TTTB 2
Chapter Two: Past Bedtime
It was a fucking miracle that Harry Potter had lived to twenty-one. The man was an idiotic menace to the wizarding world and hands-down the most irritating person Draco had ever met.
He brought the lights up to full brightness with a murmured word.
"What do you think you're doing, Potter?"
The other man froze, shoulders hunching a bit, and then turned around slowly.
"Oh." He sounded even more clueless than normal. His eyes were too bright. "Hi, Malfoy."
"Hi? Hi! It is three o'clock in the morning, Potter. On a Tuesday," Draco said with disgust.
Potter opened his mouth, but Draco overrode him.
"I don't know what your habits were like when you lived alone." Potter tried to speak again, but Draco kept going, adding cuttingly, "Nor do I care. Though it may have escaped your notice, you are not living alone anymore, and you are taking care of a three-year-old child!"
"Shh," Potter hissed. "You'll wake him."
"Nice time to start caring," Draco sneered. "For your information, I know how to employ Silencing Charms."
Potter snapped to attention, turning for the stairs with too-hasty movements and grasping for the wall; it was abundantly clear-if it hadn't been clear already-that he was very drunk.
"You can't put a Silencing Charm on a kid! What if something's wrong! What if-"
"Shut up, Potter. You may be an idiot, but I assure you, I am not. The charm prevents him from hearing us, not us from hearing him."
Potter stood there, seeming frozen in place.
"Oh. Okay, then."
He wobbled back to the table, and Draco stood there, full of scorn, and seriously wondered why the Dark Lord wasn't ruling the entire world by now.
"Hey! I'm not an idiot."
Draco made a sound in the back of his throat at this absurdly belated declaration and wondered if the other man was getting stupider as he aged.
"You have responsibilities now," he reminded the other man sternly. Had he ever understood that? "I won't stand in the wings like some dutiful housewife and take care of everything while you're off gallivanting."
Potter blinked at him owlishly. His eyes were red and altogether bloodshot but still incredibly green; it was much easier to see now that he had finally stopped wearing those ridiculous spectacles.
"You'd make a crap wife, Malfoy."
With an effort, Draco resisted the urge to do something uncouth like hit his head against the kitchen table-or curse the Saviour of the Wizarding World into oblivion.
That was, unfortunately, a good way to end up in Azkaban.
Potter grinned suddenly and announced as though this were news, "You don't even have the right bits."
Draco's hand tightened on his wand. Maybe he could just curse the other man a little. He was so inebriated that there was every chance he wouldn't remember any of this in the morning.
"Well-spotted, Potter," Draco said acidly. "Since you are being even more nonsensical than normal and some of us have now had an inadequate night's sleep thanks to insensitive prats, we will resume this discussion tomorrow evening after work."
He pinned the other man with a stare. "So help me if you're not home immediately."
Potter was still staring at him as though Draco had ceased to speak English, and Draco suppressed a growl of frustration with supreme effort.
"I trust you can find your way to your bed without breaking your neck."
Self-control in fine shreds, Draco marched up the stairs to his room, bitter once more about the fact that he was on the first floor. It meant that even though he'd brought that ridiculous conversation to a close, he was going to have to listen to the other man stumble two floors above him to get to his room.
He changed into his sleepwear, performed his evening ablutions perfunctorily, and crawled into bed.
He needed to sleep, and he knew it, but he was really too angry to make it likely that he could accomplish it.
He closed his eyes resolutely. He needed to be up in three hours. Perhaps three and a half if he rushed in the morning, which was something he hated doing, but being exhausted at work was a good way to accidentally blow a hole in the space-time continuum-or at least wind up with the crappy shifts.
He let out a breath and pulled his Occlumency lessons to the forefront of his mind. There might not be a lot of Legilimens around, but Draco Shielded anyway. It made him an asset at the Department of Mysteries-and it meant that when he couldn't sleep he was much better at clearing his mind than the average person.
He was having trouble with it tonight, though, and he realised that he was still on edge just waiting for the sounds of Potter stumbling up the stairs.
He was keeping himself awake waiting for the other man to keep him awake. Draco didn't need anyone to tell him that this was dysfunctional behaviour.
He stopped trying to deny that he was waiting for the other man, and as the time ticked on, he felt something that he told himself was not concern edging in with the annoyance.
What in the name of all that was magical was the other man doing down there? Had he decided to make breakfast and was about to light the house on fire? Had fallen really quietly and broken his neck? Passed out in a pool of his own vomit?
Bugger.
Draco padded back downstairs to find the ground floor dark. Draco frowned. There was no way that he'd missed the other man climbing drunkenly up to the third floor.
He found the other man in the library, snoring on his back on the couch.
Draco stood for a long moment, staring down at the other man with a frown.
Had he really decided that it was too much work to get up the stairs? He was a runt, so he fit on the couch much better than Draco would have done, but it still couldn't have been nearly as comfortable as his bed.
He seriously deserved to be left like this for being a completely inconsiderate asshole, but Draco reminded himself that if the other man asphyxiated on his own vomit, Draco was likely still to be blamed for it.
He transfigured the couch into a bed, using the shift in the shape of the furniture to turn Potter onto his side to help prevent Draco's eventual incarceration. Potter curled immediately into the blanket and pillow that Draco had transfigured, and Draco wondered anew how the man had survived in the Wizarding World. Was he really so incompetent that he hadn't been able to manage the simple bit of Transfiguration while drunk? Or so stupid that it hadn't occurred to him?
He waited a moment to ensure that Potter didn't react adversely to any of the changes that Draco had made, and then he headed back upstairs to his own bed, wondering if everyone else loved Potter only because they hadn't spent enough time with him to realise what a moron he was.
~*~
Theodore woke early in the morning, as was his habit, and Draco smirked to himself as he directed the little boy to the library to find a book to read before Narcissa arrived to take over his care.
His grin was full-fledged but brief when Potter shuffled into the kitchen with the little boy a few minutes later. He looked like death warmed over, wincing a little in the face of the loud, enthusiastic chatter.
Instances of justice when it came to this particular man were few and far between, and Draco would take every moment that he could.
Potter, being Potter, didn't thank Draco for any of the steps that he had taken to make the other man more comfortable.
Draco therefore didn't even go to the trouble of pointing out that he had Hangover Potions for just this sort of situation. He would have made the man work for it, of course, but if he couldn't even be polite then he could suffer as far as Draco was concerned.
He made himself tea and felt remarkably better by the time Narcissa arrived. Potter looked as though he wanted to crawl into a hole and die-though Draco could hardly help but observe that the other man had taken great pains to ensure that Theodore didn't realise this.
Still, it didn't really take that much work to hide something from a three year old, even if you were the most inept Saviour of the Wizarding World.
Narcissa's eyebrows rose slightly when she took in the sight of Potter, but she was too well bred to say anything. Instead, she kissed Draco on the cheek, kissed Potter on the cheek-it made Draco grind his teeth every time she did it-and asked Theodore what he wanted to do today.
The little boy beamed at her. "Have a sleepover in the lib'ary like Hawwy!"
The eyebrow rose a little further, Potter flushed a dull shade of red, and Draco smirked some more.
"I've got to go to work," Potter excused himself. "Have a good day, Teddy Bear."
Draco lingered only long enough to positively ensure that they didn't inadvertently manage to arrive at work at the same time. He bid farewell to his mother and Theodore and headed to the Ministry really just wanting the day to be over with so that he could chew the other man out when he was functional enough to understand what Draco was saying.
It was really too bad that the hangover would probably be gone by then. The other man deserved to suffer.
