Good Intentions
Title: Good Intentions
Author: sesheta_66
Betas: alaana_fair and bryoneybrynn
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: PG
Word count: ~ 3500
Summary: Narcissa's Slytherin skills are working well when she ropes not only Harry, but Draco into helping out with the first Beltane festival after the war.
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling, et al. This was created for fun, not for profit.
Good Intentions
May 3, 1998
Draco woke up, wondering if it had all been a dream. More like a nightmare, of course. He lay awake, staring at the ceiling in his room. He knew he should feel good, rejoice, celebrate perhaps. It was with a sense of dread he threw the covers off and headed for the shower.
I had been right to feel uneasy, he thought, as he watched helplessly, several hours later, as the Aurors took his father away. Afraid to look at his mother's face, he stood his ground. They had been polite, though Draco suspected the big, burly one would have loved to have got Lucius alone for a while.
His father had given his mother a peck on the cheek -- no words of consolation, just a small gesture -- and had placed his hands upon Draco's shoulders.
"Take care of your mother, now."
That was all? Draco wanted to scream at the man, as his emotions wreaked havoc with his conditioning. He wanted to call Lucius a hypocrite, since he'd done anything but take care of them. He wanted to ask so many questions. Why did you do it? How could you let them in here? How could you virtually hand me over to him? What were you thinking?
"Of course," he said instead. Lucius nodded once, and he was gone. Draco suspected it might be the last time he would ever see his father. For some reason, he didn't feel as horribly about that prospect as he should have. Perhaps he had learned something from having Snake Face living there these past months.
"Well, that's that," Narcissa said abruptly, then waved her wand frantically. Paintings flew off the walls of the foyer, vases and mirrors zoomed past, on their way to who knew where. She called for a house-elf and announced that she was going to be redecorating. Instructions were swiftly doled out before she turned back to Draco.
"I want no sign -- none whatsoever -- that he and the rest of them were ever here. I want the past year of our lives erased, forgotten, obliterated." Her eyes were frantic.
"But Father --" Draco stopped. What could he say? Poor Lucius? He didn't feel sorry for his father, but he didn't want to hurt his mother.
"Your father is gone," she replied. "I can't bring myself to spend another moment worrying about the fate he brought upon himself."
Draco's mouth opened, but no words came out. He had no idea how to respond.
"I spent quite a long time getting accustomed to the fact that my husband -- not for the first time -- had landed himself in trouble that not even his wealth could pay off."
"If it weren't for Potter --" Draco began, but his mother's glare stopped him before he could finish his thought.
"Potter saved your life," she warned him. "He saved all of our lives. And it would do you well to remember that, Draco."
He was shocked to hear such words from his mother's mouth. "But --"
"Need I remind you what it was like to live in this … this …?" She waved her arms around like a mad woman. "This place used to be our home. Now … all I see, all I feel, is his presence." She gazed sharply at Draco. "Do not tell me you have forgotten."
"No, of course not."
"Good. Then I suggest you get past whatever obsession you have with Harry Potter, and accept that you were wrong. You were wrong, my sister was wrong, and your father was wrong. If it weren't for that stupid Gryffindor, to use one of your favourite terms for him, we wouldn't be standing here, free to do as we wish. Don't ever forget that."
Anger started to burn up inside Draco. How could his mother say these things to him? How could she turn her back on his father so swiftly? As though reading his thoughts, she reached out and put an arm around him, then pulled him in for a hug. She didn't do it often any more, but Draco appreciated it when she did.
"But what will become of Father now?" he asked. Again, her body stiffened, and she let go of him.
"Your father will likely spend the rest of his days in Azkaban," she said. "If he's lucky, he may escape the Dementor's kiss."
Draco was shocked. "How can you be so nonchalant about this?" he asked incredulously.
"It took me a very long time adjust the last time your father was in prison. Just when I had finally reached that stage, the Dark Lord broke them out."
"I remember," Draco agreed. "You were just beginning to leave the house and attend social gatherings."
She pursed her lips, as though remembering something unpleasant. "Yes, well … it didn't take long before I realised that the man I thought I had married was not someone I knew at all."
"What do you mean?" Draco asked, confused.
