet words and looks.
Feeling as if he might die, Draco opened his eyes, then opened the pouch.
The first thing he saw was a hand written document titled “Deed to Secure Debt.” Paper clipped to the corner was a letter, written in Harry’s familiar hand.
Dear Draco,
Do you remember about a month ago, we were walking through Diagon Alley and people kept bothering us for photos and signatures? You said something like “I wish we could go somewhere where no one could find us, and just be together without all of this.” You seemed so sad, it hurt my heart. You know I can never abide your sadness, so since then, I have been searching the kingdom for a place that fit your description. I employed Ginny Weasley to do this, as she is a licensed real estate broker.
From what your mother tells me, you overheard mine and Ginny’s conversation and leapt to you own conclusions. While I am hurt that you would ever think that I would do that to you, I am sure you are a thousand times more hurt having thought it. Either way, I thought it might be best to leave. I am at Ron and Hermione’s, if you should decide you’d like to visit your little cottage together.”
Just then, the pouch in Draco’s lap tilted to one side. Several photos fell out. In them, an absolutely perfect cottage sat amidst beautiful, proper English gardens. There were no other buildings to be seen anywhere, only miles of dark, lush wood.
“Oh, Harry,” Draco whispered. He fingered the photos for a moment, then turned back to Harry’s letter.
All I can say, my love, is that I am sorry for whatever I’ve done that would make you think I would ever, in a million years, betray your trust. I have tried to be everything you needed me to be, everything you ever wanted, and I have obviously failed miserably. I only hope you can forgive my shortcomings and let me try again.
I love you.
The note was signed with a simple letter H.
Draco tore out of the bed and headed straight for the bathroom. Headache be damned, he had some crow to eat at Ron and Hermione’s, and he thought that it wouldn’t hurt to look his best while doing it.
**
Draco stood outside the door of the small flat nearly panting with nervousness. His arm was growing tired from holding the two dozen roses he’d purchased, but he hardly cared. The pain didn’t come close to enough punishment for having doubted his Harry.
He straightened his coat and lifted his fist to knock. It was shaking badly. He took a deep breath and rapped three times.
From the clodding footsteps coming to the door, he knew it was going to be Weasley that greeted him.
Ron looked him up and down with a frown. He eyed the roses with a smirk.
“Well, look who realized that he’s a fuck up, won’t you?”
Behind him, Draco heard the quick clip of Hermione’s approach.
“Ronald, move and let him in. Harry’s apoplectic in there.”
Ron stood aside, but his brows crinkled in worry. “What’s apoplectic? Will he be okay?” He turned to Draco. “You’d better hope he’ll be okay.”
“Where is he?” Draco asked Hermione, ignoring Ron completely. Mainly because he couldn’t help but agree with the Weasel.
“He’s in the parlor,” she said gently. “He’ll be thrilled to see you.”
“I hope so,” Draco said as he rushed past Harry’s best friends.
Draco entered the room as if he were walking on newly formed ice, roses held in front. Harry was sitting on the sofa, eyes turned towards the window. His back was straight and stiff, his eyes red and puffy. He looked abjectly miserable. Draco forgot his composure completely and ran to his side.
“Harry! I am so sorry! I’m such an arse!”
Harry’s stress stiffened body collapsed at once, and the tears started anew. He turned towards Draco, wringing his hands.
“No, love, I’m the arse! Please, tell me what I did that you’d think I would ever need someone other than you?”
“Oh, Harry,” Draco sighed. He threw the roses on the coffee table and took Harry’s face in his hands, wiping away tears with his thumbs. “You’ve done nothing. You’re perfect, more than I deserve!”
“Draco, don’t say that!” Harry cried, reaching up and stroking Draco’s face. “I love you so much! I only wanted to surprise you!”
Draco rained kisses on Harry’s face. “I know, sweetie, I know. You are the best, most perfect husband a man could ask for, and I am a cruel, heartless, insecure bastard!”
“No, love, you’re the most perfect, most wonderful, kindest-”
“Oh, bloody hell!” Ron yelled from the hallway.
“Ronald!” came Hermione’s voice. “Don’t you dare!”