~*~
The fact that Potter arrived home at 8:42pm made Draco contemplate four of the untraceable and deadly potions that he knew how to brew. Unfortunately, he suspected that the fact that he lived with the other man would still ensure that he wound up in Akzaban even if they couldn't prove anything.
Draco had been forced to put Theodore to bed once again, and it was abundantly clear to everyone by now that Theodore preferred to have Potter read him a story. The fact that Draco had now done it for two days in a row was not a trend that Theodore liked, and Draco had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from responding to the little boy's query as to why that was with the response that Harry Potter was a fucking prat.
There were certain truths that you didn't reveal to small children, after all. But no one could blame Draco if Theodore worked it out on his own, so Draco was just going to have to bide his time.
Once Theodore was asleep, he made his way to the kitchen, made himself a mug of tea very slowly and just sat there and got progressively angrier until Potter slunk through the door frame into the kitchen at 8:42pm.
Draco knew it was 8:42 because he cast a Tempus solely for the grim satisfaction of seeing the other man wince at the numbers hanging in the air. Draco didn't even have to say anything.
"Look, Malfoy-" he began.
"I don't really want to hear your excuses," Draco cut him off curtly. "I had my reservations about you being a fit guardian for a small child, but I was well aware that the Saviour of the Wizarding World could do no harm in the eyes of the world. It is quite clear from a practical essay that you are utterly incompetent."
Potter flushed a spectacular red once more.
"That's not fair, Malfoy. Teddy likes to spend time with me."
"The likes of a three year old is hardly a discerning assessment, Potter," Draco said coldly. "The fact that you've barely made it a week without forgetting about him half the time speaks for itself."
"I didn't forget about him!" Potter yelped indignantly.
Draco raised an eyebrow sharply.
The flush deepened.
"I didn't," Potter insisted. "You know Aurors don't have regular hours."
"I know that people who are capable of common courtesy would advise their housemates that they aren't coming home at the anticipated hour, especially when they'd been told to be on time particularly."
Idly, Draco wondered how much one person could flush until they spontaneously combusted. The fact that he would probably still be blamed for that death could perhaps be overlooked for the novelty.
He saw the exact moment Potter decided to bluster through it rather than consider something so outlandish as an apology.
"I don't plan these things, Malfoy. There was a sting, and we weren't given the option of not staying-and we weren't allowed to send notes, either," he added with heavy resentment.
"And if I hadn't been here, I suppose you would have used that excuse to explain why Theodore was left on his own?"
Potter's jaw was clenched tight enough that Draco was surprised he didn't hear bones creak.
"If you hadn't been here, then Molly would have stayed, just like we discussed. She knows that this in an unpredictable job, and she's happy to take care of Teddy whenever my job necessitates it."
"And you think that will explain the situation to a small child who feels abandoned?"
Potter's hands clenched into fists. "Why don't you tell me?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Did you feel abandoned by your father and his Ministry job?"
Draco stiffened, stomach clenching. "Don't talk to me about my father, Potter."
Potter's eyes glittered, hard as the emeralds that they so often resembled. "Then don't accuse me of abandoning my child, Malfoy. It's called work, and it's necessary."
Draco's nostrils flared. "Oh, it was because of work that you got drunk as a skunk last night."
Potter's eyes flickered closed for a moment and then flashed open again.
"That was different. But I had to go."
"Had to go get drunk? Who knew that the Saviour of the Wizarding World was an alcoholic?"
"Shut it, Malfoy."
"Because that supremely logical argument has cleared everything up."
Potter's hands were in fists again, and Draco suddenly wondered how many brawls the other man got into. Did he not have the sense to at least go for his wand?
He looked as though he was holding onto his temper with supreme effort, and Draco wondered if he could prove that the other man attacked first it would excuse the fact that he had utterly trounced him and left him a dribbling pile of mush on the floor.
"Not that it's any of your business, Malfoy, but it was Fred's birthday."
"It is my business, Potter. It became my business when we became the joint guardians of a child and moved in together. And Fred's birthday does not explain why you rolled into the house at three a.m. People with a modicum of standard decency make arrangements for that sort of thing-and don't go out to get plastered in the middle of the work week!"
Potter's lips twitched, but what he said was an extremely tight but cool, "I didn't think I'd be out that late. I lost track of the time."
"You could have avoided drinking and thus this entire mess."
"It wasn't something I could refuse."
"And here we are back at your problem."
"Fuck, Malfoy, would you stop calling it that? I already told you, it was Fred's birthday. We had to drink."
"That explains nothing."
"It has nothing to do with you, Malfoy."
"We already went over this, Potter. Memory loss is a symptom of alcohol abuse."
"Fuck off," Potter snarled, green eyes glowing.
It had been a long time since Draco had been this close to Potter when he was this angry.
Potter had never made sense to Draco, but he was quite sure that the other man was being even more nonsensical than normal. If anyone had the right to be upset right now, it was Draco.
Where did Potter get off acting as though he were the injured one?
Oh, wait. Saviour of the Wizarding World.
"Do you kiss Theodore with that mouth?"
To his surprise, though, some of the tension dropped out of Potter's shoulders.
"You're right. I don't want to say something I would regret." He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I should have let you know I was going to be late, though I honestly didn't think it was going to take that long. There's just … there's some things you can't refuse, you know, Malfoy?"
This seemed like a much more honest question than it had previously, but Draco didn't have the slightest idea what Potter was talking about. Things you couldn't refuse? Draco had become a Death Eater because he hadn't been able to refuse, and Potter was asking for his sympathy because he'd gone out to a party?
"Forgive me for not having a lot of sympathy with your party schedule, Potter."
"Goddamn it, Malfoy. Why are you such a bastard?"
"I'm the bastard? Let's take a look at who's blowing off their responsibilities?"
"Teddy isn't my only responsibility!" Potter yelled.
"Drinking isn't a responsibility!"
"Fred is!"
"Is he your ward?"
"He's dead!" Potter screamed.
"I beg your pardon?"
"He's dead," Potter repeated at a slightly more reasonable volume, though his eyes were still wild.
"You're celebrating the birthday of someone dead?"
Even for a Gryffindor, that was particularly bizarre.
Potter shook his head. "It was for George. He has trouble getting through it on his own, and I couldn't say no."
Draco frowned and tried to work out if any part of that had made sense. The names tickled at the edges of his memory, and Draco pushed for it.
The family tree unfolded in his mind's eye. Ah.
"They were twins?"
Potter stared at him like he was a complete idiot, and Draco had just started to bristle when Potter laughed and dragged a hand through his rat's nest of hair.
"Sorry. Yeah. Why would I assume that you knew anything about the Weasleys? They were twins. So it's not a good day, and I didn't know how to say no."
Draco had seen the other man's hero complex a mile away for years. There was no way that the other man wouldn't have gone.
"You should have let us know," Draco pointed out more mildly this time. Yelling at the other man had had absolutely zero effect so far.
Potter nodded. "Yeah, I should have, even when I thought it was just going to be one drink. I can't always predict work, but I can try to be more careful outside of work, all right?"
He looked so hopeful, and Draco couldn't decide whether he was ever-so-slightly impressed or whether he wanted to hit the man in the face because common courtesy was something that should have been obvious.
"I'm sure Theodore would appreciate your giving being reliable a try," Draco settled on.
Potter stiffened but visibly forced himself to relax again.
"Yeah, I'll, uh, I'll give that a try. How about I look after Teddy on Friday and Saturday?"
Draco tilted his head slightly to the side. Was that Potter's way of apologising? He supposed that was … almost acceptable. A better effort than none, anyway.
Draco inclined his head. "Very well, Potter."
