HP Fanfic: Home (Part 2 of 2)
Title: Home
Author: khasael
Pairing: Harry/Draco (side Ron/Hermione, Bill/Fleur, Ginny/OC)
Rating: PG-13
Era: Approximately 10 years post-Hogwarts. Canon compliant through DH, but ignores the epilogue.
Word Count ~17,000
Beta: The fabulous hanelissar
Warning(s): (highlight to read)*angst, discussions of suicide, brief mention of past self-harm*
Summary: Draco struggles to leave the past in the past and figure out exactly what he wants. Harry works to attain what he is sure he wants.
Disclaimer: This piece of fiction is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made, no copyright or trademark infringement, or offence is intended. All characters depicted in sexual situations are above the age of consent.
Author’s Notes: Sequel to Newfound Light. Completes the Redemption arc.
Start with Part One
Harry wasn’t sure if he was going to forgive Draco for leaving him alone with Pansy. She had said they had things to discuss as their dates had wandered away, but they’d been alone nearly five minutes and she hadn’t said a word. Finally, Harry could take the silence no longer. “Is this someplace you like to come often?”
Pansy looked back at him, taking her eyes off the people dancing beyond the tables. “Hm? Oh. It’s a nice enough place, for this part of town. There’s a little club in Venice that’s much nicer, but I don’t get out that way often.”
Harry made a noise that he hoped sounded interested. He’d never been to Venice. And he wasn’t really one for clubs in any case. He had gone to a few after he broke up with Ginny, looking to enjoy himself, but the number of women (and even men) who had thrown themselves at him had unnerved him, and since then he had stuck to pubs and restaurants with his friends, finding the Muggle ones to be more relaxing. He tried to remember if he and Pansy had anything in common besides Draco. They had never gotten along in school. She had called for him to be handed over to Voldemort, though that certainly hadn’t gone over well for her. And none of the times they had met since had gone well. He decided to abandon the small talk. “You said we had things to talk about?”
“I did.” She chewed on her lower lip, wearing away the crimson lipstick she had applied for the evening. The look of concentration didn’t look at home on her face. No, that wasn’t it. It was the uncertainty. Slytherins had an arsenal of facial expressions, most of them involving some sort of superiority or derision, but uncertainty didn’t look right on them. He had seen enough of it during the last bit of the war and immediately after. He still saw it on Draco’s face now and then.
“Well?”
“Shut it, Potter, I’m thinking.”
Well, that was more like it. That was the Pansy Parkinson he knew. “Whenever you’re ready.” He was a bit proud of himself-his first instinct had been to retort with something closer to ‘don’t hurt yourself trying something new’. He wondered if Draco would be proud of him, too.
“It’s come to my attention, Potter,” she said at last, now worrying the chain around her neck in a distracted fashion, “that this thing you and Draco have isn’t some passing phase.”
“You worked that out, did you?” Harry said before catching himself. So much for Draco being proud of him. Well, he should have known better than the leave the two of them alone.
“Ignoring the rude comment, I’ll just say that even if it wasn’t obvious, he as much as told me himself.”
Harry was torn between revelling in the knowledge and wondering exactly what that meant. “As much as told you?” he said, hoping she knew what he meant by his emphasis.
“He didn’t say it directly. But to someone who’s known him since we were small children, he may as well have. He has made allusions that he likely hasn’t even realised. This isn’t some infatuation because of who you are or because he’s finally ready to start…living again. Whatever this is, it goes deep into him. There’s no cutting you out of his life. If you had any idea what that fight of yours early this year did to him…”
She didn’t continue, and Harry couldn’t help but think of the feral sneer she had given him when he and Hermione had run into Pansy and Draco in Fortescue’s ice cream parlour. When he looked at it properly, it reminded him of a lion protecting her cub. Harry didn’t think either Draco or Pansy would like the comparison. Too Gryffindor. He was distracted from his thought by the sight of someone approaching Draco at the bar. Some dark-haired man was leaning much too close to be casual. And then he put a hand on Draco’s arm. Harry’s blood pressure went up.
Pansy followed his gaze. “You don’t have to worry, you know.” They both watched as Draco said something with a smile. After a moment, the smile faded and Draco’s face went cold. It was the look he used to give Harry when they attended Hogwarts. Draco said something sharply and yanked his arm away, turning to Anton instead and shutting off the other man’s advances. “See? Whether you realise it or not, Potter, you’re exactly what Draco needs. Further, and more importantly, mind you, you’re what he wants.”
Harry looked away from the bar and into Pansy’s dark brown eyes. “It just so happens those things are reciprocated.”
“Glad to hear it. The last thing I want is him hurt again, especially when he’s so much like his old self these days. He may have kept me at arms length for a number of years after finally reappearing from self-imposed exile, but I would do anything for him. Including being nice to you.” She narrowed her eyes at Harry as he opened his mouth to ask if this was what she considered nice. “I’m trying, okay? I know it means a lot to him that we get along. And call me a sap, but I like seeing him happy.”
Harry decided against saying that he had never considered Pansy a sap, and wouldn’t be starting that now. “You’re not the only one.”
“Good. I know we’ve never gotten along, Potter, and I can’t say I’ll always be sweet, but we can put up with each other, right? You can’t tell me your friends immediately took to Draco. If they’re okay with your relationship in the first place. I have a hard time picturing Weasley being even remotely civil.”
“If you want us to get along, Pansy, you might want to cut the disrespect toward my friends. Maybe Draco isn’t who they saw me dating. But they’re polite and want to get to know him because-”
“Because you want them to,” Pansy finished for him. Harry had actually been about to say ‘because he makes me happy’.
“Close enough.”
“The boys are headed back, but I have one last thing for you,” she said, dropping her voice. “If you feel the way you say you do, then show it. Make sure he knows.”
Harry rather thought that the front page of The Prophet a few months ago made sure everyone knew, but he didn’t say that. Pansy probably meant something else by her comment anyway. “All right.”
Draco handed Harry a small glass of Firewhiskey and slid into the booth next to him as Anton did the same on the other side of the table. “I see you both remain unhexed. I knew you could behave.”
“Of course we did, Draco. Just a couple of peacekeepers. You know us,” Pansy said with a perfectly straight face. Damn Slytherins. Harry no longer put a lot of stock into some of the house stereotypes, but some people were the epitome of those traits.
For his part, Draco simply laughed. Harry loved that sound, which was sounding more and more natural and easier as time went on. “Indeed I do. Which is why I’m surprised neither of you drew your wand at the other.” He took a sip of his wine and placed his unoccupied hand lightly atop Harry’s left thigh. Moving his hand slowly as Anton told them about himself, Harry laced his fingers through Draco’s. He did want this. More than he could really make anyone understand.
~*~
“Harry?”
Harry looked up from the papers he had spread across the desk. He generally made it a point not to bring work home, but this was a favour for a friend of the Minister’s, and though he was getting paid, he wanted it over and done with. “What is it?” He made a face as he absentmindedly nibbled on the quill in his hand. Ink. Not a Sugar Quill.
“Chewing on your quill is a bad habit, Harry. As is working on your day off.”
“I know. But I want this finished.”
“Is that the investment project for the Minister’s friend?”
“Yes. Did you come to lecture me about work habits?”
Draco shrugged, looking suddenly smaller. He hadn’t moved from the doorway of Harry’s study. Harry wondered what time it was. He cast a quick Tempus in the silence. After midnight.
“I was just wondering when you were coming to bed. I wanted to talk to you about something.”