"I mean that I did everything I could to protect you. Your father?" She glided over to the large picture window overlooking the east garden, and stared out for a time. Draco didn't interrupt her thoughts. After a few minutes, she continued. "Your father was always worried about himself, about his place, about advancing his position. He felt …"
Draco watched as her shoulders began to shake. He walked up behind her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and kissing her temple. "It's okay," he soothed.
"No it's not!" she shouted. "That … that … thing was prepared for you to die, to pay for your father's failures."
"I know, Mother."
"And your father didn't lift a finger to do anything about it!"
"I'm sure he felt that he couldn't --"
"He was looking out for himself," she corrected Draco. "It's high time everyone stopped making excuses for his poor choices, and self-serving decisions. He'd said you were old enough to manage for yourself --"
"And I was!" Draco retorted. "I am."
"Grown men cowered before Voldemort."
"But I --"
"And that's why I will never forgive your father. And why I cannot bring myself to be devastated that he is now getting what he deserves. He made his bed. Anything that went before this has been tarnished. I supported him -- we supported each other -- during the war. I kept hoping that he would do something to help you. But that never happened. I lost all respect for him when he didn't move heaven and earth to save you."
She took his hand in her own and lifted it to her mouth. She pressed a small kiss on his palm, then rested her cheek there, a hint of a smile gracing her lips. "Draco, you are my son. My only child. There is nothing I wouldn't do to protect you. Nothing. Do you understand me?"
"I know, Mother." Oddly, though he felt that somehow he should take offence at her coddling, it made him feel good.
"You could be the most powerful wizard in the world, Draco, and I would still protect you. That's how it is for mothers. There's nothing you can say or do to change that."
He smiled at the woman before him, taking in the strength of her features, the determination of her jaw, and the fierce protectiveness shining in her eyes. She was truly the most beautiful woman he knew. "I wouldn't dare try."
June 1, 1998
"I don't believe it!" Draco exclaimed.
"What's that dear?" Narcissa asked.
Draco held up a piece of parchment he'd just opened. "They're not pressing charges," he explained. He hadn't realised just how anxious he'd been about the possibility of sharing a cell with his father. He absently rubbed his arm, a part of him still afraid that it might start to burn again.
"Oh, that's wonderful!" she said. Draco marvelled once again at her strength. They both knew she was still facing possible charges related to being a Death Eater -- even though she'd never been one -- or aiding and abetting the rest of them, since they had stayed at the manor. Still, she seemed genuinely pleased for Draco.
"Not a bad eighteenth birthday gift, I'd say."
June 10, 1998
Waving his wand over the strange package, Draco searched for hidden curses, before determining that it was safe. Then he had a house-elf open it, just to be certain. He'd received enough hate mail that he'd set wards to block such correspondence. But he was not so naïve as to believe no one would be able to get through, if they were smart enough and determined enough.
Inside the package was a hawthorn wand -- his wand -- and a note.
Malfoy,
I had wanted to deliver this in person, but with all the funerals and memorial services, and other things I've had to attend, I haven't had the chance.
The wand chooses the wizard I was told when I was a boy. This one chose you, so you should have it back. I figured you'd rather I return it by post than hold onto it for much longer.
HP
P.S. No, I did not put a tracking spell on it. Don't be so paranoid.
Draco laughed, despite the fact that it was Potter who'd sent the note. Paranoid or not, he cast his own series of spells to be sure Potter was telling the truth. Of course he was.
Draco penned a quick reply.
Potter,
I am in receipt of the wand. You were correct in presuming I would want it returned as soon as possible.
Thank you.
DM
P.S. Some people call that caution, not paranoia. Not all of us can survive a Killing Curse, you know.
July 3, 1998
"What on earth?" Draco exclaimed when an owl approached him, as he and Narcissa were enjoying their tea outside.
"Who is it from?" she asked after Draco had opened it.
"Harry Potter," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Oh?" she asked, a strange smirk on her face. "You didn't tell me you were corresponding with him."
Draco rolled his eyes. "I am not corresponding with him. This is the first contact we've had since he returned my wand."
"Pity. What does he want this time?"
Draco ignored her remark and focussed on the question. "He would like to come by at our convenience."
"Well, owl him back and invite him to dinner tomorrow."
Draco raised his eyebrows at his mother, but did as she suggested.