Potter's lips tipped up faintly. "Right, then."
He turned, and it was only at this point that Draco saw the tattered and singed remains of Potter's cloak.
"What happened to you?" he demanded.
Potter turned back in confusion, apparently saw where Draco's gaze was and sort of peered over his should at himself.
"Oh, you know, the sting."
Draco suppressed the little squirm of something like guilt in his stomach. After all, it was hardly his fault if the other man hadn't pointed out that he was injured. Was Draco supposed to sense it?
"And you still haven't learnt to duck?"
Rather than taking offence, Potter laughed.
"Nope. I think it's the Slytherins who learnt to duck. The Gryffindors are the stupid ones, remember?" He sounded positively cordial when he bade Draco good night.
Draco watched the other man go and wondered if the other man had been in pain through the entire conversation.
Gryffindors were impossible to understand. A large part of Draco still couldn't believe that he was living with one. If it continued on as absurdly and painfully as the last few weeks, it was only a matter of time before they killed one another.
~*~
Potter stayed true to his word, for once, and actually came home on Friday on time so that he could take care of Theodore. Draco had to admit that it was a relief to be able to get out of the house and away from Potter and this insane life that he had suddenly been dropped into.
Blaise and Theo wanted an update on the whole situation, but Draco found that after he'd spent a few minutes complaining about the major faults, he didn't want to talk about it anymore.
"I have to deal with Potter every minute that I'm living in that house," he announced with finality. "I don't want to deal with him now that I've escaped it."
Blaise and Theo exchanged a look and then steered the conversation away to other topics.
Draco felt altogether calmer by the time he left his friends, and this lasted all the way until he got down the hallway at Grimmauld Place and found Potter and Theodore in the kitchen drinking cocoa. Theodore was swinging his feet back and forth with far too much energy.
It was after midnight. Draco's eyelid twitched.
Potter looked up and offered Draco a tired smile-which was baffling-and Theodore turned round at the movement and grinned at Draco.
"Hi, Dwaco! Hawwy killed Voldemort!"
This was said with a great deal of enthusiasm, and Draco's eyelid twitched again, and he wondered if he was going to come out of this with a slew of psychoses.
"I am aware of this fact," Draco said as calmly as he could.
"Do you think you could try sleeping again?" Potter asked.
Theodore nodded solemnly, and Potter smiled at him and came to scoop him into his arms. The little boy had never requested that Draco carry him but seemed to enjoy Potter doing it as often as possible. Draco would need to see that this was curtailed before a dependency developed.
They headed upstairs, Potter murmuring about how it was time to clean his teeth again, and Draco made himself tea, wondering just how full of himself Potter had to be to want to start the hero worship that young.
Potter returned twenty minutes later, as Draco was finishing his tea. Potter offered him that tired smile again and moved to put the kettle on again.
"Had to stay until he fell asleep," he explained, as though Draco had been waiting up for him. "Nightmares about Andromeda's death again. Wouldn't calm down in the bedroom."
Ah. This had not been occurring every night, but it happened with more frequency than either of them liked.
"Just to be sure that I understand; after he woke from nightmares, you decided that telling him about the Dark Lord's death would assist?"
To his surprise, Potter grinned at him. "Seems daft, doesn't it? But she disappeared from his life, and he knows that his mum and dad are gone, too. He was worried that something was going to happen to us. I couldn't promise him that nothing would, especially not with our jobs, but I wanted to let him know that it certainly wouldn't be without a fight."
Against his will, Draco's lips tipped up. "So you told him how you defeated the terror of the wizarding world."
Potter shrugged. "Seemed better than saying it was all dumb luck."
Draco wondered what it was about tonight's conversation; maybe it was just too late at night and Potter was sober but sleep-deprived? Or maybe Draco was sleep deprived; what Potter was saying almost made sense.
Potter finished making his mug of tea and sort of gestured at Draco as though he were saying "cheers" with the mug.
"'Night, Malfoy."
"Goodnight, Potter."
Draco listened to the other man head up the stairs, altogether perturbed. Things made more sense when they were fighting.
~*~
The next day, Potter suggested that they alternate Friday evenings and Saturdays with Theodore. They could see their friends or just get out for a little bit longer than normal while still giving the little boy both Sundays with both of them so that he would not feel abandoned or unimportant.
This was not a completely dreadful idea, since it also meant they wouldn't have to negotiate with one another every time they want to do something social. Draco accepted this notion and then wondered why Potter looked so relieved. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but Potter didn't seem to notice.
"I was thinking it would make sense to celebrate Teddy's birthday next weekend." Draco was just about to curse the other man where he stood for assuming that Draco would deal with all of that when Potter continued. "I thought we could both invite our friends over, some of the Weasleys have young kids, and it would give everyone the chance to get to know one another while, you know, there are kids around."
It looked as though Potter hoped the presence of small children would have everyone on their best behaviour. It was probably a recipe for disaster, and it had some obvious flaws.
"Potter, how-"
The other man shoved a bunch of pieces of paper at him. The cardstock was of mediocre quality, and the image of balloons on the front was tacky in the extreme. Draco opened them expecting the worst but was stunned when he read the first line.
The home of Harry Potter is located at #12 Grimmauld Place.
He raised his eyes to Potter, who was looking anywhere but at him. "So, you know, you can invite whoever you want, and I guess we should just confirm numbers, but it'll be nice to have people over, yeah?"
Given the lack of eye contact and the run-on speech, Draco assumed Potter knew these invitations were permanent. Anyone he gave these invitations to would know where Potter's house was forevermore.
The actual words weren't exactly graceful, but otherwise, this was probably the most mannerly action that Potter had achieved so far.
It was also true that Theodore hadn't seen a lot of people outside of the two of them and Draco's mum and Mrs Weasley since this had happened. It would likely be beneficial to widen his social circle.
"This doesn't give us very much time to plan," he pointed out.
Potter made a face. "We just need to tell people to come and make a cake or something, don't we?"
The other man was such a heathen. Draco sniffed.
"Provide me with a guest list by Tuesday at the latest."
Potter's eyes had widened. He looked as though he had no idea what he'd got himself into.
Business as usual, then, Draco thought with a barely supressed roll of his eyes.
~*~
Draco was altogether certain that he had never been surrounded by this many Weasleys in his life. They had spawned, and this meant that in addition to Mrs Weasley and her husband and all their adult children, there was also a handful of manic, red-haired children running around.
It felt rather like a nightmare, actually, although if Draco were being honest, it wasn't really the children, however uncouth, who were the problem.
"What is he doing here?"
Ronald Weasley's voice carried far enough that at least half the party heard it. Granger stiffened as though she'd been Petrified, Draco's friends glared, and Draco glowered at the obnoxious prat.
Potter manhandled the other man out of the library, and Draco brushed past what-was-her-name-Lilac, Lily, some sort of flower-and followed, casting a listening charm at the door once it became clear that Potter had had the sense to charm the room.
"Ron, Malfoy lives here."
"He's an arse!"
"It doesn't matter whether he's an arse or not." Draco stiffened, and Potter continued. "Malfoy and I were both made Teddy's guardians. We both live with him, and we're both throwing him this party. If you don't like it, you are welcome to turn right around and leave!"
"Why are you defending him?"
Potter let out a gust of breath and sounded as though he were very close to losing his temper. "I'm pointing out the realities of my life right now."
"That's a room full of Slytherins in there."
"That's a group of my friends and Malfoy's friends, and if you start in on all Slytherins being evil, I'm going to kick the crap out of you, got me?"
"I'm just saying-"
"Are you trying to make my life more difficult?" Potter asked plaintively.