Harry managed a smile, though it felt stretched. He wanted to be back in bed with Draco. His bed felt right with the both of them in it, the warmth from their bodies removing the chill from the cool sheets. And though Draco never said anything, Harry thought he might sleep better when they slept together. The nightmares seemed to have gone, save for a few rare occasions, and it was uncommon now for Harry to wake up to find Draco staring out the window. “All right. Give me another twenty minutes. I just need to run a few more numbers. I’ll be there soon.”
With only a nod, Draco left the room, padding softly in bare feet. Whatever he had come to talk about, it had to be something unpleasant. He had shrunk in on himself. Finally satisfied with his work, Harry flicked his wand and sent the paperwork into his briefcase and trudged off to bed.
Draco lay there, facing toward the window. He was curled up under the covers, his arms around himself, and his breathing was deep and even. Harry felt guilty for making him wait long enough for him to have fallen asleep. Shedding his jumper and jeans, Harry slid carefully into bed, trying not to disturb the body next to him.
“Get everything finished?”
Harry jumped at Draco’s low, quiet voice. He hadn’t been sleeping at all. That meant he had been lying there, thinking about whatever had him so serious as he waited for Harry. “As finished as I can get them without checking a few last things at Gringotts. But I’m done with work for the weekend. I’m all yours until Monday.” He shifted and Draco rolled over, facing Harry in the dark. “What was it you wanted to talk about?”
Draco said nothing for several moments. Finally, when Harry’s mind began to drift enough that he realised how tired he really was, he spoke softly. “I’ve been thinking about finally getting rid of the Manor.”
Harry forced his eyes open. Draco was looking at him intently, face close to his. His eyes were silver in the moonlight. He wasn’t sure what to say. “Are you sure?”
“I am. I don’t think I’ll get what the house itself should be worth if I sold it, given its history with the war, but I don’t care. It’s not about the money. I have everything I need on my own, and money can’t buy a damned thing I want.” Harry thought that Draco’s father might roll over in his grave if he could hear his son eschew riches so forcefully. “After the Ministry took so much of what we had, I learned to value other things. I just want…” He trailed off, and Harry could feel the unhappiness in the air. “I just want it over and done with. Father’s been gone five years, Mother’s been gone for one. It’s been nine months since I last stepped foot in the Manor. Even if it doesn’t sell, I can’t bear to own it anymore. I’ll donate it to a charity. Pick one of your favourites. I know you care about that sort of thing.”
“Is that really what you want?”
“It is, Harry. I’ve been thinking it over for a long time. And I made the decision while visiting the family mausoleum to pay my respects to my mother. It seems right.”
Harry didn’t doubt that Draco wouldn’t be swayed from this decision. His voice was firm. On any other subject, Harry would have teased him about that stubborn tone. Instead he just drew Draco into his arms. “Then say the word, and I’ll help you pack up and get it ready. Tomorrow, if you want.”
A hint of a smile passed over Draco’s lips, gone before it had a chance to find a home. “You would do that?”
“I’d do that,” Harry assured him, their bodies melding together underneath the duvet. He would do a lot of things for Draco. Helping him achieve closure wasn’t even something he had to think about.
~*~
The work of packing up the Manor was tiring, but Draco knew it was more than just the act of putting things into boxes. This was the most emotionally draining thing he had done in a long time, and that was saying something. Packing up his old room was difficult, and though a lot of things went into storage, Draco had a strong feeling he would never pick them up again. Few of the memories were unsullied. Harry asked him over and over again if he was sure about some of the items he said should be donated. Neither of them even mentioned the cellar. Draco had been avoiding thinking about it as much as possible.
Even that wasn’t the worst of it. Draco tried to remain unemotional about the business at hand as much as he could. But when he got to his parents’ bedroom, he nearly lost the composure he had been able to keep. It was an easy enough decision to keep some of the Black family heirloom jewellery his mother had owned, and also simple enough to decide to donate both parents’ wardrobes. He had no use for all those expensive clothes. But when he came across his parents’ wedding bands… He had no idea how long he stared at them before Harry came up behind him. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Draco said softly. It was a lie, and they both knew it, but Harry didn’t call him out on it. His mother had taken to wearing his father’s wedding band on a chain around her neck after his death, a personal keepsake. And she had left both rings to him in her will, requesting not to be buried with them as he thought she would want. He had placed hers on the same chain the day after the funeral, not long before Harry had wandered in on him sitting in his mother’s garden. He hadn’t looked at them since.
Harry stood behind him and wrapped his arms around Draco’s shoulders and chest. “You’re keeping those.” After a moment, he let go with one arm and picked up the chain, slipping the jewellery into Draco’s pocket. “Anything else in here you want?”
Draco looked around at the remaining things. “Just that armoire. Everything else can be donated. Next room.”
“There’s only one room left,” Harry said, likely in an attempt to cheer him. Their work was almost done.
Draco didn’t need Harry to point that out. He knew exactly which room they had left. He had been avoiding it, same as he had been ignoring the existence of the cellar. But he had never told Harry about his feelings for the room, and he led Harry to it determined to close himself off to protect himself.
He entered his father’s study carefully. It was just a study. Bookshelves everywhere, books fastidiously organised. A fireplace that had been unused for five years now. And a large mahogany desk, the only item in the Manor that had a layer of dust on it. Neither he nor his mother had set foot in here, and they hadn’t even bothered with the dust-repelling charms. No one used this room anymore.
He didn’t even realise he was shaking until Harry took his hand. “What’s wrong?”
Draco closed his eyes to try to shut out the visions his memory had dredged up. It didn’t work. “This is where he did it. This is where my father killed himself.”
~*~
Harry felt something inside his chest tighten. He had known Draco’s father had committed suicide. But that was all Draco had ever told him. He didn’t even know it had happened at home. “Oh. I didn’t realise.”
“We kept it out of the papers, somehow.” Draco’s voice was distant, devoid of any real emotion. “So no one got to revel in the sordid details. But I was the one who found him. I came in one night to tell him Mother was asking when he might come to bed, and there he was, collapsed over the desk. It was poison. The empty bottle was on the floor. I don’t know what he used, I don’t want to know, but it left this horrific look of fear on his face. Maybe it was painful. Or maybe he saw what was waiting for him after this life.”
Harry had no idea what to say. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. It was the best he could do.
Draco didn’t seem to hear him. “There was no note, no apology. I never knew what he had been thinking. We had never been close, and we’d grown further apart after the war. I didn’t sleep for four days after finding him. But it nearly destroyed Mother. She had a-a breakdown of sorts, not long after. The Healers said it likely contributed to her early death. She was always quieter, a little sadder about everything, after that. She didn’t even go into her garden as much. When she fell ill, they said it was just the stress and guilt catching up with her. Even now, it’s still hard to believe he left us like that.”
“I’m sure he thought it was his only option,” Harry tried, barely believing that he was trying to defend Lucius Malfoy, of all people.
“I don’t care!” Draco spat, emotion rearing up from where he’d had it hidden. “It was selfish, and true to form. I don’t care how miserable he was-so were we! All he ever thought about was himself. That was true his entire life. If he hadn’t been so obsessed with how to make things easier for himself, he never would have followed that lunatic! He thought it the fastest, easiest way to gain power and respect-and fear, which was close enough to respect for him. He didn’t think about us, and what it might do to us. He didn’t think about what it would do to Mother. She was never the same after that. And it wasn’t until that night that I even thought about doing it myself!” He froze, only lifting his eyes to Harry’s. He hadn’t meant to admit to that, Harry was sure.