But Ron burst into the room anyway. “You’re both a bunch of sodding idiots. Merlin, I have never heard such nauseating prattle in all my life. Malfoy, Harry couldn’t possibly love you more than he does, though for the life of me I can’t understand why. Harry, Malfoy loves you and realizes that he’s been an unappreciative baby! Look, he even brought flowers for you!”
“Don’t say that about Draco, Ron,” Harry warned.
“No, Harry, he’s right,” Draco said quietly.
This was so shocking a proclamation that both Harry and Ron stared at Draco, mouths open wide. Hermione even stuck her head in the door.
“He is,” Draco said softly.
“Well. There you have it. Now will the two of please get out of here and stop with the mush before I throw up?”
Harry and Draco turned and grinned at one another, albeit sheepishly.
“You know, Harry, that may be the best idea the Weasel has ever had.”
“Yes, it really might be,” Harry grinned.
The two men met in a heated kiss.
“Blimey! Vomiting now!” Ron shouted, throwing his hands in the air. Hermione pulled him back into the hall.
Draco pulled away from Harry and touched their foreheads together.
“Are we okay?”
Harry smiled. “We’re perfect. Wanna see your cottage?”
“I’d love to.”
Harry pulled a small silk bag from his pocket. He pressed it between his fingers, and soon the ornate handle of an ancient key emerged from the top.
“Not only is this the key to the front door, it’s a one-time Portkey. On three?”
Draco leaned forward and positioned his fingers over the handle. “One…”
“Two…” Harry said.
“Three!” they said in unison.
With a whoosh, they disappeared.
**
The first thing Draco registered was the quiet. He could hear the wind rustling through the flowers and the sound of twigs creaking under the weight of birds and squirrels. Having instinctively closed his eyes as they traveled through the air, he now opened them with a gasp.
The cottage was tiny, only slightly larger than Hagrid’s hut at Hogwarts had been, but it was gorgeous. The windows were diamond-shaped leaded glass that twinkled in the sun; the door was bright red and rounded at the top, and partially hidden under a thick bough of honeysuckle that sweetened the air; and, to Draco’s utter delight, the roof was thatched. It looked like a perfect fairly tale dream.
Draco raised his fist to his mouth. He turned to Harry, eyes wide, completely speechless.
Harry’s face fell. “You don’t like it.”
“Are you mad? It’s the best place I’ve ever seen!” Draco grabbed Harry and kissed him hard. “Take me inside,” he said against Harry’s lips.
Harry swept him off his feet and carried him to the door. With one foot, he gently pushed it open and crossed the threshold, Draco in his arms. There was an old fashioned iron stove, a small fireplace with two rocking chairs in front of it, a table for two made from a hoary slab of oak, and a window that looked out over the side garden. Draco could see another small room off to the side.
“Is that bedroom?”
“Yup.”
He kissed Harry again. “Take me in there.”
Harry carried him in. A huge bed, also made from old oak, took up most of the room. It was layered with old blankets and a brand new quilt with interlocking rings. There was another window overlooking the garden, an armoire tucked in one corner, and a dressing table with a large mirror tucked in the other. There was a gorgeous silk screen affixed across the corner closest to them, and behind it, Draco could see a large, claw foot tub.
“Mrs. Weasley made that quilt for us. It’s a wedding quilt. She wanted to give it to us when we got married, but she was so busy with Fleur’s and Ginny’s new babies, she only just now had the chance to finish it.”
“Harry, the place is beautiful. But…” Draco’s eyes darted around the room.
Harry laughed. “There is a loo out back for now. We’ll have to have one put in. We can fill the tub up with water from the well, though, and spell it hot.”
Draco shook his head. “No. I like it the way it is. It’s our place. I don’t want to change it at all. Besides, it’ll be fun to watch you run out to the loo in your pants during winter.”
“Really?” It was clear Harry was surprised.
“Really.”
Harry lowered Draco to the ground and wrapped his arms around him. “You know I love you, right?”
“I will never doubt you again, Harry. I can’t tell you enough how sorry I am that I ever did.”
“You’d better not. Doubt me again, that is.”