For the first time, Weasley's voice didn't sound belligerent. "No, Mate, of course I'm not."
Potter laughed, and Draco rolled his eyes. When would the other man grow up?
Draco slipped back into the library before the two of them could catch him.
Back in the other room, he noticed how the Weasleys had ranged off on one side of the room with Theodore, leaving the Syltherins, vastly outnumbered, on the other. They'd blocked off Granger entirely, and all Draco could see now was a sea of red.
Then he realised that the flower-named girl was on the outskirts as well, looking trapped between the Weasleys and the Slytherins.
At this rate, the party was going to be over before it had even started. Draco might not care if this went down as Potter's disaster, but now that he was involved, he needed to ensure that it was more successful than that. Squaring his shoulders, Draco stepped forward and offered his hand.
"I'm Draco Malfoy. Welcome to our home."
Big brown eyes blinked at him in utter confusion, but she at least shook his hand. He actually heard a murmur go up from the Weasley side of the room. It was like they were all eleven again.
"Oh, uh, hello." She smiled a bit anaemically. "You know, we probably haven't been formally introduced. I'm Lavender."
That was it! Lavender Br-
Oh, shit.
Of all the people for him to first politely introduce himself to in full view of the entire room.
Granger wasn't going to speak to him ever again.
"Oy! What do you think you're doing?"
Draco stepped carefully away from the woman as Ron Weasley came barrelling between them, Potter at his heels. He pasted on his best formal and entirely false smile.
"I'm welcoming Mrs Weasley to the party," Draco answered, ensuring that his voice was stripped of mockery.
Lavender slipped an arm through Weasley's, though he was still red and looked as though he wanted to pull a wand on Draco.
"It's all right, Sweetie, we've never been introduced, and Draco was just being polite."
Weasley looked as though this notion was utterly foreign. Lavender squeezed his arm. "Let's go get something to drink, all right?"
Weasley finally allowed himself to be led, though he was glaring at Draco as though he seriously suspected that Draco had been trying to steal his girl.
As if they'd have the same taste in romantic partners.
"Hawwy!" A blur launched itself at Potter.
For once, Draco was altogether delighted by the fact that Theodore had this tendency. Potter hauled the child up into his arms, and there was laughter and cooing and a marked decrease in the tension in the room.
Potter smiled at everyone with that big dumb smile of his.
"Let's get this party started. What would you like to do first, Teddy?"
"Open pwesents!"
Everyone laughed, another one of the Weasley males stepping forward to clap Potter on the back, saying, "Ask a stupid question."
Draco managed to talk Theodore into opening only one gift now and then playing some games in order to get the party back onto the schedule that Draco had carefully prepared.
Most of the Weasleys joined in, and everyone did their best to keep Ronald Weasley and Lavender separated from Granger. At Potter's insistence, there were some absurd Muggle games, including one called Twister where copious amounts of red-headed Weasleys contorted on the floor like they were being subjected to the Cruciatus. It made Theodore and the five other children giggle hysterically. It was hard to be altogether unaffected by so much sheer happiness, even when it was infantile. (Plus, seeing the Weasleys and Potter make fools of themselves was rarely a hardship.)
It was clear to Draco that the Slytherins felt outnumbered, but that was inevitable in a group of this many Weasleys. Granger didn't participate in the games once Ronald Weasley was involved, so she came to speak to the Slytherins. She had almost always been more … reasonable than her friends. Blaise and Theo knew the value of important allies, and it wasn't as though Granger was trying to become friends. Unlike the vast majority of the Weasley horde, she was simply doing her best to ensure that the Slytherins didn't feel as though they were here on sufferance only.
It was galling, but apart from Ronald Weasley's rude introduction, there was very little behaviour that could actually be pinpointed as unacceptable. Really, given the percentage of Gryffindors in the room, most of the guests were on positively decent behaviour.
Draco was still trying to work out why Theodore calling the youngest Weasley male by his name invariably resulted in his blushing, Granger's glowering, and Potter refusing to meet anyone's eyes. Gryffindors were so fucking bizarre.
Theodore clearly enjoyed running around with all the children, and Draco tried to think of Slytherin children they could introduce him to in order to ensure this did not become a problem. Not even to counterbalance the Weasleys would Draco introduce Theodore to Pansy's spawn, but he was sure he could come up with someone acceptable….
Overall, it went much better than Draco had expected. He was pretty sure that Granger had actually got within striking distance of Weasley at least once solely so that everyone else would converge and separate them leading Weasley to lose the thread of the argument that he'd started with Theo.
Potter apparently actually had company manners that he chose to employ infrequently. They managed cake, ice cream, presents, and numerous rather silly games that would suit a four-year-old. There should probably have been more children, but despite the awkwardness, Draco appreciated the opportunity to invite his friends, and he recognized that it was only logical that Potter be allowed to invite all his friends as well, even if he could wish the other man had made other, less-red-headed choices.
Theodore was exhausted by the end of the day, making it easy to put him to bed. He hugged and kissed both Draco and Potter before Potter tucked him in, and it suddenly seemed for a moment as though they were a proper family.
Draco tried to tell himself that that wasn't weird. And that he wasn't feeling something altogether too mushy for words.
When they returned downstairs, there was party detritus everywhere.
"We could leave it to the morning," Potter suggested.
Clearly, he couldn't be bearable for more than short spans of time.
"Unlike you, Potter, I do not like to live in my or anyone else's filth."
Even Draco could admit that it was a little more snappish than Potter's comment had really warranted, but he'd been biting his tongue the entire day playing nicely with so many of Potter's so-called friends and hangers-on.
"Geez, Malfoy, I wasn't suggesting leaving it like this forever, just 'til the morning because it's been a long day."
Draco bristled. "And then in the morning, since I'm the one who gets up early, I suppose I'll just happen to be expected to clean it all up first?"
"I didn't say that," Potter gritted out angrily. "Though if you want to be such an arse about it, you can clean it all up."
"Business as usual!"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Potter demanded, as though he didn't know.
"Seriously, Potter, how spoiled are you? The half-finished cups of tea, plate of partly eaten biscuit, books on arms of chairs, clothes shed haphazardly. How do you think they get cleaned up?"
"That's a bit rich coming from someone with a legion of house-elves at home. How much cleaning up did you do as a child?"
"About as much as you, I imagine," Draco sneered, "but unlike you, I've grown up!"
"It's not growing up to want a place to look sterile and unlived in! Dammit, Malfoy, I'm allowed to leave books lying around."
"What you do in your house is your business. But there are three people in the house now, and two thirds of us would enjoy not being overwhelmed by someone else's mess."
Potter's voice sounded a little weird, unlike his own, each word carefully enunciated. "It sounds like you're saying it would be better if it looked like I didn't live here."
"It would be a distinct improvement," Draco muttered.
He had enough reminders of the fact that he was living with Harry bloody Potter that he didn't need to see it every moment the man wasn't in his face.
Potter's eyes flashed green fire, and the hairs on the back of Draco's neck prickled. A sudden wind gusted furiously through the room, and Draco didn't dare move.
The wind disappeared as precipitously as it had arrived, and without a word, Potter turned and walked out of the room. Draco heard the stairs creak a moment later as he headed upstairs.
Widening his attention from Potter and his abrupt departure, Draco felt his mouth come perilously close to falling open in shock.
The room was pristine, cleaned in an instant, it appeared, without so much as a wand, by the infuriated Saviour of the Wizarding World.
Draco swallowed, felt his heart thudding in his chest, and told himself that he didn't now know what the Dark Lord had felt like when Potter had appeared for that final confrontation.
He snorted to himself. That level of rage over cleaning? The man was unbalanced.