“You thought about it?” He now recalled a bit of conversation from the night they had met up with Pansy and her date. Because if all Muggles behaved that way, I probably wouldn’t be here. Or anywhere.
“Yes, Harry. I thought about it,” Draco said quietly. “Quite a lot. But unlike my father, I tried not to be selfish. I knew what it would do to my mother. And so I decided against it, for the time being. I figured I could always re-evaluate after her death. At that point, there would be nothing and no one keeping me from it.”
Knowing that Draco had been so logical, in his own way, about taking his own life made Harry feel sick. He had run into Draco not long before Narcissa had passed away. And thinking back to the day he had come to offer his condolences, he thought he could see a little of the loneliness, the misery and the desperation to escape it, that might cause someone to consider it as an option. He looked Draco straight in the eye and spoke firmly. “I don’t know what caused you to decide not to do it at that point, but I cannot express how glad I am that you didn’t. Whether it was your job, or friends, or simply the fact that you were coping, the result is the same. My life wouldn’t be the same without you. And what’s saddest is that had you done it, I really wouldn’t know what I was missing.”
Draco sighed. “You’ve never been that eloquent before.” There was just the slightest smile underneath those words. “I’m actually impressed.”
Harry grinned at him in an attempt to lighten the mood just a little. “It happens now and then. Just don’t expect it often.”
This time, Draco did smile back. “I know better than that. And I’ve never told you, and I had never planned to tell you, but I think part of that decision was made the day you found me in the garden. It showed that someone did care, that my mother wasn’t the only one who would notice my absence. It was such a little gesture, but sometimes those are the most important.”
Something like fireworks went off in Harry’s head. Hermione had said something about the little things making all the difference, back when he and Draco had been apart. And Pansy had asked him to make sure to show Draco how important he was. An idea bloomed within him, some gesture that might mean a lot to Draco. It was only something small, but he had the feeling it was just right. And if he was lucky enough, maybe he would even get something he wanted very much out of it. He needed to make a call, see if he could get the assistance he needed to pull it off properly. And he couldn’t let Draco know. It had to be a surprise. “I think you’re right about that. Why don’t you take a few moments to yourself? I’ll finish up in here. Is there anything you might want?”
“No, I don’t think so. And thank you, Harry. Really.”
Harry nodded and shooed him out the door. “Don’t mention it.” His mind was racing with his new plan. He would have to act quickly. As soon as he had a moment alone, he would make that Floo call. He thought about it as he packed everything up to donate. The Malfoy library was quite extraordinary, and he thought of how upset Hermione might be if she knew someone was giving up a collection like this. He set aside a few volumes; he would ask Draco if he minded if he gave them to her as a gift, just in case. Another little gesture. He had always been lousy at them, especially at giving gifts. But if Draco was changing so much for the better, then he could stand to improve himself a bit, too. He was already doing much better at reading Draco’s unspoken messages, beyond just his kisses. And he could even play nice with Pansy. That right there was an enormous step.
When the room was packed up not quite two hours later, Harry found Draco where he knew he would-sitting on the lip of the fountain, in the middle of the garden. Draco was facing away from the stone path, but he shifted minutely when Harry approached.
“Hey,” Draco greeted him without turning. His blond hair fluttered in the breeze. “All done?”
“As far as I can tell,” Harry said softly, sitting on Draco’s left. This really was a beautiful garden, though there were bits of it that were starting to look overgrown. In some places, the untamed appearance was nice. It reminded him of how his favourite look on Draco was not the perfectly polished one he wore out in public, but the more natural look Harry got to see in private, the one that was soft in some moments and bright with passion and wildness in others. “All set to hand over to the woman from the orphanage next week. I was thinking… Did you want me to handle it? We could change the wards just a little, and I could come back here to finalise it.”
Draco shook his head, and Harry began to wonder about the feasibility of his plan. “No. But thank you for offering. For all that you’ve done, really. We can reset the wards, in case something happens and I’ll be late getting off work that day. But I feel I should be there. There’s something very final about it, and I think I need that.”
Harry nodded. “Of course.”
They sat together a moment longer, and then Draco stood up with a sigh. “We should head back to your place. It’s getting late, and we both have to work in the morning.” He pulled out his wand murmured a spell. After a moment, the water in the fountain stopped flowing. Now that the sound of gently flowing water was absent, the place felt different. Lonely, as opposed to tranquil. “Come on.”
Harry followed Draco’s lead, shutting and latching doors and whispering spells, changing the wards as they went. Now Harry would be able to get in without Draco, should he need to. They might be planning on being back here Friday evening, but it seemed as if Draco was saying whatever goodbyes he needed to now. Harry’s heart ached a little for him. The one house he’d said goodbye to forever had been somewhere he had been nothing but miserable. He wouldn’t care a whit if the Dursley’s old house on Privet Drive went up in a blaze. But as much as Draco said he didn’t want this place, he obviously cared for it in some way. Harry thought it had to do with Draco’s parents-his mother, especially. It was one of the few remaining links he had to them. And now it was about to be severed.
~*~
Of all days to leave work late, this day was quite inconvenient. But there had been a new customer in, one who insisted on speaking with the buyer, wanting to argue about potency and be babied with every choice. And given how many hundreds of Galleons they had ended up spending, Terry Jigger had likely been justified in pulling Draco out of the back, where he was trying to finish up another round of inventory. But it still rankled Draco. He didn’t much enjoy coddling customers. At least this one hadn’t given him that cool look, the one that said he was recognised for what he was-what he used to be.
Glancing at his watch, he cursed under his breath and Apparated outside the gates to the Manor. He nearly Apparated directly onto Harry, who only laughed it off. The woman from the orphanage looked at him with raised eyebrows, but he thought she might be trying to keep in a giggle. “I apologise if I’ve kept you waiting,” Draco began, but she waved him off.
“Not at all, Mr Malfoy. Mr Potter here was kind enough to take me through a final walkthrough of the Manor, and the wards were changed as we went. But if you’d like to go through it once more, now that you’re here, I completely understand. You are the rightful owner.”
Draco shook his head. Harry had taken care of the part Draco least wanted to do, Merlin bless him. He really had come a long way in the past year. He still couldn’t give gifts worth a damn, but he picked up on unspoken sentiments much more than he ever used to. “That’s all right. I trust Harry to have done an adequate job.” He ignored Harry, who was standing behind Miss Allenworth. He’d stuck his tongue out over the woman’s shoulder at Draco’s use of the word ‘adequate’. “And I no longer wish to be the rightful owner. Let me sign the last of the documentation, and that can be corrected as well.” He tried to smile at her, but it was difficult.
The petite redheaded witch nodded and handed over a long piece of parchment. She reminded him of the Weasley girl in appearance, if in nothing else. “Once again, Mr Malfoy, we greatly appreciate this donation. Your Manor will make a brilliant place to hold gatherings and house the children. We just didn’t have the room at our other location. And here they can not only live and learn until they reach school age, but they can thrive. It truly is a beautiful place.”
Draco only half-heard her. The thought of the Manor being overrun with small children, laughing, playing, making noise, leaving fingerprints and shoeprints on all available surfaces, and possibly even breaking things made him tense for just a moment. And then he relaxed and smiled. Someone should be able to do those things in this place. Merlin knew he hadn’t. “Thank you.” He took the quill she had conjured and signed his name with a flourish. The letters glowed silver for a brief second before returning to the look of standard ink. That was it, then. The Manor was no longer his. “I’m glad you can put it to good use. Is there anything else you need, Miss Allenworth?”
