H/D Fic: Beyond the Pale (15/14)
Title: Beyond The Pale (15/14)
Author: m_jadis
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: H/D
Summary: Postwar. With less than 130 days left on his sentence, the velvet-lined walls of Draco Malfoy’s prison begin tumbling down, revealing closely guarded secrets and unspoken truths.
Disclaimer: Anything profitable belongs to J.K.
A/N: Spoilers for HBP. ConCrit appreciated!
Special thanks to l_morgan and imkalena for a cursory read through. I procrastinated until everyone was busy partying on the 4th. So all the errors are mine.
This story has been cross-posted shamelessly.
This is an epilogue I promised back in March. Sorry for the delay!
Previous Chapter
Epilogue
Day 14 of Freedom, 9 am
Harry glanced around the shabby office. It was less furnished and hospitable than the disused classrooms he, Ron and Hermione sometimes stumbled into back at Hogwarts. His breath hitched for a moment before he brutally shoved away the pang of regret he felt for their lost childhood. Today was going to be difficult enough, no need for maudlin reminiscing.
Draco, catching his mood shift, looked up at him, a question written in his eyes. Harry swallowed, and gave a quick shake of his head. Not here in front of the medi-witch. Given what they had to do this afternoon, maybe not ever.
This was their second visit to St. Mungo’s upon order of the The Wizengamot. They’d insisted that Draco continue physical check ups to ensure there were no lingering after effects from Ron’s beatings. Harry fidgeted, nervous as the Medi-witch read the file. He’d hated any visit to the surgeon as a child. St. Mungo’s was no better, and he’d managed to make himself scarce during the last examination. His gaze strayed longingly toward the door. “Shall I - you know - step outside during the exam?”
Draco latched onto his hand with incredible strength. “Oh no you don’t!” he fairly hissed. “Don’t you dare leave me alone with her!”
Eyeing the young medi-witch, Harry’s brow knit. “Uhm, why not?” She looked harmless enough.
Leaning in closer, Draco whispered. “Have you gone mad? I’ve had death threats since we made the front page of the Daily Prophet two weeks ago.”
“ And that would be different from any other day, how?” Harry responded, flinching even before Draco smacked his arm. “Okay, okay. Kidding.” Draco was so easy to wind up. Smiling down at his lover, he desperately wished they were alone.
Draco mock-frowned. “Don’t try to get around me by looking at me that way, Potter.”
The rush of blood to his cock and face shouldn’t have surprised Harry at all. He loved it when Draco called him ‘Potter.’ Almost purring, he leaned in, his upper body subtly rubbing against Draco’s.
The witch “hmmphed” rattling the file in front of her.
Okay, maybe not so subtly after all.
“See what I mean?” Draco’s tone was quiet but triumphant. “Leave me alone with that witch and she’ll probably hex me six different ways to Sunday.”
Judiciously choking back a laugh, Harry glanced down at the indignant man next to him. “Why would she do that exactly? Oath to heal and all that, darling?”
“Don’t ‘darling’ me, either,” Draco whispered. “I’m telling you. Ever since I took the wizarding world’s poster boy off the market, I’ve been getting death threats!”
Harry brightened. “Really?” He preened, stretching his neck toward the dirty window, frowning that it marred his reflection, but smoothing an errant lock of hair nonetheless. “How flattering.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Of all the! I really don’t think strengthening this bond is a good idea, you know.” His eyebrow swept up into his fringe. “You are already insufferable. Any more infusion of ‘Malfoy Modesty’ might just do me in.”
Chortling full on now, Harry pulled away. “You’re joking, right? I’m just getting you back for all the years I’ve had to put up with your particular brand of ‘modesty’ as you call it.”
He turned to the witch who had been attempting to maintain some decorum. “When we redirect the bond, we’ll both be getting more of the other one’s emotions and attributes bleeding over, yes?”
“You will.” Her frown deepened considerably.
“How difficult will it be to control?” Harry enquired.