It was a fucking miracle that Harry Potter had lived to twenty-one. The man was an idiotic menace to the wizarding world and hands-down the most irritating person Draco had ever met.
He brought the lights up to full brightness with a murmured word.
"What do you think you're doing, Potter?"
The other man froze, shoulders hunching a bit, and then turned around slowly.
"Oh." He sounded even more clueless than normal. His eyes were too bright. "Hi, Malfoy."
"Hi? Hi! It is three o'clock in the morning, Potter. On a Tuesday," Draco said with disgust.
Potter opened his mouth, but Draco overrode him.
"I don't know what your habits were like when you lived alone." Potter tried to speak again, but Draco kept going, adding cuttingly, "Nor do I care. Though it may have escaped your notice, you are not living alone anymore, and you are taking care of a three-year-old child!"
"Shh," Potter hissed. "You'll wake him."
"Nice time to start caring," Draco sneered. "For your information, I know how to employ Silencing Charms."
Potter snapped to attention, turning for the stairs with too-hasty movements and grasping for the wall; it was abundantly clear-if it hadn't been clear already-that he was very drunk.
"You can't put a Silencing Charm on a kid! What if something's wrong! What if-"
"Shut up, Potter. You may be an idiot, but I assure you, I am not. The charm prevents him from hearing us, not us from hearing him."
Potter stood there, seeming frozen in place.
"Oh. Okay, then."
He wobbled back to the table, and Draco stood there, full of scorn, and seriously wondered why the Dark Lord wasn't ruling the entire world by now.
"Hey! I'm not an idiot."
Draco made a sound in the back of his throat at this absurdly belated declaration and wondered if the other man was getting stupider as he aged.
"You have responsibilities now," he reminded the other man sternly. Had he ever understood that? "I won't stand in the wings like some dutiful housewife and take care of everything while you're off gallivanting."
Potter blinked at him owlishly. His eyes were red and altogether bloodshot but still incredibly green; it was much easier to see now that he had finally stopped wearing those ridiculous spectacles.
"You'd make a crap wife, Malfoy."
With an effort, Draco resisted the urge to do something uncouth like hit his head against the kitchen table-or curse the Saviour of the Wizarding World into oblivion.
That was, unfortunately, a good way to end up in Azkaban.
Potter grinned suddenly and announced as though this were news, "You don't even have the right bits."
Draco's hand tightened on his wand. Maybe he could just curse the other man a little. He was so inebriated that there was every chance he wouldn't remember any of this in the morning.
"Well-spotted, Potter," Draco said acidly. "Since you are being even more nonsensical than normal and some of us have now had an inadequate night's sleep thanks to insensitive prats, we will resume this discussion tomorrow evening after work."
He pinned the other man with a stare. "So help me if you're not home immediately."
Potter was still staring at him as though Draco had ceased to speak English, and Draco suppressed a growl of frustration with supreme effort.
"I trust you can find your way to your bed without breaking your neck."
Self-control in fine shreds, Draco marched up the stairs to his room, bitter once more about the fact that he was on the first floor. It meant that even though he'd brought that ridiculous conversation to a close, he was going to have to listen to the other man stumble two floors above him to get to his room.
He changed into his sleepwear, performed his evening ablutions perfunctorily, and crawled into bed.
He needed to sleep, and he knew it, but he was really too angry to make it likely that he could accomplish it.
He closed his eyes resolutely. He needed to be up in three hours. Perhaps three and a half if he rushed in the morning, which was something he hated doing, but being exhausted at work was a good way to accidentally blow a hole in the space-time continuum-or at least wind up with the crappy shifts.
He let out a breath and pulled his Occlumency lessons to the forefront of his mind. There might not be a lot of Legilimens around, but Draco Shielded anyway. It made him an asset at the Department of Mysteries-and it meant that when he couldn't sleep he was much better at clearing his mind than the average person.
He was having trouble with it tonight, though, and he realised that he was still on edge just waiting for the sounds of Potter stumbling up the stairs.
He was keeping himself awake waiting for the other man to keep him awake. Draco didn't need anyone to tell him that this was dysfunctional behaviour.
He stopped trying to deny that he was waiting for the other man, and as the time ticked on, he felt something that he told himself was not concern edging in with the annoyance.
What in the name of all that was magical was the other man doing down there? Had he decided to make breakfast and was about to light the house on fire? Had fallen really quietly and broken his neck? Passed out in a pool of his own vomit?
Bugger.
Draco padded back downstairs to find the ground floor dark. Draco frowned. There was no way that he'd missed the other man climbing drunkenly up to the third floor.
He found the other man in the library, snoring on his back on the couch.
Draco stood for a long moment, staring down at the other man with a frown.
Had he really decided that it was too much work to get up the stairs? He was a runt, so he fit on the couch much better than Draco would have done, but it still couldn't have been nearly as comfortable as his bed.
He seriously deserved to be left like this for being a completely inconsiderate asshole, but Draco reminded himself that if the other man asphyxiated on his own vomit, Draco was likely still to be blamed for it.
He transfigured the couch into a bed, using the shift in the shape of the furniture to turn Potter onto his side to help prevent Draco's eventual incarceration. Potter curled immediately into the blanket and pillow that Draco had transfigured, and Draco wondered anew how the man had survived in the Wizarding World. Was he really so incompetent that he hadn't been able to manage the simple bit of Transfiguration while drunk? Or so stupid that it hadn't occurred to him?
He waited a moment to ensure that Potter didn't react adversely to any of the changes that Draco had made, and then he headed back upstairs to his own bed, wondering if everyone else loved Potter only because they hadn't spent enough time with him to realise what a moron he was.
~*~
Theodore woke early in the morning, as was his habit, and Draco smirked to himself as he directed the little boy to the library to find a book to read before Narcissa arrived to take over his care.
His grin was full-fledged but brief when Potter shuffled into the kitchen with the little boy a few minutes later. He looked like death warmed over, wincing a little in the face of the loud, enthusiastic chatter.
Instances of justice when it came to this particular man were few and far between, and Draco would take every moment that he could.
Potter, being Potter, didn't thank Draco for any of the steps that he had taken to make the other man more comfortable.
Draco therefore didn't even go to the trouble of pointing out that he had Hangover Potions for just this sort of situation. He would have made the man work for it, of course, but if he couldn't even be polite then he could suffer as far as Draco was concerned.
He made himself tea and felt remarkably better by the time Narcissa arrived. Potter looked as though he wanted to crawl into a hole and die-though Draco could hardly help but observe that the other man had taken great pains to ensure that Theodore didn't realise this.
Still, it didn't really take that much work to hide something from a three year old, even if you were the most inept Saviour of the Wizarding World.
Narcissa's eyebrows rose slightly when she took in the sight of Potter, but she was too well bred to say anything. Instead, she kissed Draco on the cheek, kissed Potter on the cheek-it made Draco grind his teeth every time she did it-and asked Theodore what he wanted to do today.
The little boy beamed at her. "Have a sleepover in the lib'ary like Hawwy!"
The eyebrow rose a little further, Potter flushed a dull shade of red, and Draco smirked some more.
"I've got to go to work," Potter excused himself. "Have a good day, Teddy Bear."
Draco lingered only long enough to positively ensure that they didn't inadvertently manage to arrive at work at the same time. He bid farewell to his mother and Theodore and headed to the Ministry really just wanting the day to be over with so that he could chew the other man out when he was functional enough to understand what Draco was saying.
It was really too bad that the hangover would probably be gone by then. The other man deserved to suffer.