“No. Thank you, Mr Malfoy. You know how to get hold of me, should you have any need.”
“Likewise. It was a pleasure doing business with you.” He stuck out his hand and she offered hers back. He and Harry wandered away from the gates, leaving the witch on her own, holding a briefcase and looking up the path with a smile. “You’re in an awfully good mood today,” Draco said, wishing he could share in the feeling.
“Am I?”
“Yes. All but dancing, it seems. What’s gone so well for you?”
“Nothing,” Harry told him, but Draco didn’t believe him for a second. “Just a good day at work, I suppose. And a fantastic lunch.” The smile faded from his face, replaced by a look of curiosity. “You had this odd look on your face a few moments ago, when she talked about how wonderful the Manor is. What were you thinking about?”
Draco let out a little laugh. “I was thinking I’ll likely be receiving calls from the people who maintain the family mausoleum.”
“Oh?” Harry’s eyebrows went up. “Why’s that?”
“I imagine that there will be some extra fees, given all the rolling my father will be doing in his grave. Children running around, being messy and loud in the Manor and all.”
Harry laughed and pulled Draco into an embrace. “Snarky git.”
“Love me or hate me, Potter, but it comes with the territory.”
Harry’s face lit up in amusement the way it always did these days when Draco called him ‘Potter’. It had been such a hard thing, calling him Harry, accepting that invitation into familiarity. Now it was second nature. But he still slipped back, especially when he was feeling mischievous or especially sarcastic. Old habits did indeed die hard.
“I know it does. And I’m not complaining. Just observing. Now what do you say we get out of here. I have something for you at home.”
“Your place?” Harry nodded. “Tell me it’s dinner, and not from that Indian takeaway place.”
“Not Indian food, I promise.”
“Then ready when you are.” He heard Harry Disapparate and followed suit. He popped into Harry’s kitchen, alone. There was no sign of dinner. “Harry?”
“In the living room,” came Harry’s call.
Draco wandered that way, wondering what Harry had in store for him after all. “What on earth is all this mess?” He had to step around large boxes to get to where Harry was standing.
“Just some of your stuff from the Manor.”
“Harry, I told you, I don’t-”
“I know what you told me, Draco. But there was some of this stuff that didn’t deserve to go into storage forever. It looks messier than it is. It’s just kind of tossed around for the moment. I was looking for something.”
“Going through my things?” Draco asked, making an effort to sound the way he had when they were younger, with that lazy, cocky drawl he had perfected.
“Well, as I’m the one who packed them, I didn’t think you’d mind.”
Draco trailed his hand over a photo album that was sitting atop the closest box. He knew this album. It had been his mother’s. Wedding photos. “Where did you find this?”
“In the study. You said not to keep anything, but I thought you were wrong. I saved a few things, in addition to the stuff I took for Hermione. She said thanks, by the way.”
“Tell her it was nothing. All you.”
Harry smirked a little. “I did. She doesn’t believe me. She knows I can’t give gifts to save my life.”
“Well, then I’ll have to re-educate her the next time I see her. Though you do have a track record, you know.”
Something crossed Harry’s face then, something that looked like a brief attack of nerves. “I know. But I was thinking I could work on that.”
“Hm.” Draco looked around, wondering how long these boxes would stay. Harry would likely be only too happy to leave them like this a while. If he didn’t want to put them with the other things in Draco’s storage, Draco supposed he could shrink them down and find room in his flat. Merlin knew there was little in the way or furnishings there. “So what is this thing you have for me? It’s obviously not dinner.”
Harry shifted and cleared his throat. “No. Not dinner.”
“Well, then?”
“Close your eyes, and I’ll show you.”
“Close my eyes?”
“Yeah. Or I could conjure a blindfold.”
“That won’t be necessary. I’ll keep them closed. I promise.” Harry had piqued his curiosity.
“All right. I’ll Apparate you there with me. That way I don’t walk you into a wall or anything.” Draco nodded, dutifully holding out his arm and closing his eyes tightly. Harry had said the surprise was here, at his place. Why would they need to Apparate? And why all the secrecy? He felt that odd feeling of being squeezed through a tube much too small to fit him and then he felt Harry steady him as they reached their secret location. Apparating with one’s eyes closed was quite disorienting. He felt a soft breeze and heard a bird trill overhead. They were outside. What the hell? “Open your eyes,” Harry whispered, his voice soft and nervous in Draco’s ear.
Draco opened his eyes slowly. And then they widened as they took in the sight all around him. Harry had taken them to the roof of Grimmauld Place. Draco had seen it once before, when they had come up here and he’d tried to show Harry some of the constellations his family was named after. Back then, it was simply an expanse of concrete, with a couple of folding chairs and one lone potted shrub in the corner. An old, broken broom had leaned against the wall, next to the door at the top of the stairs. This was a far cry from that.
Now the entire place was covered in greenery. There were vines around the walls, tendrils curling artfully over the ledges. There was a small bench in one corner, big enough for two to relax upon. And in the centre of the roof was a small pond with a fountain. Draco could see a handful of silver fish swimming slowly through the water. Atop the fountain’s pillar was a spray of white and yellow flowers-Narcissus flowers. Draco turned around to face Harry and saw that the back wall, where the broken broom had once laid, now was lined with several yellow rosebushes. Whatever words had been at the tip of his tongue melted away.
“Do you like it?” Harry asked, looking quite unsure of himself.
Of course he liked it. It was bloody beautiful. And it was the best bits of his mother’s garden. The fountain, the soothing sound of flowing water, the roses. And the Narcissus flowers. There oddly hadn’t been any of those in the garden at the Manor. “I don’t understand. Why?”
“It was obvious that the garden was the only part of the Manor you still cared for. And I didn’t want you to have to give that up. I did what I could here-admittedly, I had a lot of help from Neville. I’m just afraid it doesn’t live up to your-”
“You finish that sentence, Harry, and I’ll hex you so fast your head will spin.” Harry wisely shut his mouth while Draco tried to find words for what he was feeling. So this is what had Harry nervous. He wondered if Harry had been in such good spirits because he had managed to keep Draco from going through the Manor and seeing that the garden had been tampered with. No wonder he had asked the wards to be changed so he could get in without Draco.
As Draco looked around the garden again, he saw all the trouble Harry had gone through to get things right. With help in execution, yes, but he knew the idea had been all Harry’s. He took a deep breath and smiled softly. “I don’t like it; I love it. It’s a very moving gesture. I suppose I’ll be over here now more than ever, just to sit up here, if you don’t mind.”
Harry shifted from one foot to the other again, rubbing the back of his neck. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about that. What if you could come up here anytime you liked?”
“Can’t I already?”
“Yes, well, I didn’t mean that way. I meant, what if you could come up here in the middle of the night, or while I’m in the shower, or… What if you just lived here?”
Draco fought to keep the ridiculous and stunned look off his face. He spent significantly more time here than at his flat these days. And his place was simply a place to live, a residence. Harry’s place was much more than that. “You would want that?” It sounded too good to be true. And with the exception of the last few months, Draco had learned that those things were never true. But things with Harry were…different. He meant the things he said.
Harry looked at him so intensely that Draco almost took a step backward. “Yes. I would. I do. I’ve wanted it a long time.”
Trying to calm the feeling of dizziness and light that ran through his body, just knowing he was wanted, that he meant so much to Harry, Draco smiled. “Well, in that case, I don’t see how I can say no.” He knew this step was the right one. It was one more way to share himself with Harry, and for Harry to share with him. And no matter what else, Draco knew that this place, with this man, was home.