July 4, 1998
"Mister Harry Potter is sitting in the front room," the house-elf announced.
Narcissa couldn't have jumped out of her seat fast enough. Honestly! If she was going to start fawning all over the bloody git, Draco would have to do something about that, and fast.
"Mr Potter!" she greeted him.
"Call me Harry," he replied with a goofy grin. Then he took Narcissa's hand and kissed it. Kissed it! "Nice to see you looking so well, Mrs Malfoy."
"Do call me Narcissa."
"Very well, Narcissa." Then Potter smiled at her again.
Oh, for the love of Merlin! Draco thought. "Potter," he said, a warning in his tone that, admittedly, might be lost on Potter.
"Malfoy!" He stuck his hand out. Somewhat dumbstruck, Draco simply took Potter's hand and shook it. "Thanks for having me over," Potter said, as if Draco had had a choice.
"My mother suggested we invite you to dinner."
Potter's face fell a little at the words. Surely he wasn't disappointed. They'd never even had a pleasant exchange of words before. What had he expected?
"Ah," Potter said. "I see." He turned a smile to Narcissa, and something about that bothered Draco. For some reason, Draco wanted that smile directed back at him. Ridiculous, really. "Thank you, Narcissa. Dinner really isn't necessary."
"You said in your letter that you had something to discuss?" Draco interrupted.
"Draco, don't be rude," his mother admonished. "Would you like something to drink, Harry?" she asked.
The evening was … well … bizarre came to mind. They sat around the table making small talk, Potter telling Narcissa what a great job she did with the redecorating -- Draco had to admit she'd worked wonders -- and Narcissa congratulating Potter on the positive impact his support was for various charities. Surely she wasn't planning to --
"I was wondering," she began, a gleam in her eye and charm oozing out of her. It was all Draco could do not to laugh as he watched her skilfully manipulate Potter into agreeing to work on her favourite annual event.
"I am a member of several foundations. Each May, one of them hosts a Beltane celebration."
"Beltane?" Potter asked.
"It's an ancient Celtic festival of fire," Draco interjected. "In early May, to put it in simple terms, we welcome the summer and celebrate fertility."
"Of course, there's much more to it than that," Narcissa said. "I would like for next year's celebration to be spectacular. One to rival the one on Calton Hill in Scotland."
Potter looked confused. "What exactly does this have to do with me?"
"Well, I believe that, if your name were associated with next year's event, people would flock to it."
Draco watched Potter's body language, and noticed his discomfort immediately. Ever the practiced manipulator, his mother added, "I believe that it would be a wonderful opportunity to bring the wizarding world together again, bridge some of those divides that were cultivated by the war. Something positive to ground us."
Draco watched Potter's resistance crumble. His mother hadn't lost her touch. "Count me in," Potter agreed.
Narcissa beamed. "I'm sure you and Draco will enjoy working together."
Wait, what? What just happened? Rather than argue the matter, Draco opted for changing the subject and discussing later how he too had got roped into helping her.
"Not that this hasn't been delightful," Draco said, "but you said you had something to discuss?"
"Two things, actually. First, I've been trying to convince the Aurors not to pursue an investigation on you, Narcissa."
Draco's stomach clenched. "You're not saying --"
"No, no," Potter interjected, placing a calming hand on Draco's arm. It felt … nice. "They aren't pressing charges right now, but they are going to investigate. They've been focussing most of their attention on known Death Eaters, but they plan to move on next month. I wanted to forewarn you."
Narcissa gave a curt nod. Draco could sense her fear.
"But they sent me a letter just the other day, saying they weren't pursuing charges against me," Draco argued.
"Because of your age," Potter said. "That and the fact that Voldemort had threatened your parents and had taken over your house."
Narcissa narrowed her eyes, considering Potter for a moment. "You got them to drop the charges, didn't you?" she asked him.
Potter's face went pink. "Yes."
"Why?" Draco asked.
"Draco, honestly!" Narcissa admonished. "The appropriate response would be thank you."
"But …" Draco looked at Potter, confused. "You hate me."
"Not any more," he replied. And then Potter smiled at him -- a genuine smile Draco had never seen cast in his direction before -- and Draco knew it was true. That knowledge settled comfortably in his chest.
Potter turned to Narcissa and the moment was gone. "I told them how you saved my life," he said. "But they said they still had to investigate completely."