~*~
The fact that Potter arrived home at 8:42pm made Draco contemplate four of the untraceable and deadly potions that he knew how to brew. Unfortunately, he suspected that the fact that he lived with the other man would still ensure that he wound up in Akzaban even if they couldn't prove anything.
Draco had been forced to put Theodore to bed once again, and it was abundantly clear to everyone by now that Theodore preferred to have Potter read him a story. The fact that Draco had now done it for two days in a row was not a trend that Theodore liked, and Draco had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from responding to the little boy's query as to why that was with the response that Harry Potter was a fucking prat.
There were certain truths that you didn't reveal to small children, after all. But no one could blame Draco if Theodore worked it out on his own, so Draco was just going to have to bide his time.
Once Theodore was asleep, he made his way to the kitchen, made himself a mug of tea very slowly and just sat there and got progressively angrier until Potter slunk through the door frame into the kitchen at 8:42pm.
Draco knew it was 8:42 because he cast a Tempus solely for the grim satisfaction of seeing the other man wince at the numbers hanging in the air. Draco didn't even have to say anything.
"Look, Malfoy-" he began.
"I don't really want to hear your excuses," Draco cut him off curtly. "I had my reservations about you being a fit guardian for a small child, but I was well aware that the Saviour of the Wizarding World could do no harm in the eyes of the world. It is quite clear from a practical essay that you are utterly incompetent."
Potter flushed a spectacular red once more.
"That's not fair, Malfoy. Teddy likes to spend time with me."
"The likes of a three year old is hardly a discerning assessment, Potter," Draco said coldly. "The fact that you've barely made it a week without forgetting about him half the time speaks for itself."
"I didn't forget about him!" Potter yelped indignantly.
Draco raised an eyebrow sharply.
The flush deepened.
"I didn't," Potter insisted. "You know Aurors don't have regular hours."
"I know that people who are capable of common courtesy would advise their housemates that they aren't coming home at the anticipated hour, especially when they'd been told to be on time particularly."
Idly, Draco wondered how much one person could flush until they spontaneously combusted. The fact that he would probably still be blamed for that death could perhaps be overlooked for the novelty.
He saw the exact moment Potter decided to bluster through it rather than consider something so outlandish as an apology.
"I don't plan these things, Malfoy. There was a sting, and we weren't given the option of not staying-and we weren't allowed to send notes, either," he added with heavy resentment.
"And if I hadn't been here, I suppose you would have used that excuse to explain why Theodore was left on his own?"
Potter's jaw was clenched tight enough that Draco was surprised he didn't hear bones creak.
"If you hadn't been here, then Molly would have stayed, just like we discussed. She knows that this in an unpredictable job, and she's happy to take care of Teddy whenever my job necessitates it."
"And you think that will explain the situation to a small child who feels abandoned?"
Potter's hands clenched into fists. "Why don't you tell me?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Did you feel abandoned by your father and his Ministry job?"
Draco stiffened, stomach clenching. "Don't talk to me about my father, Potter."
Potter's eyes glittered, hard as the emeralds that they so often resembled. "Then don't accuse me of abandoning my child, Malfoy. It's called work, and it's necessary."
Draco's nostrils flared. "Oh, it was because of work that you got drunk as a skunk last night."
Potter's eyes flickered closed for a moment and then flashed open again.
"That was different. But I had to go."
"Had to go get drunk? Who knew that the Saviour of the Wizarding World was an alcoholic?"
"Shut it, Malfoy."
"Because that supremely logical argument has cleared everything up."
Potter's hands were in fists again, and Draco suddenly wondered how many brawls the other man got into. Did he not have the sense to at least go for his wand?
He looked as though he was holding onto his temper with supreme effort, and Draco wondered if he could prove that the other man attacked first it would excuse the fact that he had utterly trounced him and left him a dribbling pile of mush on the floor.
"Not that it's any of your business, Malfoy, but it was Fred's birthday."
"It is my business, Potter. It became my business when we became the joint guardians of a child and moved in together. And Fred's birthday does not explain why you rolled into the house at three a.m. People with a modicum of standard decency make arrangements for that sort of thing-and don't go out to get plastered in the middle of the work week!"
Potter's lips twitched, but what he said was an extremely tight but cool, "I didn't think I'd be out that late. I lost track of the time."
"You could have avoided drinking and thus this entire mess."
"It wasn't something I could refuse."
"And here we are back at your problem."
"Fuck, Malfoy, would you stop calling it that? I already told you, it was Fred's birthday. We had to drink."
"That explains nothing."
"It has nothing to do with you, Malfoy."
"We already went over this, Potter. Memory loss is a symptom of alcohol abuse."
"Fuck off," Potter snarled, green eyes glowing.
It had been a long time since Draco had been this close to Potter when he was this angry.
Potter had never made sense to Draco, but he was quite sure that the other man was being even more nonsensical than normal. If anyone had the right to be upset right now, it was Draco.
Where did Potter get off acting as though he were the injured one?
Oh, wait. Saviour of the Wizarding World.
"Do you kiss Theodore with that mouth?"
To his surprise, though, some of the tension dropped out of Potter's shoulders.
"You're right. I don't want to say something I would regret." He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I should have let you know I was going to be late, though I honestly didn't think it was going to take that long. There's just … there's some things you can't refuse, you know, Malfoy?"
This seemed like a much more honest question than it had previously, but Draco didn't have the slightest idea what Potter was talking about. Things you couldn't refuse? Draco had become a Death Eater because he hadn't been able to refuse, and Potter was asking for his sympathy because he'd gone out to a party?
"Forgive me for not having a lot of sympathy with your party schedule, Potter."
"Goddamn it, Malfoy. Why are you such a bastard?"
"I'm the bastard? Let's take a look at who's blowing off their responsibilities?"
"Teddy isn't my only responsibility!" Potter yelled.
"Drinking isn't a responsibility!"
"Fred is!"
"Is he your ward?"
"He's dead!" Potter screamed.
"I beg your pardon?"
"He's dead," Potter repeated at a slightly more reasonable volume, though his eyes were still wild.
"You're celebrating the birthday of someone dead?"
Even for a Gryffindor, that was particularly bizarre.
Potter shook his head. "It was for George. He has trouble getting through it on his own, and I couldn't say no."
Draco frowned and tried to work out if any part of that had made sense. The names tickled at the edges of his memory, and Draco pushed for it.
The family tree unfolded in his mind's eye. Ah.
"They were twins?"
Potter stared at him like he was a complete idiot, and Draco had just started to bristle when Potter laughed and dragged a hand through his rat's nest of hair.
"Sorry. Yeah. Why would I assume that you knew anything about the Weasleys? They were twins. So it's not a good day, and I didn't know how to say no."
Draco had seen the other man's hero complex a mile away for years. There was no way that the other man wouldn't have gone.
"You should have let us know," Draco pointed out more mildly this time. Yelling at the other man had had absolutely zero effect so far.
Potter nodded. "Yeah, I should have, even when I thought it was just going to be one drink. I can't always predict work, but I can try to be more careful outside of work, all right?"
He looked so hopeful, and Draco couldn't decide whether he was ever-so-slightly impressed or whether he wanted to hit the man in the face because common courtesy was something that should have been obvious.
"I'm sure Theodore would appreciate your giving being reliable a try," Draco settled on.
Potter stiffened but visibly forced himself to relax again.
"Yeah, I'll, uh, I'll give that a try. How about I look after Teddy on Friday and Saturday?"
Draco tilted his head slightly to the side. Was that Potter's way of apologising? He supposed that was … almost acceptable. A better effort than none, anyway.
Draco inclined his head. "Very well, Potter."
Potter's lips tipped up faintly. "Right, then."