Draco pushed himself against Harry and lowered his eyes. “Why don’t you show me how much you love me? Just to make sure I really understand.”
Harry grinned and walked Draco back to the bed. “That, Malfoy, may be the best idea you’ve ever had,” he said, pushing Draco on to his back.
As they came together, only the squirrels, birds and rabbits heard Draco’s cries and Harry’s soft declarations of devotion.
*****
profmckitten's stories pwn my &hearts . For serious...
Big apologies, but no updates; however, I will assure you that while very, very slow, progress is being made on Vertigo, which will not be abandoned. I know exactly how it's all ending; it's just a question of getting all the words down on paper.
I had a lovely pep talk from our resident porn goddess calanthe_fics, who gave me the valuable advice to just write when I can, what I can, even if it's only a paragraph a day. So it's crawling, yes, but at least it's moving.
In other news, profmckitten wrote me a birthday fic! *snuggles profmckitten* It's lovely and sweet and angsty-with-a-happy-ending. It's posted behind the cut, so enjoy, and tell her how awesome she is!
Thanks, y'all!
jen
*****
Draco was lying in bed, reading a massive Potions tome. Harry, his husband of just over a year, lay next to him. Draco could tell from the measure of Harry’s breathing htat he was nearly asleep. He reached out and stroked Harry’s back. Harry rewarded him with a deep purring sound and by inching a little closer to Draco’s body. Draco’s wedding band twinkled against Harry’s skin, and though he supposed it made him something of a sentimental twat, he couldn’t help but smile. Harry had been exceedingly busy the past month, working late at the Ministry where he was an Auror, and it was nice to have a peaceful moment with him at a semi-decent hour of the evening.
A shrill, techno beat tore through the tranquil scene. Harry sat up with a jump, mumbling “Fuck!” and scrambling his hand over his bedside table.
“Is that your mobile thingy?” Draco asked.
“Yeah. Who the fuck is calling so late?” Harry growled. He flipped open the little phone, checking the number. Draco couldn’t help but notice that his eyes widened and his lips tightened.
“Um, I’ll be right back,” Harry muttered, springing from the bed and running from the room.
Draco put his book to the side and looked to where Harry had just been in confusion. His husband had never had to leave his side to take a call before.
A horrible thought ran through Draco’s mind, chilling him to the bone. It was late. Harry had to leave the room to take the call, the call which seemed to irritate him greatly. He had been working late almost every night for a going on a month.
“Oh God,” Draco croaked. “He’s cheating on me.”
Draco lunged from the bed and snuck out into the hallway, trying to discern where Harry had gone. Instead of wasting more time, he flicked his wand and whispered “Amplificio Harry” into the night air. Harry’s voice came to him at once.
“That’s great, Gin, but you can’t call here! He was sitting right beside me, for Merlin’s sake!...Of course I want to…I dunno, tomorrow’s not good. We’re supposed to meet for lunch tomorrow…Are you sure?...Is it someplace where no one can find us?...All right, I’ll meet you…when?...Yeah, but owl me at the Ministry first thing in the morning with the address so I know where to Apparate. And be more careful! I can’t have him finding out! It’d ruin everything…All right…You too. Good night.”
Draco heard the little phone snap shut, but it barely registered. He felt like he was going to vomit. Harry was cheating on him with Ginny Weasley. They were meeting tomorrow for lunch-in a place no one could find.
“Oh my God,” Draco croaked again, tears welling in his eyes.
The sound of Harry’s footfalls coming back towards the bedroom got him moving again. Draco wiped his eyes and bolted back to bed. He threw the Potions book on the floor, curled up on his side and shut out the lights.
“Draco? I can’t see,” Harry said when he returned.
Draco did not reply, afraid of what his voice would give away.
“I know you’re not asleep already. Can I turn on the light?”
“Do whatever you want,” Draco spat, turning to hide his face in his pillow.
Harry turned the light on with his wand and climbed into bed. He put his hand on Draco’s arm. Draco yanked away.
“What’s wrong, love? Sorry I had to take that call. It was…Kingsley. We have a, um, last minute assignment tomorrow, so I won’t be able to have lunch with you after all.”