Draco watched his mother accept the news gracefully. "I appreciate your efforts," she said.
"I won't give up until I see this done," Potter promised.
"Thank you."
"It's the least I could do," he said. "The second thing I wanted to discuss is Professor Snape."
Draco and his mother exchanged equally confused looks. "Severus?" his mother asked.
Potter nodded and started to fidget. What could possibly make him so nervous all of a sudden?
"What about him?" Draco asked.
"I've located a portrait," he told them.
"I … I didn't realise he ever had one painted," Narcissa said.
Draco tried to imagine Severus sitting still while an artist painted his likeness. The image was incongruous in his mind. "He never struck me as the type to arrange a sitting for such a thing," Draco pointed out.
"No kidding," Potter laughed. "Could you picture that?"
Draco caught his mother's eye, and they shared an amused look. "No, I can't picture it," Draco agreed.
"I would pity any artist that asked him," Narcissa added.
"It seems the Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts are painted immediately upon appointment. On the most part, from what I've heard, the artist begins portraits from photographs, and then by observing the subject. There are no sittings as such, and the first portrait gets sent for review, all within one month of his or her appointment."
"And you only just found out about it?" Narcissa asked.
"Yes. I have it at my house now." Draco was sure his own face mirrored the look of shock on his mother's. In explanation, Potter added, "There seems to be some debate going on about having the portrait at Hogwarts … given the circumstances of Professor Snape's appointment."
Draco felt the blood rush to his face. "He was --"
"He is still under suspicion," Potter explained. "I've given evidence, but until they clear his name officially, I believe the portrait is best kept elsewhere."
Narcissa looked confused. "Why are you telling us this?" she asked.
"I thought, perhaps, you might like to keep the portrait here, with you, at least until they agree to hang it at the school where it belongs."
Draco was speechless. He looked at Potter, who seemed unsure of himself all of a sudden.
"Of course, if you'd prefer, I can keep the portrait at my house. I just thought … well … that it would be less of a shock for him if he woke up and saw people that he …"
"Liked?" Draco offered.
Potter laughed. "Yeah."
"We would be honoured to have the portrait," Narcissa said.
Potter let out a long, relieved sigh.
"Why do you care?" Draco asked, before he could stop himself.
"Draco!" Narcissa scolded.
Potter shrugged. "He spent most of his life alone," he explained. "He was a brave man who had to hide who he really was from everyone. I find that sad."
Draco frowned. "He was a bastard to you," he pointed out.
"Yeah, he was," Potter agreed. "I don't know if you knew this, but my dad and godfather were pretty lousy to him, so he took that out on me. Still …" Potter went quiet and he frowned. "Still, everyone deserves better than that. If he couldn't have that in life, maybe he can in his afterlife."
Draco nodded. He was sure there was a lot more to the story than Potter let on, but he wouldn't push … for now. It seemed that, like it or not, Draco would be seeing a fair bit of Potter in the future. He could even imagine having civil conversations with Potter, when he might ask about it, sometime in the future. In fact, he was looking forward to it.
March 15, 1999
"Beltane is less than two months away, Draco. Can we focus, please?"
"But you are such a delightful distraction," Draco told him.
"I can't believe I have to put up with the two of you!" Snape bellowed.
"Oh, please, Severus, what choice do you have?" Harry taunted him.
"Must I remind you yet again, Mr Potter, that at no time have I ever granted you leave to call me by my first name?"
"Lighten up, Sev."
"And you!" Severus huffed. "The cheek from you knows no bounds. Have some respect!"
Harry walked up behind Draco, wrapping his arms around Draco's waist, and nibbling at his neck. "You really shouldn't tease him like that," he said, his breath ghosting over Draco's ear. Draco shivered and leaned back.
"For the love of --" Severus complained. "Kindly refrain from such behaviour in my presence!"
Harry laughed. "Is it true what they say about the Beltane Festival?" he asked.
"What, pray tell, might that be?" Severus asked in a mocking tone.
"That while the fires are burning, the bodies are burning in an entirely different way, of course," Harry said. Draco snorted and gave him a playful slap on the arm.
"Argh!" Severus grunted. "My eyes! I did not need that visual of the two of you."