She looked from one to the other and then back to Harry. “You’ll be meeting with a healer weekly, to help you adjust.” If possible, her expression grew even grimmer. “Bonds of these type aren’t done these days. It will take time and effort to learn to control the flow between you. You’ll need to practice.” She paused, and then looked down her nose at them. “Perhaps more than others.”
“Pardon?” Draco’s entire body strained forward. Harry caught him lightly by the wrist.
Shaking him off like a bit of dung on his shoe, Draco’s voice grew louder. “What does that mean?”
She turned to him, and sniffed. “Your exploits - both of you - are well known. You both have strong…personalities.”
Harry hid his chuckle behind a cough, and Draco snorted like an impatient racehorse.
She continued, her voice dripping with scorn. “It will be a challenge.”
Now Harry’s own chin rose in defiance: how dare she? He put his arm around Draco, pulling him close. “We’ve overcome far more insurmountable challenges - both of us.”
For once, Draco didn’t seem to mind Harry’s possessive posturing. He was all Malfoy when he spoke. “If you will, please: perform the necessary tests and then let’s get this bond strengthened, shall we?”
4pm
Harry had just seen Draco off home. The testimony they’d had to re-give regarding the injuries sustained by Draco at Ron’s inquiry had been grueling. For both of them. While Harry wanted nothing more than to follow Draco through the floo home, where they could hide out for a few days, preferably doing nothing that required them to leave their bedroom, Harry’s heart was heavy. There was one last thing he needed to do.
Harry let himself into the anteroom outside the courtroom. The guard on duty nodded with a quick jerk of his head as he moved aside.
Ron looked up from where he sat, slumped on the hardwood chair.
The room was damp, uncomfortable. Harry suppressed a shiver, and thought about what the magically induced cold said about the people who were in charge of those under investigation.
“Did you come here to save me too?” Ron sneered.
Forcing himself to remain calm, Harry slid into the chair across the rough-hewn table from the man who had been his best friend since childhood. He chose his words carefully. “I came down to testify on your behalf, yes.” He clenched his fists under the table.
Ron eyed Harry, disgust written on every line of his face. “I’m surprised.” Ron snorted. “Cause some marital strife at home, I hope?”
Harry felt his fingernails biting into his palms. He imagined there would be blood before he was through here. “Draco - ” he paused, letting his partner’s name linger in the air. “Draco trusts me to make my own decisions, besides, he understood - ”
“ - oh he understood, did he?” Ron’s voice dripped sarcasm. “How wonderful for you, Harry. Everything always works out for you, doesn’t it?”
Harry’s breathing hitched, and he felt his magic beginning to rise. Since Draco had been teaching him how to perform wandless magic, he’d been caught unawares at the flood of power several times, harking back to that summer he’d blown up Aunt Marge. The torches flickered and flared, threatening to go out all together. A hot breeze swept through the room, ruffling both their hair and their robes. Now would not be the time to lose his temper.
Ron’s eyes flew open, wide with fear. He pushed back into his chair. “I heard about the bloody display you two put on: him handing his wand over to you, doors slamming open with just a twitch of his hand. What did he do to you?”
“Nothing I didn’t want to happen,” Harry responded. He hoped Ron caught the warning in his tone. He’d be damned if he’d talk about Draco to Ron.
An uncomfortable silence hung between them as the torches righted themselves, and the room temperature returned to damp clamminess.
Finally Ron broke the quiet. “Don’t do me any favors now, Potter. You pick a helluva time to turn up. Where the hell have you been for the last 5 years, Mate?” Ron was breathing heavy, fists clenched on the table in front of him. “You’re the fucking poster boy for all things conspicuous consumption! You bloody turned into Draco Malfoy to the power of ten!”
The blow of Ron’s words stunned Harry. Where had this come from? He forced himself to remain calm as Ron continued gathering steam.
“You left me behind! Drinking and carousing with the likes of Dean and his model pretty friends! We took you in when you had nobody!” He gestured wildly at Harry. “I bet that set of robes cost more than a year of my wages!”