He turned, and it was only at this point that Draco saw the tattered and singed remains of Potter's cloak.
"What happened to you?" he demanded.
Potter turned back in confusion, apparently saw where Draco's gaze was and sort of peered over his should at himself.
"Oh, you know, the sting."
Draco suppressed the little squirm of something like guilt in his stomach. After all, it was hardly his fault if the other man hadn't pointed out that he was injured. Was Draco supposed to sense it?
"And you still haven't learnt to duck?"
Rather than taking offence, Potter laughed.
"Nope. I think it's the Slytherins who learnt to duck. The Gryffindors are the stupid ones, remember?" He sounded positively cordial when he bade Draco good night.
Draco watched the other man go and wondered if the other man had been in pain through the entire conversation.
Gryffindors were impossible to understand. A large part of Draco still couldn't believe that he was living with one. If it continued on as absurdly and painfully as the last few weeks, it was only a matter of time before they killed one another.
~*~
Potter stayed true to his word, for once, and actually came home on Friday on time so that he could take care of Theodore. Draco had to admit that it was a relief to be able to get out of the house and away from Potter and this insane life that he had suddenly been dropped into.
Blaise and Theo wanted an update on the whole situation, but Draco found that after he'd spent a few minutes complaining about the major faults, he didn't want to talk about it anymore.
"I have to deal with Potter every minute that I'm living in that house," he announced with finality. "I don't want to deal with him now that I've escaped it."
Blaise and Theo exchanged a look and then steered the conversation away to other topics.
Draco felt altogether calmer by the time he left his friends, and this lasted all the way until he got down the hallway at Grimmauld Place and found Potter and Theodore in the kitchen drinking cocoa. Theodore was swinging his feet back and forth with far too much energy.
It was after midnight. Draco's eyelid twitched.
Potter looked up and offered Draco a tired smile-which was baffling-and Theodore turned round at the movement and grinned at Draco.
"Hi, Dwaco! Hawwy killed Voldemort!"
This was said with a great deal of enthusiasm, and Draco's eyelid twitched again, and he wondered if he was going to come out of this with a slew of psychoses.
"I am aware of this fact," Draco said as calmly as he could.
"Do you think you could try sleeping again?" Potter asked.
Theodore nodded solemnly, and Potter smiled at him and came to scoop him into his arms. The little boy had never requested that Draco carry him but seemed to enjoy Potter doing it as often as possible. Draco would need to see that this was curtailed before a dependency developed.
They headed upstairs, Potter murmuring about how it was time to clean his teeth again, and Draco made himself tea, wondering just how full of himself Potter had to be to want to start the hero worship that young.
Potter returned twenty minutes later, as Draco was finishing his tea. Potter offered him that tired smile again and moved to put the kettle on again.
"Had to stay until he fell asleep," he explained, as though Draco had been waiting up for him. "Nightmares about Andromeda's death again. Wouldn't calm down in the bedroom."
Ah. This had not been occurring every night, but it happened with more frequency than either of them liked.
"Just to be sure that I understand; after he woke from nightmares, you decided that telling him about the Dark Lord's death would assist?"
To his surprise, Potter grinned at him. "Seems daft, doesn't it? But she disappeared from his life, and he knows that his mum and dad are gone, too. He was worried that something was going to happen to us. I couldn't promise him that nothing would, especially not with our jobs, but I wanted to let him know that it certainly wouldn't be without a fight."
Against his will, Draco's lips tipped up. "So you told him how you defeated the terror of the wizarding world."
Potter shrugged. "Seemed better than saying it was all dumb luck."
Draco wondered what it was about tonight's conversation; maybe it was just too late at night and Potter was sober but sleep-deprived? Or maybe Draco was sleep deprived; what Potter was saying almost made sense.
Potter finished making his mug of tea and sort of gestured at Draco as though he were saying "cheers" with the mug.
"'Night, Malfoy."
"Goodnight, Potter."
Draco listened to the other man head up the stairs, altogether perturbed. Things made more sense when they were fighting.
~*~
The next day, Potter suggested that they alternate Friday evenings and Saturdays with Theodore. They could see their friends or just get out for a little bit longer than normal while still giving the little boy both Sundays with both of them so that he would not feel abandoned or unimportant.
This was not a completely dreadful idea, since it also meant they wouldn't have to negotiate with one another every time they want to do something social. Draco accepted this notion and then wondered why Potter looked so relieved. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but Potter didn't seem to notice.
"I was thinking it would make sense to celebrate Teddy's birthday next weekend." Draco was just about to curse the other man where he stood for assuming that Draco would deal with all of that when Potter continued. "I thought we could both invite our friends over, some of the Weasleys have young kids, and it would give everyone the chance to get to know one another while, you know, there are kids around."
It looked as though Potter hoped the presence of small children would have everyone on their best behaviour. It was probably a recipe for disaster, and it had some obvious flaws.
"Potter, how-"
The other man shoved a bunch of pieces of paper at him. The cardstock was of mediocre quality, and the image of balloons on the front was tacky in the extreme. Draco opened them expecting the worst but was stunned when he read the first line.
The home of Harry Potter is located at #12 Grimmauld Place.
He raised his eyes to Potter, who was looking anywhere but at him. "So, you know, you can invite whoever you want, and I guess we should just confirm numbers, but it'll be nice to have people over, yeah?"
Given the lack of eye contact and the run-on speech, Draco assumed Potter knew these invitations were permanent. Anyone he gave these invitations to would know where Potter's house was forevermore.
The actual words weren't exactly graceful, but otherwise, this was probably the most mannerly action that Potter had achieved so far.
It was also true that Theodore hadn't seen a lot of people outside of the two of them and Draco's mum and Mrs Weasley since this had happened. It would likely be beneficial to widen his social circle.
"This doesn't give us very much time to plan," he pointed out.
Potter made a face. "We just need to tell people to come and make a cake or something, don't we?"
The other man was such a heathen. Draco sniffed.
"Provide me with a guest list by Tuesday at the latest."
Potter's eyes had widened. He looked as though he had no idea what he'd got himself into.
Business as usual, then, Draco thought with a barely supressed roll of his eyes.
~*~
Draco was altogether certain that he had never been surrounded by this many Weasleys in his life. They had spawned, and this meant that in addition to Mrs Weasley and her husband and all their adult children, there was also a handful of manic, red-haired children running around.
It felt rather like a nightmare, actually, although if Draco were being honest, it wasn't really the children, however uncouth, who were the problem.
"What is he doing here?"
Ronald Weasley's voice carried far enough that at least half the party heard it. Granger stiffened as though she'd been Petrified, Draco's friends glared, and Draco glowered at the obnoxious prat.
Potter manhandled the other man out of the library, and Draco brushed past what-was-her-name-Lilac, Lily, some sort of flower-and followed, casting a listening charm at the door once it became clear that Potter had had the sense to charm the room.
"Ron, Malfoy lives here."
"He's an arse!"
"It doesn't matter whether he's an arse or not." Draco stiffened, and Potter continued. "Malfoy and I were both made Teddy's guardians. We both live with him, and we're both throwing him this party. If you don't like it, you are welcome to turn right around and leave!"
"Why are you defending him?"
Potter let out a gust of breath and sounded as though he were very close to losing his temper. "I'm pointing out the realities of my life right now."
"That's a room full of Slytherins in there."
"That's a group of my friends and Malfoy's friends, and if you start in on all Slytherins being evil, I'm going to kick the crap out of you, got me?"
"I'm just saying-"
"Are you trying to make my life more difficult?" Potter asked plaintively.