Author: khasael
Pairing: Harry/Draco (side Ron/Hermione, Bill/Fleur, Ginny/OC)
Rating: PG-13
Era: Approximately 10 years post-Hogwarts. Canon compliant through DH, but ignores the epilogue.
Word Count ~17,000
Beta: The fabulous hanelissar
Warning(s): (highlight to read)*angst, discussions of suicide, brief mention of past self-harm*
Summary: Draco struggles to leave the past in the past and figure out exactly what he wants. Harry works to attain what he is sure he wants.
Disclaimer: This piece of fiction is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made, no copyright or trademark infringement, or offence is intended. All characters depicted in sexual situations are above the age of consent.
Author’s Notes: Sequel to Newfound Light. Completes the Redemption arc.
Start with Part One
Harry wasn’t sure if he was going to forgive Draco for leaving him alone with Pansy. She had said they had things to discuss as their dates had wandered away, but they’d been alone nearly five minutes and she hadn’t said a word. Finally, Harry could take the silence no longer. “Is this someplace you like to come often?”
Pansy looked back at him, taking her eyes off the people dancing beyond the tables. “Hm? Oh. It’s a nice enough place, for this part of town. There’s a little club in Venice that’s much nicer, but I don’t get out that way often.”
Harry made a noise that he hoped sounded interested. He’d never been to Venice. And he wasn’t really one for clubs in any case. He had gone to a few after he broke up with Ginny, looking to enjoy himself, but the number of women (and even men) who had thrown themselves at him had unnerved him, and since then he had stuck to pubs and restaurants with his friends, finding the Muggle ones to be more relaxing. He tried to remember if he and Pansy had anything in common besides Draco. They had never gotten along in school. She had called for him to be handed over to Voldemort, though that certainly hadn’t gone over well for her. And none of the times they had met since had gone well. He decided to abandon the small talk. “You said we had things to talk about?”
“I did.” She chewed on her lower lip, wearing away the crimson lipstick she had applied for the evening. The look of concentration didn’t look at home on her face. No, that wasn’t it. It was the uncertainty. Slytherins had an arsenal of facial expressions, most of them involving some sort of superiority or derision, but uncertainty didn’t look right on them. He had seen enough of it during the last bit of the war and immediately after. He still saw it on Draco’s face now and then.
“Well?”
“Shut it, Potter, I’m thinking.”
Well, that was more like it. That was the Pansy Parkinson he knew. “Whenever you’re ready.” He was a bit proud of himself-his first instinct had been to retort with something closer to ‘don’t hurt yourself trying something new’. He wondered if Draco would be proud of him, too.
“It’s come to my attention, Potter,” she said at last, now worrying the chain around her neck in a distracted fashion, “that this thing you and Draco have isn’t some passing phase.”
“You worked that out, did you?” Harry said before catching himself. So much for Draco being proud of him. Well, he should have known better than the leave the two of them alone.
“Ignoring the rude comment, I’ll just say that even if it wasn’t obvious, he as much as told me himself.”
Harry was torn between revelling in the knowledge and wondering exactly what that meant. “As much as told you?” he said, hoping she knew what he meant by his emphasis.
“He didn’t say it directly. But to someone who’s known him since we were small children, he may as well have. He has made allusions that he likely hasn’t even realised. This isn’t some infatuation because of who you are or because he’s finally ready to start…living again. Whatever this is, it goes deep into him. There’s no cutting you out of his life. If you had any idea what that fight of yours early this year did to him…”
She didn’t continue, and Harry couldn’t help but think of the feral sneer she had given him when he and Hermione had run into Pansy and Draco in Fortescue’s ice cream parlour. When he looked at it properly, it reminded him of a lion protecting her cub. Harry didn’t think either Draco or Pansy would like the comparison. Too Gryffindor. He was distracted from his thought by the sight of someone approaching Draco at the bar. Some dark-haired man was leaning much too close to be casual. And then he put a hand on Draco’s arm. Harry’s blood pressure went up.
Pansy followed his gaze. “You don’t have to worry, you know.” They both watched as Draco said something with a smile. After a moment, the smile faded and Draco’s face went cold. It was the look he used to give Harry when they attended Hogwarts. Draco said something sharply and yanked his arm away, turning to Anton instead and shutting off the other man’s advances. “See? Whether you realise it or not, Potter, you’re exactly what Draco needs. Further, and more importantly, mind you, you’re what he wants.”
Harry looked away from the bar and into Pansy’s dark brown eyes. “It just so happens those things are reciprocated.”
“Glad to hear it. The last thing I want is him hurt again, especially when he’s so much like his old self these days. He may have kept me at arms length for a number of years after finally reappearing from self-imposed exile, but I would do anything for him. Including being nice to you.” She narrowed her eyes at Harry as he opened his mouth to ask if this was what she considered nice. “I’m trying, okay? I know it means a lot to him that we get along. And call me a sap, but I like seeing him happy.”
Harry decided against saying that he had never considered Pansy a sap, and wouldn’t be starting that now. “You’re not the only one.”
“Good. I know we’ve never gotten along, Potter, and I can’t say I’ll always be sweet, but we can put up with each other, right? You can’t tell me your friends immediately took to Draco. If they’re okay with your relationship in the first place. I have a hard time picturing Weasley being even remotely civil.”
“If you want us to get along, Pansy, you might want to cut the disrespect toward my friends. Maybe Draco isn’t who they saw me dating. But they’re polite and want to get to know him because-”
“Because you want them to,” Pansy finished for him. Harry had actually been about to say ‘because he makes me happy’.
“Close enough.”
“The boys are headed back, but I have one last thing for you,” she said, dropping her voice. “If you feel the way you say you do, then show it. Make sure he knows.”
Harry rather thought that the front page of The Prophet a few months ago made sure everyone knew, but he didn’t say that. Pansy probably meant something else by her comment anyway. “All right.”
Draco handed Harry a small glass of Firewhiskey and slid into the booth next to him as Anton did the same on the other side of the table. “I see you both remain unhexed. I knew you could behave.”
“Of course we did, Draco. Just a couple of peacekeepers. You know us,” Pansy said with a perfectly straight face. Damn Slytherins. Harry no longer put a lot of stock into some of the house stereotypes, but some people were the epitome of those traits.
For his part, Draco simply laughed. Harry loved that sound, which was sounding more and more natural and easier as time went on. “Indeed I do. Which is why I’m surprised neither of you drew your wand at the other.” He took a sip of his wine and placed his unoccupied hand lightly atop Harry’s left thigh. Moving his hand slowly as Anton told them about himself, Harry laced his fingers through Draco’s. He did want this. More than he could really make anyone understand.
~*~
“Harry?”
Harry looked up from the papers he had spread across the desk. He generally made it a point not to bring work home, but this was a favour for a friend of the Minister’s, and though he was getting paid, he wanted it over and done with. “What is it?” He made a face as he absentmindedly nibbled on the quill in his hand. Ink. Not a Sugar Quill.
“Chewing on your quill is a bad habit, Harry. As is working on your day off.”
“I know. But I want this finished.”
“Is that the investment project for the Minister’s friend?”
“Yes. Did you come to lecture me about work habits?”
Draco shrugged, looking suddenly smaller. He hadn’t moved from the doorway of Harry’s study. Harry wondered what time it was. He cast a quick Tempus in the silence. After midnight.
“I was just wondering when you were coming to bed. I wanted to talk to you about something.”