Ron was on a roll now.“You’re the bloody seeker for Chudley! You didn’t even like that team until I introduced you to them!”
‘Guest Seeker’, Harry thought to himself, but doubted Ron would see the distinction.
Anger flashed in Harry and as Ron drew a breath, Harry lashed out, slamming his fist on the table. “Cut through the bullshit! Am I to believe that you knocked the shit out of Draco because I run with a glossy crowd or have been on the cover of Witch’s Weekly more times than I can count?”
Images of Draco’s bruised flesh flashed in his mind, and Harry saw red. Acid flowed in his tone and the torches dipped dangerously. He slammed his fist down again, and sparks flew from the battered tabletop. “You knocked the shit out of a defenseless man over and over.” He deliberately paused for a beat. “Did that make you a man, Ron?”
“Who the hell are you to talk about being a man?” Ron roared back. They were suddenly centimeters apart as Ron lunged across the table. “Does buggering Draco Malfoy make you a man?” He broke off, breathing heavily, face beet red.
They glared at each other, each fighting for control.
Ron fell down into his chair. “How did he do it?” he asked. “How did he turn my best friend into a flaming fairy? You’ve always liked women! Always!” He drew a sharp breath. “Why Draco Malfoy? Merlin! You could have anybody you ever wanted, Harry? Anyone! Anyone.”
Harry felt his heart beating wildly in his chest, and could hear Ron’s labored breathing from across the too small table. “Anyone! Anyone,” echoed in Harry’s head. He was missing something. He could almost reach out pluck it from the air between them. What the hell was it? Looking up he saw misery etched on Ron’s face, his eyes filled with tears. Tears?
Their eyes locked. Truth spilled out, unspoken. Breathing shallowly, Harry pushed back in his chair. His mouth forming a soundless ‘O’.
He thought back to all the things boys get up to in the dorm or locker rooms. He’d never had any indication that it was more to Ron than just boys messing around. Shaking off the memory, he returned to the present. “Ron - I,”
“Don’t you dare!” Ron’s voice broke. “I mean it, Harry. Don’t you dare apologize for - please, just don’t.” He looked around, his gaze wild as he seemed to be searching for some escape. Anything to keep from looking at Harry.
Harry stood up abruptly, shoving the chair back so hard it cracked like a shot as it hit the wall behind him. Images of the early years of their friendship spun dizzily in his head: Ron teaching him about Chocolate Frogs; his first Christmas at Hogwarts when he’d received the first ever gifts of his life: a sweater knitted by Mrs. Weasley, his father’s invisibility cloak. Ron sacrificing himself on the chess board in their quest to protect the Sorcerer’s Stone. Harry felt his eyes burn, and he swallowed over the lump in his throat.
Harry had spent many hours over the last few weeks trying to understand how Ron could have changed so completely from the warm little boy he’d met so many years ago. While he could sympathize that the war had changed his once best friend, Harry couldn’t forget the purple and swollen bruises on Draco’s chest, his broken ribs.
They’d all made choices: some good, some bad. Harry steeled himself for what he had to say. “I can never repay all the things you and your family did for me, Ron.” He stopped, and his throat worked helplessly for a moment. “But I will not live without Draco. We are bound. Nothing is ever going to change that.” Harry felt his eyes fill, and damned his own idiocy. “After what you’ve done - I don’t think.” He broke off. “No matter what your reasons, you need help.”
Ron’s head dropped to his chest. “I’m sorry, Harry. I know. I’m sorry.” He looked up, eyes brimming with emotion.
Where once Harry might have felt sympathy for his friend’s bitterness and his losses, all he could see was the shadow of brutality in eyes that were all too reminiscent of Vernon Dursley. He heard the echo of Draco’s testimony ringing in his ears. He’d read the medical reports for fuck’s sake. “Good-bye Ron.”
Ron pressed his lips together, nodding his head. Resignation lined his face. He didn’t speak.