For the first time, Weasley's voice didn't sound belligerent. "No, Mate, of course I'm not."
Potter laughed, and Draco rolled his eyes. When would the other man grow up?
Draco slipped back into the library before the two of them could catch him.
Back in the other room, he noticed how the Weasleys had ranged off on one side of the room with Theodore, leaving the Syltherins, vastly outnumbered, on the other. They'd blocked off Granger entirely, and all Draco could see now was a sea of red.
Then he realised that the flower-named girl was on the outskirts as well, looking trapped between the Weasleys and the Slytherins.
At this rate, the party was going to be over before it had even started. Draco might not care if this went down as Potter's disaster, but now that he was involved, he needed to ensure that it was more successful than that. Squaring his shoulders, Draco stepped forward and offered his hand.
"I'm Draco Malfoy. Welcome to our home."
Big brown eyes blinked at him in utter confusion, but she at least shook his hand. He actually heard a murmur go up from the Weasley side of the room. It was like they were all eleven again.
"Oh, uh, hello." She smiled a bit anaemically. "You know, we probably haven't been formally introduced. I'm Lavender."
That was it! Lavender Br-
Oh, shit.
Of all the people for him to first politely introduce himself to in full view of the entire room.
Granger wasn't going to speak to him ever again.
"Oy! What do you think you're doing?"
Draco stepped carefully away from the woman as Ron Weasley came barrelling between them, Potter at his heels. He pasted on his best formal and entirely false smile.
"I'm welcoming Mrs Weasley to the party," Draco answered, ensuring that his voice was stripped of mockery.
Lavender slipped an arm through Weasley's, though he was still red and looked as though he wanted to pull a wand on Draco.
"It's all right, Sweetie, we've never been introduced, and Draco was just being polite."
Weasley looked as though this notion was utterly foreign. Lavender squeezed his arm. "Let's go get something to drink, all right?"
Weasley finally allowed himself to be led, though he was glaring at Draco as though he seriously suspected that Draco had been trying to steal his girl.
As if they'd have the same taste in romantic partners.
"Hawwy!" A blur launched itself at Potter.
For once, Draco was altogether delighted by the fact that Theodore had this tendency. Potter hauled the child up into his arms, and there was laughter and cooing and a marked decrease in the tension in the room.
Potter smiled at everyone with that big dumb smile of his.
"Let's get this party started. What would you like to do first, Teddy?"
"Open pwesents!"
Everyone laughed, another one of the Weasley males stepping forward to clap Potter on the back, saying, "Ask a stupid question."
Draco managed to talk Theodore into opening only one gift now and then playing some games in order to get the party back onto the schedule that Draco had carefully prepared.
Most of the Weasleys joined in, and everyone did their best to keep Ronald Weasley and Lavender separated from Granger. At Potter's insistence, there were some absurd Muggle games, including one called Twister where copious amounts of red-headed Weasleys contorted on the floor like they were being subjected to the Cruciatus. It made Theodore and the five other children giggle hysterically. It was hard to be altogether unaffected by so much sheer happiness, even when it was infantile. (Plus, seeing the Weasleys and Potter make fools of themselves was rarely a hardship.)
It was clear to Draco that the Slytherins felt outnumbered, but that was inevitable in a group of this many Weasleys. Granger didn't participate in the games once Ronald Weasley was involved, so she came to speak to the Slytherins. She had almost always been more … reasonable than her friends. Blaise and Theo knew the value of important allies, and it wasn't as though Granger was trying to become friends. Unlike the vast majority of the Weasley horde, she was simply doing her best to ensure that the Slytherins didn't feel as though they were here on sufferance only.
It was galling, but apart from Ronald Weasley's rude introduction, there was very little behaviour that could actually be pinpointed as unacceptable. Really, given the percentage of Gryffindors in the room, most of the guests were on positively decent behaviour.
Draco was still trying to work out why Theodore calling the youngest Weasley male by his name invariably resulted in his blushing, Granger's glowering, and Potter refusing to meet anyone's eyes. Gryffindors were so fucking bizarre.
Theodore clearly enjoyed running around with all the children, and Draco tried to think of Slytherin children they could introduce him to in order to ensure this did not become a problem. Not even to counterbalance the Weasleys would Draco introduce Theodore to Pansy's spawn, but he was sure he could come up with someone acceptable….
Overall, it went much better than Draco had expected. He was pretty sure that Granger had actually got within striking distance of Weasley at least once solely so that everyone else would converge and separate them leading Weasley to lose the thread of the argument that he'd started with Theo.
Potter apparently actually had company manners that he chose to employ infrequently. They managed cake, ice cream, presents, and numerous rather silly games that would suit a four-year-old. There should probably have been more children, but despite the awkwardness, Draco appreciated the opportunity to invite his friends, and he recognized that it was only logical that Potter be allowed to invite all his friends as well, even if he could wish the other man had made other, less-red-headed choices.
Theodore was exhausted by the end of the day, making it easy to put him to bed. He hugged and kissed both Draco and Potter before Potter tucked him in, and it suddenly seemed for a moment as though they were a proper family.
Draco tried to tell himself that that wasn't weird. And that he wasn't feeling something altogether too mushy for words.
When they returned downstairs, there was party detritus everywhere.
"We could leave it to the morning," Potter suggested.
Clearly, he couldn't be bearable for more than short spans of time.
"Unlike you, Potter, I do not like to live in my or anyone else's filth."
Even Draco could admit that it was a little more snappish than Potter's comment had really warranted, but he'd been biting his tongue the entire day playing nicely with so many of Potter's so-called friends and hangers-on.
"Geez, Malfoy, I wasn't suggesting leaving it like this forever, just 'til the morning because it's been a long day."
Draco bristled. "And then in the morning, since I'm the one who gets up early, I suppose I'll just happen to be expected to clean it all up first?"
"I didn't say that," Potter gritted out angrily. "Though if you want to be such an arse about it, you can clean it all up."
"Business as usual!"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Potter demanded, as though he didn't know.
"Seriously, Potter, how spoiled are you? The half-finished cups of tea, plate of partly eaten biscuit, books on arms of chairs, clothes shed haphazardly. How do you think they get cleaned up?"
"That's a bit rich coming from someone with a legion of house-elves at home. How much cleaning up did you do as a child?"
"About as much as you, I imagine," Draco sneered, "but unlike you, I've grown up!"
"It's not growing up to want a place to look sterile and unlived in! Dammit, Malfoy, I'm allowed to leave books lying around."
"What you do in your house is your business. But there are three people in the house now, and two thirds of us would enjoy not being overwhelmed by someone else's mess."
Potter's voice sounded a little weird, unlike his own, each word carefully enunciated. "It sounds like you're saying it would be better if it looked like I didn't live here."
"It would be a distinct improvement," Draco muttered.
He had enough reminders of the fact that he was living with Harry bloody Potter that he didn't need to see it every moment the man wasn't in his face.
Potter's eyes flashed green fire, and the hairs on the back of Draco's neck prickled. A sudden wind gusted furiously through the room, and Draco didn't dare move.
The wind disappeared as precipitously as it had arrived, and without a word, Potter turned and walked out of the room. Draco heard the stairs creak a moment later as he headed upstairs.
Widening his attention from Potter and his abrupt departure, Draco felt his mouth come perilously close to falling open in shock.
The room was pristine, cleaned in an instant, it appeared, without so much as a wand, by the infuriated Saviour of the Wizarding World.
Draco swallowed, felt his heart thudding in his chest, and told himself that he didn't now know what the Dark Lord had felt like when Potter had appeared for that final confrontation.
He snorted to himself. That level of rage over cleaning? The man was unbalanced.