Draco didn’t reply, instead concentrating all his energy on not bursting out in noisy sobs.
“Draco? Draco?”
Draco scooted as far as he could towards the edge of the bed.
“Draco, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Harry.”
“Fine.” Harry said at last. Draco heard him utter a “nox” to shut the light, then he curled up on his side of the bed. In minutes, he was snoring loudly.
Tears started to leak from Draco’s eyes onto his pillow. “Bastard,” he whispered before burying his face in his pillow and crying himself to sleep.
**
The next day, Draco hid in the bathroom while Harry readied himself for work. He didn’t even say good-bye when Harry knocked lightly on the door and told him he was leaving.
“Draco, what have I done?” Harry asked.
“Go to work, Potter! And tell Kingsley hi for me.”
“You really are mental sometimes, you know that?” He heard Harry sigh through the door. “I love you. See you tonight. I’m sorry for whatever it is that I have done.”
Draco waited until he heard the crack of Harry’s Apparating, then lowered his face to his hands and sobbed.
**
That afternoon, Draco found himself in the phone booth outside the Ministry right around lunch time. He picked up the phone and dialed the number.
“Welcome to the Minsitry of Magic. Please state your name and your business.”
Draco’s heart pounded in his chest.
“Draco Malfoy. Here to visit Harry Potter.”
There was a pause. “Mr. Potter is out of the office at the moment. He won’t be back until late this afternoon.”
Nausea permeated Draco’s being. Fighting for control, he started again.
“Oh, sorry. Is Kingsley Shacklebolt available?”
Another pause.
“Yes, Mr. Shacklebolt is in his office and says he will see you. Please take your name tag, affix it to your robes, and prepare to check your wand in the lobby. Thank you and have a pleasant day.”
“Not bloody likely,” Draco said, voice cracking. He reached out and snatched the badge from the phone.
**
“No, Draco, he didn’t say where he was going. Just that he needed a couple of extra hours today. Is something wrong?”
Draco found that he couldn’t quite meet Kingsley’s eyes.
“Um, no, nothing wrong. Is there anyway I can get in his office for a second?”
“Sure. It should be unlocked, so help yourself. Are you sure you’re all right, mate?”
Draco stood, his knees feeling shaky and weak. Never in a million years would he have guessed that Harry would do this to him, especially with Ginny Weasley. The urge to spill his guts to Kingsley Shacklebolt, a man he only knew in passing, was great. He felt heavy and full of sadness.
“I’m fine, thank you. I just need to see if Harry accidentally grabbed my case this morning. Thank you.”
“Sure. I’ll be sure to tell him you dropped by.”
“No, don’t!” Draco sputtered. Kingsley looked at him strangely. Draco sat back down. “It’s just, he’s been so busy lately. I don’t want him to think I’ve gone all needy and am stalking him here at work. It might look like I don’t trust him or something.”
“What’s he been busy at?” Kingsley asked. “Not up to some hair brained, save-the-world thing is he?”
Draco felt like a brick had dropped on him. “He hasn’t been working late?”
At last, it appeared that Kingsley was catching on. His mouth dropped open and a look of sympathy rose in his eyes.
“Er, once or twice…”
“Once or twice.” Draco turned his face away from Kingsley. “And, let me guess. The Ministry doesn’t use mobile thingies?”
Kingsley gave him a blank look.
“Little flippy thing you talk through? Muggle thing?”
“Um, no, no we don’t.”
Draco’s chin trembled and his eyes fell to the ground. He wrapped his arms around himself.
“Um, look, Draco, why don’t you just look round his office? I’ll not say a word about you being here. Take your time. He’s signed out until half three.”
Draco swallowed and once again felt his eyes filling with tears.
“Yes, thank you,” he mumbled before fleeing Kingsley presence. It wouldn’t do to break down in front of Harry’s boss.
**
Draco looked at the note in the center of Harry’s desk, over and over, and over again.
“It doesn’t mean anything,” he said out loud. “Harry’s notes could be written in a foreign language, they’re so vague. They’re scattered. They don’t mean anything.”