Harry refused to look back as he left the room, barely nodding at the guard as he walked outside. His eyes filled as he silently berated himself once again for his complicity in Draco’s suffering, and perhaps even in Ron’s. Unseeing, he walked straight into -
“Draco!” Harry’s hands came up reflexively to catch the other wizard as he blinked back the moisture in his eyes, and shook his head, trying to clear it. “What are you doing here?”
Draco was scrutinizing him. He spoke slowly. “I thought you might need a friendly face.” Draco looked over Harry’s shoulder toward the room he’d just exited. “Either way, I knew it wouldn’t be easy.”
Almost collapsing into his lover’s arms, he was shocked at the gratitude that he felt as his body seemed to drink in Draco’s magic. Clinging, he wasn’t surprised when he heard Draco utter a concealment charm, and felt the shimmer of magic surround them. He was silent for a moment, luxuriating in the strength of his partner. “I thought I put you in the floo,” he murmured into silken hair, his lips brushing that majestic neck. “You need to - ” Harry broke off his admonishment that Draco should be home when it suddenly struck him what he’d had said. “What do you mean ‘either way’?”
Draco gave him a level look.
Harry blinked. He couldn’t mean? “You didn’t think I’d choose him? Or even forgive him?!”
“It wouldn’t be the first time you chose him over me.”
Harry stared down into painfully wide silver eyes. Eyes that silently begged for yet feared his response. The voice was that of a hurt eleven year old and Harry wanted to simultaneously strangle and pull him even closer, promising ‘never again’.
Almost viciously, he dragged Draco closer, burying his face back in the platinum blond hair, inhaling in the spicy-chocolate scent of Draco that had already come to mean ‘home.’ He felt Draco relax. “I was wrong, Draco, all those years ago on the train,” Harry began. “I guess I couldn’t tell the wrong sort for myself.” He pulled back and looked into swimming silver eyes. “Still want the job?”
Draco sucked in a gulp of air, blinking rapidly. “I can help you there.” His voice was almost steady. He pulled back from Harry and extended his hand.
It wasn’t empty for long.
~fin (really this time)
Author: m_jadis
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: H/D
Summary: Postwar. With less than 130 days left on his sentence, the velvet-lined walls of Draco Malfoy’s prison begin tumbling down, revealing closely guarded secrets and unspoken truths.
Disclaimer: Anything profitable belongs to J.K.
A/N: Spoilers for HBP. ConCrit appreciated!
Special thanks to l_morgan and imkalena for a cursory read through. I procrastinated until everyone was busy partying on the 4th. So all the errors are mine.
This story has been cross-posted shamelessly.
This is an epilogue I promised back in March. Sorry for the delay!
Previous Chapter
Epilogue
Day 14 of Freedom, 9 am
Harry glanced around the shabby office. It was less furnished and hospitable than the disused classrooms he, Ron and Hermione sometimes stumbled into back at Hogwarts. His breath hitched for a moment before he brutally shoved away the pang of regret he felt for their lost childhood. Today was going to be difficult enough, no need for maudlin reminiscing.
Draco, catching his mood shift, looked up at him, a question written in his eyes. Harry swallowed, and gave a quick shake of his head. Not here in front of the medi-witch. Given what they had to do this afternoon, maybe not ever.
This was their second visit to St. Mungo’s upon order of the The Wizengamot. They’d insisted that Draco continue physical check ups to ensure there were no lingering after effects from Ron’s beatings. Harry fidgeted, nervous as the Medi-witch read the file. He’d hated any visit to the surgeon as a child. St. Mungo’s was no better, and he’d managed to make himself scarce during the last examination. His gaze strayed longingly toward the door. “Shall I - you know - step outside during the exam?”
Draco latched onto his hand with incredible strength. “Oh no you don’t!” he fairly hissed. “Don’t you dare leave me alone with her!”
Eyeing the young medi-witch, Harry’s brow knit. “Uhm, why not?” She looked harmless enough.
Leaning in closer, Draco whispered. “Have you gone mad? I’ve had death threats since we made the front page of the Daily Prophet two weeks ago.”