Harry managed a smile, though it felt stretched. He wanted to be back in bed with Draco. His bed felt right with the both of them in it, the warmth from their bodies removing the chill from the cool sheets. And though Draco never said anything, Harry thought he might sleep better when they slept together. The nightmares seemed to have gone, save for a few rare occasions, and it was uncommon now for Harry to wake up to find Draco staring out the window. “All right. Give me another twenty minutes. I just need to run a few more numbers. I’ll be there soon.”
With only a nod, Draco left the room, padding softly in bare feet. Whatever he had come to talk about, it had to be something unpleasant. He had shrunk in on himself. Finally satisfied with his work, Harry flicked his wand and sent the paperwork into his briefcase and trudged off to bed.
Draco lay there, facing toward the window. He was curled up under the covers, his arms around himself, and his breathing was deep and even. Harry felt guilty for making him wait long enough for him to have fallen asleep. Shedding his jumper and jeans, Harry slid carefully into bed, trying not to disturb the body next to him.
“Get everything finished?”
Harry jumped at Draco’s low, quiet voice. He hadn’t been sleeping at all. That meant he had been lying there, thinking about whatever had him so serious as he waited for Harry. “As finished as I can get them without checking a few last things at Gringotts. But I’m done with work for the weekend. I’m all yours until Monday.” He shifted and Draco rolled over, facing Harry in the dark. “What was it you wanted to talk about?”
Draco said nothing for several moments. Finally, when Harry’s mind began to drift enough that he realised how tired he really was, he spoke softly. “I’ve been thinking about finally getting rid of the Manor.”
Harry forced his eyes open. Draco was looking at him intently, face close to his. His eyes were silver in the moonlight. He wasn’t sure what to say. “Are you sure?”
“I am. I don’t think I’ll get what the house itself should be worth if I sold it, given its history with the war, but I don’t care. It’s not about the money. I have everything I need on my own, and money can’t buy a damned thing I want.” Harry thought that Draco’s father might roll over in his grave if he could hear his son eschew riches so forcefully. “After the Ministry took so much of what we had, I learned to value other things. I just want…” He trailed off, and Harry could feel the unhappiness in the air. “I just want it over and done with. Father’s been gone five years, Mother’s been gone for one. It’s been nine months since I last stepped foot in the Manor. Even if it doesn’t sell, I can’t bear to own it anymore. I’ll donate it to a charity. Pick one of your favourites. I know you care about that sort of thing.”
“Is that really what you want?”
“It is, Harry. I’ve been thinking it over for a long time. And I made the decision while visiting the family mausoleum to pay my respects to my mother. It seems right.”
Harry didn’t doubt that Draco wouldn’t be swayed from this decision. His voice was firm. On any other subject, Harry would have teased him about that stubborn tone. Instead he just drew Draco into his arms. “Then say the word, and I’ll help you pack up and get it ready. Tomorrow, if you want.”
A hint of a smile passed over Draco’s lips, gone before it had a chance to find a home. “You would do that?”
“I’d do that,” Harry assured him, their bodies melding together underneath the duvet. He would do a lot of things for Draco. Helping him achieve closure wasn’t even something he had to think about.
~*~
The work of packing up the Manor was tiring, but Draco knew it was more than just the act of putting things into boxes. This was the most emotionally draining thing he had done in a long time, and that was saying something. Packing up his old room was difficult, and though a lot of things went into storage, Draco had a strong feeling he would never pick them up again. Few of the memories were unsullied. Harry asked him over and over again if he was sure about some of the items he said should be donated. Neither of them even mentioned the cellar. Draco had been avoiding thinking about it as much as possible.
Even that wasn’t the worst of it. Draco tried to remain unemotional about the business at hand as much as he could. But when he got to his parents’ bedroom, he nearly lost the composure he had been able to keep. It was an easy enough decision to keep some of the Black family heirloom jewellery his mother had owned, and also simple enough to decide to donate both parents’ wardrobes. He had no use for all those expensive clothes. But when he came across his parents’ wedding bands… He had no idea how long he stared at them before Harry came up behind him. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Draco said softly. It was a lie, and they both knew it, but Harry didn’t call him out on it. His mother had taken to wearing his father’s wedding band on a chain around her neck after his death, a personal keepsake. And she had left both rings to him in her will, requesting not to be buried with them as he thought she would want. He had placed hers on the same chain the day after the funeral, not long before Harry had wandered in on him sitting in his mother’s garden. He hadn’t looked at them since.
Harry stood behind him and wrapped his arms around Draco’s shoulders and chest. “You’re keeping those.” After a moment, he let go with one arm and picked up the chain, slipping the jewellery into Draco’s pocket. “Anything else in here you want?”
Draco looked around at the remaining things. “Just that armoire. Everything else can be donated. Next room.”
“There’s only one room left,” Harry said, likely in an attempt to cheer him. Their work was almost done.
Draco didn’t need Harry to point that out. He knew exactly which room they had left. He had been avoiding it, same as he had been ignoring the existence of the cellar. But he had never told Harry about his feelings for the room, and he led Harry to it determined to close himself off to protect himself.
He entered his father’s study carefully. It was just a study. Bookshelves everywhere, books fastidiously organised. A fireplace that had been unused for five years now. And a large mahogany desk, the only item in the Manor that had a layer of dust on it. Neither he nor his mother had set foot in here, and they hadn’t even bothered with the dust-repelling charms. No one used this room anymore.
He didn’t even realise he was shaking until Harry took his hand. “What’s wrong?”
Draco closed his eyes to try to shut out the visions his memory had dredged up. It didn’t work. “This is where he did it. This is where my father killed himself.”
~*~
Harry felt something inside his chest tighten. He had known Draco’s father had committed suicide. But that was all Draco had ever told him. He didn’t even know it had happened at home. “Oh. I didn’t realise.”
“We kept it out of the papers, somehow.” Draco’s voice was distant, devoid of any real emotion. “So no one got to revel in the sordid details. But I was the one who found him. I came in one night to tell him Mother was asking when he might come to bed, and there he was, collapsed over the desk. It was poison. The empty bottle was on the floor. I don’t know what he used, I don’t want to know, but it left this horrific look of fear on his face. Maybe it was painful. Or maybe he saw what was waiting for him after this life.”
Harry had no idea what to say. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. It was the best he could do.
Draco didn’t seem to hear him. “There was no note, no apology. I never knew what he had been thinking. We had never been close, and we’d grown further apart after the war. I didn’t sleep for four days after finding him. But it nearly destroyed Mother. She had a-a breakdown of sorts, not long after. The Healers said it likely contributed to her early death. She was always quieter, a little sadder about everything, after that. She didn’t even go into her garden as much. When she fell ill, they said it was just the stress and guilt catching up with her. Even now, it’s still hard to believe he left us like that.”
“I’m sure he thought it was his only option,” Harry tried, barely believing that he was trying to defend Lucius Malfoy, of all people.
“I don’t care!” Draco spat, emotion rearing up from where he’d had it hidden. “It was selfish, and true to form. I don’t care how miserable he was-so were we! All he ever thought about was himself. That was true his entire life. If he hadn’t been so obsessed with how to make things easier for himself, he never would have followed that lunatic! He thought it the fastest, easiest way to gain power and respect-and fear, which was close enough to respect for him. He didn’t think about us, and what it might do to us. He didn’t think about what it would do to Mother. She was never the same after that. And it wasn’t until that night that I even thought about doing it myself!” He froze, only lifting his eyes to Harry’s. He hadn’t meant to admit to that, Harry was sure.