But he couldn’t help himself. He looked down at the most damning evidence yet, a note written on a scrap of paper in Harry’s hand. It was almost a whole thought, not just a word or two as was Harry’s wont.
Attorney. Papers for Draco.
It was worse than he ever suspected. Harry was going to divorce him.
**
Draco lay in the bed, staring at the ceiling, his hair wet at the temples from all the tears that had run down from his eyes. He had fire called his mother when he returned from the Ministry and spilled everything. Narcissa Malfoy had had a difficult time hiding her mirth at the news, which had hurt Draco nearly as much as Harry’s infidelity. But she had provided him with the name of the family attorney and had her house elves send over a bottle of potion that made him at least not care so much that his heart had been ripped out and torn asunder. He still hurt, but he couldn’t get too worked up about it under the thick fog that had enveloped his mind after taking a teaspoon full of the dark, ruby liquid.
He wasn’t even aware of the time, but he heard Harry’s familiar Apparation pop sound through the flat. Quickly, he rubbed at his eyes, hoping they didn’t look as dry and ragged as they felt.
“Draco? Where are you, sweetie?” Harry called.
Draco started to cry all over again.
Harry soon found him in the bedroom, curled up and sobbing. He rushed to the side of the bed.
“Baby, what’s wrong?”
“Get away from me!” Draco shrieked, shrinking from Harry’s touch.
He heard Harry gasp. “Draco, love, please, tell me what I’ve done for you to act this way?”
Draco sat up in the bed. He swayed back and forth a little, dizzy from the potion.
“Oh don’t play innocent with me, you, you…philanderer!”
“Philanderer?” Harry yelled.
“Yeah, philampender!” Draco slurred. His head was spinning.
Harry took a cautious step forward. “Are you all right? Has someone drugged you?”
Draco choked out a particularly loud sob. “No one has drugged me, you bastard! My mother-my sweet, wonderful mother, who warned me about you, told me that you’d break my heart-my mother sent something over to stop the pain!” Draco weakly banged his chest for emphasis.
Had he been sober, Draco would have noticed the incredible look of worry in Harry’s eyes as he sat on the edge of the bed.
“Love, you’re clearly ill. Here, lie down,” he said, reaching over and trying to gently push Draco back.
Draco reacted like a feral cat, swiping and clawing at Harry’s hands and arms.
“Don’t you touch me! You’ll never touch me again, do you hear me? Do you?”
Harry stood from the bed. “I’m calling a Healer. You’re not well.”
Draco staggered up to his feet. He wobbled back and forth, pointing his finger at three Harrys, unsure of which one was actually real. It didn’t matter. He’d make his point.
“Of course I’m not well. How could I be well? My hush-bend,” Draco’s knees gave for a moment, causing him to lurch sideways into the nightstand, “my hush-bend is having SEX-oh, God, I’m going to be sick,” Draco moaned, doubling over, one hand still on the nightstand, “SEX with Ginny bloody Weasley! Ohhhhhh….”
Draco’s poor potions addled brain finally gave out, and he toppled over onto the floor, unconscious.
**
He woke the next morning, alone in his and Harry’s bed, with a wicked headache. He squinted one eye open and groaned. There was something weighty on his chest. He snatched it up and scooted into a seated position. Very slowly, he opened his eyes.
They fell on a leather pouch.
It was the type of pouch wizard’s used to deliver legal documents. With trembling hands, he unfurled the string around the pin and opened the pouch. He closed his eyes again and pulled out the stack of papers.
“No,” he whispered miserably.
A million thoughts ran through his mind; he would never kiss Harry again, never hear his laughter, never feel his chest pressed to Draco’s own, heart pounding fiercely. He would never hold Harry’s hand, never take a bath with him, never be the beneficiary of Harry’s wonderful cooking. Or back rubs. Or foot massages. Or sweet words and looks.
Feeling as if he might die, Draco opened his eyes, then opened the pouch.
The first thing he saw was a hand written document titled “Deed to Secure Debt.” Paper clipped to the corner was a letter, written in Harry’s familiar hand.