“ And that would be different from any other day, how?” Harry responded, flinching even before Draco smacked his arm. “Okay, okay. Kidding.” Draco was so easy to wind up. Smiling down at his lover, he desperately wished they were alone.
Draco mock-frowned. “Don’t try to get around me by looking at me that way, Potter.”
The rush of blood to his cock and face shouldn’t have surprised Harry at all. He loved it when Draco called him ‘Potter.’ Almost purring, he leaned in, his upper body subtly rubbing against Draco’s.
The witch “hmmphed” rattling the file in front of her.
Okay, maybe not so subtly after all.
“See what I mean?” Draco’s tone was quiet but triumphant. “Leave me alone with that witch and she’ll probably hex me six different ways to Sunday.”
Judiciously choking back a laugh, Harry glanced down at the indignant man next to him. “Why would she do that exactly? Oath to heal and all that, darling?”
“Don’t ‘darling’ me, either,” Draco whispered. “I’m telling you. Ever since I took the wizarding world’s poster boy off the market, I’ve been getting death threats!”
Harry brightened. “Really?” He preened, stretching his neck toward the dirty window, frowning that it marred his reflection, but smoothing an errant lock of hair nonetheless. “How flattering.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Of all the! I really don’t think strengthening this bond is a good idea, you know.” His eyebrow swept up into his fringe. “You are already insufferable. Any more infusion of ‘Malfoy Modesty’ might just do me in.”
Chortling full on now, Harry pulled away. “You’re joking, right? I’m just getting you back for all the years I’ve had to put up with your particular brand of ‘modesty’ as you call it.”
He turned to the witch who had been attempting to maintain some decorum. “When we redirect the bond, we’ll both be getting more of the other one’s emotions and attributes bleeding over, yes?”
“You will.” Her frown deepened considerably.
“How difficult will it be to control?” Harry enquired.
She looked from one to the other and then back to Harry. “You’ll be meeting with a healer weekly, to help you adjust.” If possible, her expression grew even grimmer. “Bonds of these type aren’t done these days. It will take time and effort to learn to control the flow between you. You’ll need to practice.” She paused, and then looked down her nose at them. “Perhaps more than others.”
“Pardon?” Draco’s entire body strained forward. Harry caught him lightly by the wrist.
Shaking him off like a bit of dung on his shoe, Draco’s voice grew louder. “What does that mean?”
She turned to him, and sniffed. “Your exploits - both of you - are well known. You both have strong…personalities.”
Harry hid his chuckle behind a cough, and Draco snorted like an impatient racehorse.
She continued, her voice dripping with scorn. “It will be a challenge.”
Now Harry’s own chin rose in defiance: how dare she? He put his arm around Draco, pulling him close. “We’ve overcome far more insurmountable challenges - both of us.”
For once, Draco didn’t seem to mind Harry’s possessive posturing. He was all Malfoy when he spoke. “If you will, please: perform the necessary tests and then let’s get this bond strengthened, shall we?”
4pm
Harry had just seen Draco off home. The testimony they’d had to re-give regarding the injuries sustained by Draco at Ron’s inquiry had been grueling. For both of them. While Harry wanted nothing more than to follow Draco through the floo home, where they could hide out for a few days, preferably doing nothing that required them to leave their bedroom, Harry’s heart was heavy. There was one last thing he needed to do.
Harry let himself into the anteroom outside the courtroom. The guard on duty nodded with a quick jerk of his head as he moved aside.
Ron looked up from where he sat, slumped on the hardwood chair.
The room was damp, uncomfortable. Harry suppressed a shiver, and thought about what the magically induced cold said about the people who were in charge of those under investigation.
“Did you come here to save me too?” Ron sneered.
Forcing himself to remain calm, Harry slid into the chair across the rough-hewn table from the man who had been his best friend since childhood. He chose his words carefully. “I came down to testify on your behalf, yes.” He clenched his fists under the table.