“You thought about it?” He now recalled a bit of conversation from the night they had met up with Pansy and her date. Because if all Muggles behaved that way, I probably wouldn’t be here. Or anywhere.
“Yes, Harry. I thought about it,” Draco said quietly. “Quite a lot. But unlike my father, I tried not to be selfish. I knew what it would do to my mother. And so I decided against it, for the time being. I figured I could always re-evaluate after her death. At that point, there would be nothing and no one keeping me from it.”
Knowing that Draco had been so logical, in his own way, about taking his own life made Harry feel sick. He had run into Draco not long before Narcissa had passed away. And thinking back to the day he had come to offer his condolences, he thought he could see a little of the loneliness, the misery and the desperation to escape it, that might cause someone to consider it as an option. He looked Draco straight in the eye and spoke firmly. “I don’t know what caused you to decide not to do it at that point, but I cannot express how glad I am that you didn’t. Whether it was your job, or friends, or simply the fact that you were coping, the result is the same. My life wouldn’t be the same without you. And what’s saddest is that had you done it, I really wouldn’t know what I was missing.”
Draco sighed. “You’ve never been that eloquent before.” There was just the slightest smile underneath those words. “I’m actually impressed.”
Harry grinned at him in an attempt to lighten the mood just a little. “It happens now and then. Just don’t expect it often.”
This time, Draco did smile back. “I know better than that. And I’ve never told you, and I had never planned to tell you, but I think part of that decision was made the day you found me in the garden. It showed that someone did care, that my mother wasn’t the only one who would notice my absence. It was such a little gesture, but sometimes those are the most important.”
Something like fireworks went off in Harry’s head. Hermione had said something about the little things making all the difference, back when he and Draco had been apart. And Pansy had asked him to make sure to show Draco how important he was. An idea bloomed within him, some gesture that might mean a lot to Draco. It was only something small, but he had the feeling it was just right. And if he was lucky enough, maybe he would even get something he wanted very much out of it. He needed to make a call, see if he could get the assistance he needed to pull it off properly. And he couldn’t let Draco know. It had to be a surprise. “I think you’re right about that. Why don’t you take a few moments to yourself? I’ll finish up in here. Is there anything you might want?”
“No, I don’t think so. And thank you, Harry. Really.”
Harry nodded and shooed him out the door. “Don’t mention it.” His mind was racing with his new plan. He would have to act quickly. As soon as he had a moment alone, he would make that Floo call. He thought about it as he packed everything up to donate. The Malfoy library was quite extraordinary, and he thought of how upset Hermione might be if she knew someone was giving up a collection like this. He set aside a few volumes; he would ask Draco if he minded if he gave them to her as a gift, just in case. Another little gesture. He had always been lousy at them, especially at giving gifts. But if Draco was changing so much for the better, then he could stand to improve himself a bit, too. He was already doing much better at reading Draco’s unspoken messages, beyond just his kisses. And he could even play nice with Pansy. That right there was an enormous step.
When the room was packed up not quite two hours later, Harry found Draco where he knew he would-sitting on the lip of the fountain, in the middle of the garden. Draco was facing away from the stone path, but he shifted minutely when Harry approached.
“Hey,” Draco greeted him without turning. His blond hair fluttered in the breeze. “All done?”
“As far as I can tell,” Harry said softly, sitting on Draco’s left. This really was a beautiful garden, though there were bits of it that were starting to look overgrown. In some places, the untamed appearance was nice. It reminded him of how his favourite look on Draco was not the perfectly polished one he wore out in public, but the more natural look Harry got to see in private, the one that was soft in some moments and bright with passion and wildness in others. “All set to hand over to the woman from the orphanage next week. I was thinking… Did you want me to handle it? We could change the wards just a little, and I could come back here to finalise it.”
Draco shook his head, and Harry began to wonder about the feasibility of his plan. “No. But thank you for offering. For all that you’ve done, really. We can reset the wards, in case something happens and I’ll be late getting off work that day. But I feel I should be there. There’s something very final about it, and I think I need that.”
Harry nodded. “Of course.”
They sat together a moment longer, and then Draco stood up with a sigh. “We should head back to your place. It’s getting late, and we both have to work in the morning.” He pulled out his wand murmured a spell. After a moment, the water in the fountain stopped flowing. Now that the sound of gently flowing water was absent, the place felt different. Lonely, as opposed to tranquil. “Come on.”
Harry followed Draco’s lead, shutting and latching doors and whispering spells, changing the wards as they went. Now Harry would be able to get in without Draco, should he need to. They might be planning on being back here Friday evening, but it seemed as if Draco was saying whatever goodbyes he needed to now. Harry’s heart ached a little for him. The one house he’d said goodbye to forever had been somewhere he had been nothing but miserable. He wouldn’t care a whit if the Dursley’s old house on Privet Drive went up in a blaze. But as much as Draco said he didn’t want this place, he obviously cared for it in some way. Harry thought it had to do with Draco’s parents-his mother, especially. It was one of the few remaining links he had to them. And now it was about to be severed.
~*~
Of all days to leave work late, this day was quite inconvenient. But there had been a new customer in, one who insisted on speaking with the buyer, wanting to argue about potency and be babied with every choice. And given how many hundreds of Galleons they had ended up spending, Terry Jigger had likely been justified in pulling Draco out of the back, where he was trying to finish up another round of inventory. But it still rankled Draco. He didn’t much enjoy coddling customers. At least this one hadn’t given him that cool look, the one that said he was recognised for what he was-what he used to be.
Glancing at his watch, he cursed under his breath and Apparated outside the gates to the Manor. He nearly Apparated directly onto Harry, who only laughed it off. The woman from the orphanage looked at him with raised eyebrows, but he thought she might be trying to keep in a giggle. “I apologise if I’ve kept you waiting,” Draco began, but she waved him off.
“Not at all, Mr Malfoy. Mr Potter here was kind enough to take me through a final walkthrough of the Manor, and the wards were changed as we went. But if you’d like to go through it once more, now that you’re here, I completely understand. You are the rightful owner.”
Draco shook his head. Harry had taken care of the part Draco least wanted to do, Merlin bless him. He really had come a long way in the past year. He still couldn’t give gifts worth a damn, but he picked up on unspoken sentiments much more than he ever used to. “That’s all right. I trust Harry to have done an adequate job.” He ignored Harry, who was standing behind Miss Allenworth. He’d stuck his tongue out over the woman’s shoulder at Draco’s use of the word ‘adequate’. “And I no longer wish to be the rightful owner. Let me sign the last of the documentation, and that can be corrected as well.” He tried to smile at her, but it was difficult.
The petite redheaded witch nodded and handed over a long piece of parchment. She reminded him of the Weasley girl in appearance, if in nothing else. “Once again, Mr Malfoy, we greatly appreciate this donation. Your Manor will make a brilliant place to hold gatherings and house the children. We just didn’t have the room at our other location. And here they can not only live and learn until they reach school age, but they can thrive. It truly is a beautiful place.”
Draco only half-heard her. The thought of the Manor being overrun with small children, laughing, playing, making noise, leaving fingerprints and shoeprints on all available surfaces, and possibly even breaking things made him tense for just a moment. And then he relaxed and smiled. Someone should be able to do those things in this place. Merlin knew he hadn’t. “Thank you.” He took the quill she had conjured and signed his name with a flourish. The letters glowed silver for a brief second before returning to the look of standard ink. That was it, then. The Manor was no longer his. “I’m glad you can put it to good use. Is there anything else you need, Miss Allenworth?”