Draco and Harry both laughed. "That was so cruel, I think I'm impressed," Draco said. "Who knew you had some Slytherin in you?"
"Well, I don't right now," Harry said, winking at Draco. "But I hope to later on!"
The sound of banging coming from the portrait faded quickly as they made a hasty retreat to Draco's bedroom. Draco couldn't ever remember looking this forward to the arrival of Beltane before.
Author: sesheta_66
Betas: alaana_fair and bryoneybrynn
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: PG
Word count: ~ 3500
Summary: Narcissa's Slytherin skills are working well when she ropes not only Harry, but Draco into helping out with the first Beltane festival after the war.
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling, et al. This was created for fun, not for profit.
Good Intentions
May 3, 1998
Draco woke up, wondering if it had all been a dream. More like a nightmare, of course. He lay awake, staring at the ceiling in his room. He knew he should feel good, rejoice, celebrate perhaps. It was with a sense of dread he threw the covers off and headed for the shower.
I had been right to feel uneasy, he thought, as he watched helplessly, several hours later, as the Aurors took his father away. Afraid to look at his mother's face, he stood his ground. They had been polite, though Draco suspected the big, burly one would have loved to have got Lucius alone for a while.
His father had given his mother a peck on the cheek -- no words of consolation, just a small gesture -- and had placed his hands upon Draco's shoulders.
"Take care of your mother, now."
That was all? Draco wanted to scream at the man, as his emotions wreaked havoc with his conditioning. He wanted to call Lucius a hypocrite, since he'd done anything but take care of them. He wanted to ask so many questions. Why did you do it? How could you let them in here? How could you virtually hand me over to him? What were you thinking?
"Of course," he said instead. Lucius nodded once, and he was gone. Draco suspected it might be the last time he would ever see his father. For some reason, he didn't feel as horribly about that prospect as he should have. Perhaps he had learned something from having Snake Face living there these past months.
"Well, that's that," Narcissa said abruptly, then waved her wand frantically. Paintings flew off the walls of the foyer, vases and mirrors zoomed past, on their way to who knew where. She called for a house-elf and announced that she was going to be redecorating. Instructions were swiftly doled out before she turned back to Draco.
"I want no sign -- none whatsoever -- that he and the rest of them were ever here. I want the past year of our lives erased, forgotten, obliterated." Her eyes were frantic.
"But Father --" Draco stopped. What could he say? Poor Lucius? He didn't feel sorry for his father, but he didn't want to hurt his mother.
"Your father is gone," she replied. "I can't bring myself to spend another moment worrying about the fate he brought upon himself."
Draco's mouth opened, but no words came out. He had no idea how to respond.
"I spent quite a long time getting accustomed to the fact that my husband -- not for the first time -- had landed himself in trouble that not even his wealth could pay off."
"If it weren't for Potter --" Draco began, but his mother's glare stopped him before he could finish his thought.
"Potter saved your life," she warned him. "He saved all of our lives. And it would do you well to remember that, Draco."
He was shocked to hear such words from his mother's mouth. "But --"
"Need I remind you what it was like to live in this … this …?" She waved her arms around like a mad woman. "This place used to be our home. Now … all I see, all I feel, is his presence." She gazed sharply at Draco. "Do not tell me you have forgotten."
"No, of course not."
"Good. Then I suggest you get past whatever obsession you have with Harry Potter, and accept that you were wrong. You were wrong, my sister was wrong, and your father was wrong. If it weren't for that stupid Gryffindor, to use one of your favourite terms for him, we wouldn't be standing here, free to do as we wish. Don't ever forget that."
Anger started to burn up inside Draco. How could his mother say these things to him? How could she turn her back on his father so swiftly? As though reading his thoughts, she reached out and put an arm around him, then pulled him in for a hug. She didn't do it often any more, but Draco appreciated it when she did.
"But what will become of Father now?" he asked. Again, her body stiffened, and she let go of him.
"Your father will likely spend the rest of his days in Azkaban," she said. "If he's lucky, he may escape the Dementor's kiss."
Draco was shocked. "How can you be so nonchalant about this?" he asked incredulously.
"It took me a very long time adjust the last time your father was in prison. Just when I had finally reached that stage, the Dark Lord broke them out."
"I remember," Draco agreed. "You were just beginning to leave the house and attend social gatherings."