Ron eyed Harry, disgust written on every line of his face. “I’m surprised.” Ron snorted. “Cause some marital strife at home, I hope?”
Harry felt his fingernails biting into his palms. He imagined there would be blood before he was through here. “Draco - ” he paused, letting his partner’s name linger in the air. “Draco trusts me to make my own decisions, besides, he understood - ”
“ - oh he understood, did he?” Ron’s voice dripped sarcasm. “How wonderful for you, Harry. Everything always works out for you, doesn’t it?”
Harry’s breathing hitched, and he felt his magic beginning to rise. Since Draco had been teaching him how to perform wandless magic, he’d been caught unawares at the flood of power several times, harking back to that summer he’d blown up Aunt Marge. The torches flickered and flared, threatening to go out all together. A hot breeze swept through the room, ruffling both their hair and their robes. Now would not be the time to lose his temper.
Ron’s eyes flew open, wide with fear. He pushed back into his chair. “I heard about the bloody display you two put on: him handing his wand over to you, doors slamming open with just a twitch of his hand. What did he do to you?”
“Nothing I didn’t want to happen,” Harry responded. He hoped Ron caught the warning in his tone. He’d be damned if he’d talk about Draco to Ron.
An uncomfortable silence hung between them as the torches righted themselves, and the room temperature returned to damp clamminess.
Finally Ron broke the quiet. “Don’t do me any favors now, Potter. You pick a helluva time to turn up. Where the hell have you been for the last 5 years, Mate?” Ron was breathing heavy, fists clenched on the table in front of him. “You’re the fucking poster boy for all things conspicuous consumption! You bloody turned into Draco Malfoy to the power of ten!”
The blow of Ron’s words stunned Harry. Where had this come from? He forced himself to remain calm as Ron continued gathering steam.
“You left me behind! Drinking and carousing with the likes of Dean and his model pretty friends! We took you in when you had nobody!” He gestured wildly at Harry. “I bet that set of robes cost more than a year of my wages!”
Ron was on a roll now.“You’re the bloody seeker for Chudley! You didn’t even like that team until I introduced you to them!”
‘Guest Seeker’, Harry thought to himself, but doubted Ron would see the distinction.
Anger flashed in Harry and as Ron drew a breath, Harry lashed out, slamming his fist on the table. “Cut through the bullshit! Am I to believe that you knocked the shit out of Draco because I run with a glossy crowd or have been on the cover of Witch’s Weekly more times than I can count?”
Images of Draco’s bruised flesh flashed in his mind, and Harry saw red. Acid flowed in his tone and the torches dipped dangerously. He slammed his fist down again, and sparks flew from the battered tabletop. “You knocked the shit out of a defenseless man over and over.” He deliberately paused for a beat. “Did that make you a man, Ron?”
“Who the hell are you to talk about being a man?” Ron roared back. They were suddenly centimeters apart as Ron lunged across the table. “Does buggering Draco Malfoy make you a man?” He broke off, breathing heavily, face beet red.
They glared at each other, each fighting for control.
Ron fell down into his chair. “How did he do it?” he asked. “How did he turn my best friend into a flaming fairy? You’ve always liked women! Always!” He drew a sharp breath. “Why Draco Malfoy? Merlin! You could have anybody you ever wanted, Harry? Anyone! Anyone.”
Harry felt his heart beating wildly in his chest, and could hear Ron’s labored breathing from across the too small table. “Anyone! Anyone,” echoed in Harry’s head. He was missing something. He could almost reach out pluck it from the air between them. What the hell was it? Looking up he saw misery etched on Ron’s face, his eyes filled with tears. Tears?
Their eyes locked. Truth spilled out, unspoken. Breathing shallowly, Harry pushed back in his chair. His mouth forming a soundless ‘O’.
He thought back to all the things boys get up to in the dorm or locker rooms. He’d never had any indication that it was more to Ron than just boys messing around. Shaking off the memory, he returned to the present. “Ron - I,”
“Don’t you dare!” Ron’s voice broke. “I mean it, Harry. Don’t you dare apologize for - please, just don’t.” He looked around, his gaze wild as he seemed to be searching for some escape. Anything to keep from looking at Harry.