“No. Thank you, Mr Malfoy. You know how to get hold of me, should you have any need.”
“Likewise. It was a pleasure doing business with you.” He stuck out his hand and she offered hers back. He and Harry wandered away from the gates, leaving the witch on her own, holding a briefcase and looking up the path with a smile. “You’re in an awfully good mood today,” Draco said, wishing he could share in the feeling.
“Am I?”
“Yes. All but dancing, it seems. What’s gone so well for you?”
“Nothing,” Harry told him, but Draco didn’t believe him for a second. “Just a good day at work, I suppose. And a fantastic lunch.” The smile faded from his face, replaced by a look of curiosity. “You had this odd look on your face a few moments ago, when she talked about how wonderful the Manor is. What were you thinking about?”
Draco let out a little laugh. “I was thinking I’ll likely be receiving calls from the people who maintain the family mausoleum.”
“Oh?” Harry’s eyebrows went up. “Why’s that?”
“I imagine that there will be some extra fees, given all the rolling my father will be doing in his grave. Children running around, being messy and loud in the Manor and all.”
Harry laughed and pulled Draco into an embrace. “Snarky git.”
“Love me or hate me, Potter, but it comes with the territory.”
Harry’s face lit up in amusement the way it always did these days when Draco called him ‘Potter’. It had been such a hard thing, calling him Harry, accepting that invitation into familiarity. Now it was second nature. But he still slipped back, especially when he was feeling mischievous or especially sarcastic. Old habits did indeed die hard.
“I know it does. And I’m not complaining. Just observing. Now what do you say we get out of here. I have something for you at home.”
“Your place?” Harry nodded. “Tell me it’s dinner, and not from that Indian takeaway place.”
“Not Indian food, I promise.”
“Then ready when you are.” He heard Harry Disapparate and followed suit. He popped into Harry’s kitchen, alone. There was no sign of dinner. “Harry?”
“In the living room,” came Harry’s call.
Draco wandered that way, wondering what Harry had in store for him after all. “What on earth is all this mess?” He had to step around large boxes to get to where Harry was standing.
“Just some of your stuff from the Manor.”
“Harry, I told you, I don’t-”
“I know what you told me, Draco. But there was some of this stuff that didn’t deserve to go into storage forever. It looks messier than it is. It’s just kind of tossed around for the moment. I was looking for something.”
“Going through my things?” Draco asked, making an effort to sound the way he had when they were younger, with that lazy, cocky drawl he had perfected.
“Well, as I’m the one who packed them, I didn’t think you’d mind.”
Draco trailed his hand over a photo album that was sitting atop the closest box. He knew this album. It had been his mother’s. Wedding photos. “Where did you find this?”
“In the study. You said not to keep anything, but I thought you were wrong. I saved a few things, in addition to the stuff I took for Hermione. She said thanks, by the way.”
“Tell her it was nothing. All you.”
Harry smirked a little. “I did. She doesn’t believe me. She knows I can’t give gifts to save my life.”
“Well, then I’ll have to re-educate her the next time I see her. Though you do have a track record, you know.”
Something crossed Harry’s face then, something that looked like a brief attack of nerves. “I know. But I was thinking I could work on that.”
“Hm.” Draco looked around, wondering how long these boxes would stay. Harry would likely be only too happy to leave them like this a while. If he didn’t want to put them with the other things in Draco’s storage, Draco supposed he could shrink them down and find room in his flat. Merlin knew there was little in the way or furnishings there. “So what is this thing you have for me? It’s obviously not dinner.”
Harry shifted and cleared his throat. “No. Not dinner.”
“Well, then?”
“Close your eyes, and I’ll show you.”
“Close my eyes?”
“Yeah. Or I could conjure a blindfold.”
“That won’t be necessary. I’ll keep them closed. I promise.” Harry had piqued his curiosity.
“All right. I’ll Apparate you there with me. That way I don’t walk you into a wall or anything.” Draco nodded, dutifully holding out his arm and closing his eyes tightly. Harry had said the surprise was here, at his place. Why would they need to Apparate? And why all the secrecy? He felt that odd feeling of being squeezed through a tube much too small to fit him and then he felt Harry steady him as they reached their secret location. Apparating with one’s eyes closed was quite disorienting. He felt a soft breeze and heard a bird trill overhead. They were outside. What the hell? “Open your eyes,” Harry whispered, his voice soft and nervous in Draco’s ear.
Draco opened his eyes slowly. And then they widened as they took in the sight all around him. Harry had taken them to the roof of Grimmauld Place. Draco had seen it once before, when they had come up here and he’d tried to show Harry some of the constellations his family was named after. Back then, it was simply an expanse of concrete, with a couple of folding chairs and one lone potted shrub in the corner. An old, broken broom had leaned against the wall, next to the door at the top of the stairs. This was a far cry from that.
Now the entire place was covered in greenery. There were vines around the walls, tendrils curling artfully over the ledges. There was a small bench in one corner, big enough for two to relax upon. And in the centre of the roof was a small pond with a fountain. Draco could see a handful of silver fish swimming slowly through the water. Atop the fountain’s pillar was a spray of white and yellow flowers-Narcissus flowers. Draco turned around to face Harry and saw that the back wall, where the broken broom had once laid, now was lined with several yellow rosebushes. Whatever words had been at the tip of his tongue melted away.
“Do you like it?” Harry asked, looking quite unsure of himself.
Of course he liked it. It was bloody beautiful. And it was the best bits of his mother’s garden. The fountain, the soothing sound of flowing water, the roses. And the Narcissus flowers. There oddly hadn’t been any of those in the garden at the Manor. “I don’t understand. Why?”
“It was obvious that the garden was the only part of the Manor you still cared for. And I didn’t want you to have to give that up. I did what I could here-admittedly, I had a lot of help from Neville. I’m just afraid it doesn’t live up to your-”
“You finish that sentence, Harry, and I’ll hex you so fast your head will spin.” Harry wisely shut his mouth while Draco tried to find words for what he was feeling. So this is what had Harry nervous. He wondered if Harry had been in such good spirits because he had managed to keep Draco from going through the Manor and seeing that the garden had been tampered with. No wonder he had asked the wards to be changed so he could get in without Draco.
As Draco looked around the garden again, he saw all the trouble Harry had gone through to get things right. With help in execution, yes, but he knew the idea had been all Harry’s. He took a deep breath and smiled softly. “I don’t like it; I love it. It’s a very moving gesture. I suppose I’ll be over here now more than ever, just to sit up here, if you don’t mind.”
Harry shifted from one foot to the other again, rubbing the back of his neck. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about that. What if you could come up here anytime you liked?”
“Can’t I already?”
“Yes, well, I didn’t mean that way. I meant, what if you could come up here in the middle of the night, or while I’m in the shower, or… What if you just lived here?”
Draco fought to keep the ridiculous and stunned look off his face. He spent significantly more time here than at his flat these days. And his place was simply a place to live, a residence. Harry’s place was much more than that. “You would want that?” It sounded too good to be true. And with the exception of the last few months, Draco had learned that those things were never true. But things with Harry were…different. He meant the things he said.
Harry looked at him so intensely that Draco almost took a step backward. “Yes. I would. I do. I’ve wanted it a long time.”
Trying to calm the feeling of dizziness and light that ran through his body, just knowing he was wanted, that he meant so much to Harry, Draco smiled. “Well, in that case, I don’t see how I can say no.” He knew this step was the right one. It was one more way to share himself with Harry, and for Harry to share with him. And no matter what else, Draco knew that this place, with this man, was home.