She pursed her lips, as though remembering something unpleasant. "Yes, well … it didn't take long before I realised that the man I thought I had married was not someone I knew at all."
"What do you mean?" Draco asked, confused.
"I mean that I did everything I could to protect you. Your father?" She glided over to the large picture window overlooking the east garden, and stared out for a time. Draco didn't interrupt her thoughts. After a few minutes, she continued. "Your father was always worried about himself, about his place, about advancing his position. He felt …"
Draco watched as her shoulders began to shake. He walked up behind her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and kissing her temple. "It's okay," he soothed.
"No it's not!" she shouted. "That … that … thing was prepared for you to die, to pay for your father's failures."
"I know, Mother."
"And your father didn't lift a finger to do anything about it!"
"I'm sure he felt that he couldn't --"
"He was looking out for himself," she corrected Draco. "It's high time everyone stopped making excuses for his poor choices, and self-serving decisions. He'd said you were old enough to manage for yourself --"
"And I was!" Draco retorted. "I am."
"Grown men cowered before Voldemort."
"But I --"
"And that's why I will never forgive your father. And why I cannot bring myself to be devastated that he is now getting what he deserves. He made his bed. Anything that went before this has been tarnished. I supported him -- we supported each other -- during the war. I kept hoping that he would do something to help you. But that never happened. I lost all respect for him when he didn't move heaven and earth to save you."
She took his hand in her own and lifted it to her mouth. She pressed a small kiss on his palm, then rested her cheek there, a hint of a smile gracing her lips. "Draco, you are my son. My only child. There is nothing I wouldn't do to protect you. Nothing. Do you understand me?"
"I know, Mother." Oddly, though he felt that somehow he should take offence at her coddling, it made him feel good.
"You could be the most powerful wizard in the world, Draco, and I would still protect you. That's how it is for mothers. There's nothing you can say or do to change that."
He smiled at the woman before him, taking in the strength of her features, the determination of her jaw, and the fierce protectiveness shining in her eyes. She was truly the most beautiful woman he knew. "I wouldn't dare try."
June 1, 1998
"I don't believe it!" Draco exclaimed.
"What's that dear?" Narcissa asked.
Draco held up a piece of parchment he'd just opened. "They're not pressing charges," he explained. He hadn't realised just how anxious he'd been about the possibility of sharing a cell with his father. He absently rubbed his arm, a part of him still afraid that it might start to burn again.
"Oh, that's wonderful!" she said. Draco marvelled once again at her strength. They both knew she was still facing possible charges related to being a Death Eater -- even though she'd never been one -- or aiding and abetting the rest of them, since they had stayed at the manor. Still, she seemed genuinely pleased for Draco.
"Not a bad eighteenth birthday gift, I'd say."
June 10, 1998
Waving his wand over the strange package, Draco searched for hidden curses, before determining that it was safe. Then he had a house-elf open it, just to be certain. He'd received enough hate mail that he'd set wards to block such correspondence. But he was not so naïve as to believe no one would be able to get through, if they were smart enough and determined enough.
Inside the package was a hawthorn wand -- his wand -- and a note.
Malfoy,
I had wanted to deliver this in person, but with all the funerals and memorial services, and other things I've had to attend, I haven't had the chance.
The wand chooses the wizard I was told when I was a boy. This one chose you, so you should have it back. I figured you'd rather I return it by post than hold onto it for much longer.
HP
P.S. No, I did not put a tracking spell on it. Don't be so paranoid.
Draco laughed, despite the fact that it was Potter who'd sent the note. Paranoid or not, he cast his own series of spells to be sure Potter was telling the truth. Of course he was.
Draco penned a quick reply.
Potter,
I am in receipt of the wand. You were correct in presuming I would want it returned as soon as possible.
Thank you.
DM
P.S. Some people call that caution, not paranoia. Not all of us can survive a Killing Curse, you know.
July 3, 1998
"What on earth?" Draco exclaimed when an owl approached him, as he and Narcissa were enjoying their tea outside.
"Who is it from?" she asked after Draco had opened it.
"Harry Potter," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Oh?" she asked, a strange smirk on her face. "You didn't tell me you were corresponding with him."
Draco rolled his eyes. "I am not corresponding with him. This is the first contact we've had since he returned my wand."