Harry stood up abruptly, shoving the chair back so hard it cracked like a shot as it hit the wall behind him. Images of the early years of their friendship spun dizzily in his head: Ron teaching him about Chocolate Frogs; his first Christmas at Hogwarts when he’d received the first ever gifts of his life: a sweater knitted by Mrs. Weasley, his father’s invisibility cloak. Ron sacrificing himself on the chess board in their quest to protect the Sorcerer’s Stone. Harry felt his eyes burn, and he swallowed over the lump in his throat.
Harry had spent many hours over the last few weeks trying to understand how Ron could have changed so completely from the warm little boy he’d met so many years ago. While he could sympathize that the war had changed his once best friend, Harry couldn’t forget the purple and swollen bruises on Draco’s chest, his broken ribs.
They’d all made choices: some good, some bad. Harry steeled himself for what he had to say. “I can never repay all the things you and your family did for me, Ron.” He stopped, and his throat worked helplessly for a moment. “But I will not live without Draco. We are bound. Nothing is ever going to change that.” Harry felt his eyes fill, and damned his own idiocy. “After what you’ve done - I don’t think.” He broke off. “No matter what your reasons, you need help.”
Ron’s head dropped to his chest. “I’m sorry, Harry. I know. I’m sorry.” He looked up, eyes brimming with emotion.
Where once Harry might have felt sympathy for his friend’s bitterness and his losses, all he could see was the shadow of brutality in eyes that were all too reminiscent of Vernon Dursley. He heard the echo of Draco’s testimony ringing in his ears. He’d read the medical reports for fuck’s sake. “Good-bye Ron.”
Ron pressed his lips together, nodding his head. Resignation lined his face. He didn’t speak.
Harry refused to look back as he left the room, barely nodding at the guard as he walked outside. His eyes filled as he silently berated himself once again for his complicity in Draco’s suffering, and perhaps even in Ron’s. Unseeing, he walked straight into -
“Draco!” Harry’s hands came up reflexively to catch the other wizard as he blinked back the moisture in his eyes, and shook his head, trying to clear it. “What are you doing here?”
Draco was scrutinizing him. He spoke slowly. “I thought you might need a friendly face.” Draco looked over Harry’s shoulder toward the room he’d just exited. “Either way, I knew it wouldn’t be easy.”
Almost collapsing into his lover’s arms, he was shocked at the gratitude that he felt as his body seemed to drink in Draco’s magic. Clinging, he wasn’t surprised when he heard Draco utter a concealment charm, and felt the shimmer of magic surround them. He was silent for a moment, luxuriating in the strength of his partner. “I thought I put you in the floo,” he murmured into silken hair, his lips brushing that majestic neck. “You need to - ” Harry broke off his admonishment that Draco should be home when it suddenly struck him what he’d had said. “What do you mean ‘either way’?”
Draco gave him a level look.
Harry blinked. He couldn’t mean? “You didn’t think I’d choose him? Or even forgive him?!”
“It wouldn’t be the first time you chose him over me.”
Harry stared down into painfully wide silver eyes. Eyes that silently begged for yet feared his response. The voice was that of a hurt eleven year old and Harry wanted to simultaneously strangle and pull him even closer, promising ‘never again’.
Almost viciously, he dragged Draco closer, burying his face back in the platinum blond hair, inhaling in the spicy-chocolate scent of Draco that had already come to mean ‘home.’ He felt Draco relax. “I was wrong, Draco, all those years ago on the train,” Harry began. “I guess I couldn’t tell the wrong sort for myself.” He pulled back and looked into swimming silver eyes. “Still want the job?”
Draco sucked in a gulp of air, blinking rapidly. “I can help you there.” His voice was almost steady. He pulled back from Harry and extended his hand.
It wasn’t empty for long.
~fin (really this time)