(no subject)
Written for the Slythindor100 Weekly Challenge with the following words: Pin, pale, soul, plebeian, mirror, pink, balloon, quill, random, plug, perilously, white, button, patch, ritual
Title: Healing
Author: kudra_23 (me! aka Kudra, Kudra23 and Kudra_007)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1625
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I charge nothing.
Summary: After the war, Draco hides out in Malfoy Manor and Harry doesn't like it
Harry Potter sat thoughtfully at his desk, running a hand through his disheveled ebony locks. Nodding decisively, he picked up his quill and wrote the following message to Draco Malfoy:
Malfoy,
I’m coming to visit tomorrow at half ten. Take your bloody wards down or I’ll be forced to break through them myself. You know I can.
Potter
Attaching the scroll to his snowy owl Hedwig, he instructed her to deliver it to Malfoy Manor. Satisfied, he moved to the bed to carry out his meditative evening ritual to clear his mind. The Dark Lord was dead, but the practice was soothing and helped to ward against the nightmares. He needed all the help he could get.
He awoke the following morning to the sound of a tawny owl tapping at his window. He let it in, and retrieved the scroll pinned to the strap around its left foot. Yawning, he directed the owl to a dish with water and owl treats as he unraveled the scroll.
Potter,
As you insist on inflicting your company on me against my will like the barbarian you are, I shall do the proper thing and take down my wards. Half ten, and don’t be a minute late.
Malfoy
Harry chuckled and left the parchment on his dresser as he headed for the shower. Remus wouldn’t be awake yet, as yesterday had been the full moon, so he had Grimmauld Place all to himself this morning. He plugged in the toaster and prepared scrambled eggs to go with his tea, sitting down to peruse the morning papers while he ate. Even six months after the final battle, he was still featured on every front page. What was it this time? Ah yes, ‘The Boy Who Lived goes to the grocer’s to buy bread and cheese: a perilous journey.’ Fascinating stuff, really.
Once he’d cleared up the dishes, he headed to his room to dress. Donning black, patched corduroys and an un-tucked blue button-down shirt, he took a cursory glance in the mirror, ran a hand through his hair, and was ready to go. At precisely half ten, he Flooed to Malfoy Manor and came stumbling out of the fireplace with his usual lack of grace.
“How you ever managed to defeat a Dark Lord, I’ll never know,” Malfoy drawled. He was leaning casually against the opposite wall, dressed in full Wizarding regalia.
“Malfoy,” Harry greeted, glancing around curiously. He’d heard so much about this place over the years, but he’d never been here.
Malfoy eyed him up and down critically. “Must you always wear such plebeian apparel?”
Harry blinked. “Must you always wear such a large stick up your arse?”
Turning on his heel to move down a long corridor, Malfoy murmured, “One comes free every generation with the Malfoy Crest.”
“Right then,” Harry said with a chuckle. “I guess there’s no bucking tradition.”
Leading him through a veritable maze of corridors, Malfoy replied, “You seem to buck tradition at every opportunity, Potter. Your ancestors must be rolling in their graves.”
Harry stuck his tongue out at Malfoy’s back. “I think your ancestors have more cause to be rolling in their graves than mine,” he pointed out, referring to Malfoy’s radical defection from his destined fate after sixth year.
Malfoy turned his head to level Harry with a worthy sneer. “Honestly, Potter, you live in the House of Black with a werewolf. You’ve learned nothing of your family ancestry and traditions, you don’t even wear the Potter crest, and you spend your fortune lobbying for the rights of magical creatures.”
“It’s better than wrapping myself in family regalia and hiding from the world,” Harry snapped.
“You really are most uncouth and rude,” Draco drawled defensively. “Tell me, why are you here if you find my pursuits so offensive?”
Harry chuckled, reminding himself that Malfoy would never be anything but prickly, despite his intelligence and allegiances. “Because I find your pursuits so offensive,” he explained. “Incidentally, does your manor have vanishing staircases and random secret corridors like Hogwarts?”
Malfoy stopped and eyed him warily, looking paler than usual. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Well, it feels… sentient,” Harry murmured, moving in a full circle with his eyes closed, reaching out with his magical core to touch the soul of the manor.
Malfoy sighed. “Only you, Potter,” he said disdainfully. “The manor behaves while guests are about; you shouldn’t have been able to feel it.”
“Oh,” Harry muttered. “Sorry.”
Turning once more to lead him to their destination, Malfoy said, “I should have guessed, what with you being freakish by nature.”
Harry bristled.
“Oh,” Malfoy muttered. “Sorry. I forgot how much you despise that word.”