Dear Draco,
Do you remember about a month ago, we were walking through Diagon Alley and people kept bothering us for photos and signatures? You said something like “I wish we could go somewhere where no one could find us, and just be together without all of this.” You seemed so sad, it hurt my heart. You know I can never abide your sadness, so since then, I have been searching the kingdom for a place that fit your description. I employed Ginny Weasley to do this, as she is a licensed real estate broker.
From what your mother tells me, you overheard mine and Ginny’s conversation and leapt to you own conclusions. While I am hurt that you would ever think that I would do that to you, I am sure you are a thousand times more hurt having thought it. Either way, I thought it might be best to leave. I am at Ron and Hermione’s, if you should decide you’d like to visit your little cottage together.”
Just then, the pouch in Draco’s lap tilted to one side. Several photos fell out. In them, an absolutely perfect cottage sat amidst beautiful, proper English gardens. There were no other buildings to be seen anywhere, only miles of dark, lush wood.
“Oh, Harry,” Draco whispered. He fingered the photos for a moment, then turned back to Harry’s letter.
All I can say, my love, is that I am sorry for whatever I’ve done that would make you think I would ever, in a million years, betray your trust. I have tried to be everything you needed me to be, everything you ever wanted, and I have obviously failed miserably. I only hope you can forgive my shortcomings and let me try again.
I love you.
The note was signed with a simple letter H.
Draco tore out of the bed and headed straight for the bathroom. Headache be damned, he had some crow to eat at Ron and Hermione’s, and he thought that it wouldn’t hurt to look his best while doing it.
**
Draco stood outside the door of the small flat nearly panting with nervousness. His arm was growing tired from holding the two dozen roses he’d purchased, but he hardly cared. The pain didn’t come close to enough punishment for having doubted his Harry.
He straightened his coat and lifted his fist to knock. It was shaking badly. He took a deep breath and rapped three times.
From the clodding footsteps coming to the door, he knew it was going to be Weasley that greeted him.
Ron looked him up and down with a frown. He eyed the roses with a smirk.
“Well, look who realized that he’s a fuck up, won’t you?”
Behind him, Draco heard the quick clip of Hermione’s approach.
“Ronald, move and let him in. Harry’s apoplectic in there.”
Ron stood aside, but his brows crinkled in worry. “What’s apoplectic? Will he be okay?” He turned to Draco. “You’d better hope he’ll be okay.”
“Where is he?” Draco asked Hermione, ignoring Ron completely. Mainly because he couldn’t help but agree with the Weasel.
“He’s in the parlor,” she said gently. “He’ll be thrilled to see you.”
“I hope so,” Draco said as he rushed past Harry’s best friends.
Draco entered the room as if he were walking on newly formed ice, roses held in front. Harry was sitting on the sofa, eyes turned towards the window. His back was straight and stiff, his eyes red and puffy. He looked abjectly miserable. Draco forgot his composure completely and ran to his side.
“Harry! I am so sorry! I’m such an arse!”
Harry’s stress stiffened body collapsed at once, and the tears started anew. He turned towards Draco, wringing his hands.
“No, love, I’m the arse! Please, tell me what I did that you’d think I would ever need someone other than you?”
“Oh, Harry,” Draco sighed. He threw the roses on the coffee table and took Harry’s face in his hands, wiping away tears with his thumbs. “You’ve done nothing. You’re perfect, more than I deserve!”
“Draco, don’t say that!” Harry cried, reaching up and stroking Draco’s face. “I love you so much! I only wanted to surprise you!”
Draco rained kisses on Harry’s face. “I know, sweetie, I know. You are the best, most perfect husband a man could ask for, and I am a cruel, heartless, insecure bastard!”
“No, love, you’re the most perfect, most wonderful, kindest-”
“Oh, bloody hell!” Ron yelled from the hallway.
“Ronald!” came Hermione’s voice. “Don’t you dare!”
But Ron burst into the room anyway. “You’re both a bunch of sodding idiots. Merlin, I have never heard such nauseating prattle in all my life. Malfoy, Harry couldn’t possibly love you more than he does, though for the life of me I can’t understand why. Harry, Malfoy loves you and realizes that he’s been an unappreciative baby! Look, he even brought flowers for you!”