Running an agitated hand through his hair, Harry couldn’t help but wonder what he’d gotten himself into. “Coming from you, it’s almost a compliment.”
They finally reached their destination, which turned out to be a beautiful sitting room at the back of the manor, overlooking a vast spread of gardens. Malfoy showed Harry to his seat and clapped his hands. Instantly, a house-elf appeared, looking eager to please.
“Nibby, I’ll need tea for myself and my… guest,” Malfoy ordered.
Harry looked out over the gardens, fascinated. “It’s so beautiful,” he murmured, eyes wide with awe. There were brilliant swathes of pink, red, purple, blue, orange, white and gold arrayed in breathtaking patterns across a wide, terraced expanse. It seemed never-ending, leading all the way into the forest beyond.
“There’s a maze,” Malfoy said, sitting primly in the chair opposite Harry. “The gardens are part of the manor. They change.”
Harry shuddered, thinking that he’d never want to be in another maze in his life. “What happens if you get lost?”
Malfoy eyed him mildly, looking nearly contrite for having mentioned the maze. “If you’ve Malfoy blood, you can touch one of your palms to the magical stones scattered throughout, and a silver light will guide you to the end. If you’re not of Malfoy blood, your best chance is to shoot up sparks with your wand and hope someone sees.”
Nibby interrupted them, setting a tray with teacups, saucers, and a plate of scones on the table between them. She quickly poured tea into the two cups and waited for further instruction.
“You may go, Nibby, thank you,” Malfoy said. He met Harry’s eyes. “Cream and sugar, correct?”
Harry smiled. “Yes, thanks.” He accepted the cup of tea and took a sip. “This is really good.”
“Malfoys always have the best.”
“Of course.”
Malfoy eyed him warily over his teacup. “Why are you here, Potter? Did you miss me that much?”
“Well, yes, actually,” Harry replied candidly.
Looking surprised, Malfoy drawled, “We were never best mates, even during the war.”
“I think we got on well enough.” Green eyes locked with gray. “It’s been three months since the trial, and no one’s seen you in all that time. You won’t answer my owls, not to mention Blaise’s and Pansy’s, and you’ve set your wards so tight it’d take Voldemort to get past them.”
Malfoy raised a brow. “Or you, as you so tactfully pointed out in your owl.”
Harry looked remorseful. “Well, if you’d responded to any of my owls, I wouldn’t have had to take such drastic action.”
“Why do you care how I spend my days?” Malfoy scowled peevishly. “The war’s over, I did my part, and you’ve no reason to express concern for me any longer.”
Harry leapt to his feet, pacing angrily back in forth in front of the window. “That’s bloody bollocks, Malfoy, and you know it. I’m not concerned for you because of the bleeding war or because of my wretched ‘saving people’ thing.” He stopped and met Malfoy’s eyes. “I’m here because you’ve been in my life from day one, whether we were at each other’s throats or fighting side by side, bickering all the while. And suddenly you’re gone and nothing’s right anymore.” He sighed, losing steam. “I can’t be me out there with you in here.”
Malfoy stared at him with wide eyes. “Potter…”
Harry started to pace again. “So I’ve decided. Either you come out, or I’m coming in to wither away with you.”
“No one wants me out there,” Malfoy said softly. “Despite my part in the war, and despite you testifying on my behalf at the trial. The world’s changed, and people don’t want a reminder of what was. I’m the son of the most prominent Death Eater in Voldemort’s brigade. They don’t see me, they see Lucius.”
“Who the fuck cares?” Harry demanded. “You’re Draco bloody Malfoy, and you’re going to let a pack of ungrateful witches and wizards determine your life? Half the wizarding world thinks I’m bloody Merlin, and the other half thinks I’m the next Dark Lord.” He took a breath. “But I deal with it, and you’re even stronger than me; you always have been. Why are you letting this break you?”
Malfoy stood, infuriated. “I don’t know how to be out there, Potter. My entire world has crumbled to dust, and all I’m left with is this sodding empty manor and a worthless, broken dynasty. I single-handedly destroyed the Malfoy legacy, and now the only one left is me, the blood-traitor. I have nothing.”
Harry took a determined step forward. “You have me.” He grabbed Malfoy by his perfect robes and pressed their lips together wildly, taking advantage of Malfoy’s gasp to deepen the kiss. Wrapping his arms around him fiercely, he murmured, “You’ll always have me.”
Malfoy stood stiffly for several long moments before giving in and relaxing in Harry’s arms. “Potter,” he whispered against Harry’s ear.
“Harry.”
“Harry.”
Something like joy ballooned in Harry’s chest. Pulling away, he took Draco’s hand. “Show me your gardens?”
Draco smiled.