“Don’t say that about Draco, Ron,” Harry warned.
“No, Harry, he’s right,” Draco said quietly.
This was so shocking a proclamation that both Harry and Ron stared at Draco, mouths open wide. Hermione even stuck her head in the door.
“He is,” Draco said softly.
“Well. There you have it. Now will the two of please get out of here and stop with the mush before I throw up?”
Harry and Draco turned and grinned at one another, albeit sheepishly.
“You know, Harry, that may be the best idea the Weasel has ever had.”
“Yes, it really might be,” Harry grinned.
The two men met in a heated kiss.
“Blimey! Vomiting now!” Ron shouted, throwing his hands in the air. Hermione pulled him back into the hall.
Draco pulled away from Harry and touched their foreheads together.
“Are we okay?”
Harry smiled. “We’re perfect. Wanna see your cottage?”
“I’d love to.”
Harry pulled a small silk bag from his pocket. He pressed it between his fingers, and soon the ornate handle of an ancient key emerged from the top.
“Not only is this the key to the front door, it’s a one-time Portkey. On three?”
Draco leaned forward and positioned his fingers over the handle. “One…”
“Two…” Harry said.
“Three!” they said in unison.
With a whoosh, they disappeared.
**
The first thing Draco registered was the quiet. He could hear the wind rustling through the flowers and the sound of twigs creaking under the weight of birds and squirrels. Having instinctively closed his eyes as they traveled through the air, he now opened them with a gasp.
The cottage was tiny, only slightly larger than Hagrid’s hut at Hogwarts had been, but it was gorgeous. The windows were diamond-shaped leaded glass that twinkled in the sun; the door was bright red and rounded at the top, and partially hidden under a thick bough of honeysuckle that sweetened the air; and, to Draco’s utter delight, the roof was thatched. It looked like a perfect fairly tale dream.
Draco raised his fist to his mouth. He turned to Harry, eyes wide, completely speechless.
Harry’s face fell. “You don’t like it.”
“Are you mad? It’s the best place I’ve ever seen!” Draco grabbed Harry and kissed him hard. “Take me inside,” he said against Harry’s lips.
Harry swept him off his feet and carried him to the door. With one foot, he gently pushed it open and crossed the threshold, Draco in his arms. There was an old fashioned iron stove, a small fireplace with two rocking chairs in front of it, a table for two made from a hoary slab of oak, and a window that looked out over the side garden. Draco could see another small room off to the side.
“Is that bedroom?”
“Yup.”
He kissed Harry again. “Take me in there.”
Harry carried him in. A huge bed, also made from old oak, took up most of the room. It was layered with old blankets and a brand new quilt with interlocking rings. There was another window overlooking the garden, an armoire tucked in one corner, and a dressing table with a large mirror tucked in the other. There was a gorgeous silk screen affixed across the corner closest to them, and behind it, Draco could see a large, claw foot tub.
“Mrs. Weasley made that quilt for us. It’s a wedding quilt. She wanted to give it to us when we got married, but she was so busy with Fleur’s and Ginny’s new babies, she only just now had the chance to finish it.”
“Harry, the place is beautiful. But…” Draco’s eyes darted around the room.
Harry laughed. “There is a loo out back for now. We’ll have to have one put in. We can fill the tub up with water from the well, though, and spell it hot.”
Draco shook his head. “No. I like it the way it is. It’s our place. I don’t want to change it at all. Besides, it’ll be fun to watch you run out to the loo in your pants during winter.”
“Really?” It was clear Harry was surprised.
“Really.”
Harry lowered Draco to the ground and wrapped his arms around him. “You know I love you, right?”
“I will never doubt you again, Harry. I can’t tell you enough how sorry I am that I ever did.”
“You’d better not. Doubt me again, that is.”
Draco pushed himself against Harry and lowered his eyes. “Why don’t you show me how much you love me? Just to make sure I really understand.”
Harry grinned and walked Draco back to the bed. “That, Malfoy, may be the best idea you’ve ever had,” he said, pushing Draco on to his back.
As they came together, only the squirrels, birds and rabbits heard Draco’s cries and Harry’s soft declarations of devotion.
*****
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