"Pity. What does he want this time?"
Draco ignored her remark and focussed on the question. "He would like to come by at our convenience."
"Well, owl him back and invite him to dinner tomorrow."
Draco raised his eyebrows at his mother, but did as she suggested.
July 4, 1998
"Mister Harry Potter is sitting in the front room," the house-elf announced.
Narcissa couldn't have jumped out of her seat fast enough. Honestly! If she was going to start fawning all over the bloody git, Draco would have to do something about that, and fast.
"Mr Potter!" she greeted him.
"Call me Harry," he replied with a goofy grin. Then he took Narcissa's hand and kissed it. Kissed it! "Nice to see you looking so well, Mrs Malfoy."
"Do call me Narcissa."
"Very well, Narcissa." Then Potter smiled at her again.
Oh, for the love of Merlin! Draco thought. "Potter," he said, a warning in his tone that, admittedly, might be lost on Potter.
"Malfoy!" He stuck his hand out. Somewhat dumbstruck, Draco simply took Potter's hand and shook it. "Thanks for having me over," Potter said, as if Draco had had a choice.
"My mother suggested we invite you to dinner."
Potter's face fell a little at the words. Surely he wasn't disappointed. They'd never even had a pleasant exchange of words before. What had he expected?
"Ah," Potter said. "I see." He turned a smile to Narcissa, and something about that bothered Draco. For some reason, Draco wanted that smile directed back at him. Ridiculous, really. "Thank you, Narcissa. Dinner really isn't necessary."
"You said in your letter that you had something to discuss?" Draco interrupted.
"Draco, don't be rude," his mother admonished. "Would you like something to drink, Harry?" she asked.
The evening was … well … bizarre came to mind. They sat around the table making small talk, Potter telling Narcissa what a great job she did with the redecorating -- Draco had to admit she'd worked wonders -- and Narcissa congratulating Potter on the positive impact his support was for various charities. Surely she wasn't planning to --
"I was wondering," she began, a gleam in her eye and charm oozing out of her. It was all Draco could do not to laugh as he watched her skilfully manipulate Potter into agreeing to work on her favourite annual event.
"I am a member of several foundations. Each May, one of them hosts a Beltane celebration."
"Beltane?" Potter asked.
"It's an ancient Celtic festival of fire," Draco interjected. "In early May, to put it in simple terms, we welcome the summer and celebrate fertility."
"Of course, there's much more to it than that," Narcissa said. "I would like for next year's celebration to be spectacular. One to rival the one on Calton Hill in Scotland."
Potter looked confused. "What exactly does this have to do with me?"
"Well, I believe that, if your name were associated with next year's event, people would flock to it."
Draco watched Potter's body language, and noticed his discomfort immediately. Ever the practiced manipulator, his mother added, "I believe that it would be a wonderful opportunity to bring the wizarding world together again, bridge some of those divides that were cultivated by the war. Something positive to ground us."
Draco watched Potter's resistance crumble. His mother hadn't lost her touch. "Count me in," Potter agreed.
Narcissa beamed. "I'm sure you and Draco will enjoy working together."
Wait, what? What just happened? Rather than argue the matter, Draco opted for changing the subject and discussing later how he too had got roped into helping her.
"Not that this hasn't been delightful," Draco said, "but you said you had something to discuss?"
"Two things, actually. First, I've been trying to convince the Aurors not to pursue an investigation on you, Narcissa."
Draco's stomach clenched. "You're not saying --"
"No, no," Potter interjected, placing a calming hand on Draco's arm. It felt … nice. "They aren't pressing charges right now, but they are going to investigate. They've been focussing most of their attention on known Death Eaters, but they plan to move on next month. I wanted to forewarn you."
Narcissa gave a curt nod. Draco could sense her fear.
"But they sent me a letter just the other day, saying they weren't pursuing charges against me," Draco argued.
"Because of your age," Potter said. "That and the fact that Voldemort had threatened your parents and had taken over your house."
Narcissa narrowed her eyes, considering Potter for a moment. "You got them to drop the charges, didn't you?" she asked him.
Potter's face went pink. "Yes."
"Why?" Draco asked.
"Draco, honestly!" Narcissa admonished. "The appropriate response would be thank you."
"But …" Draco looked at Potter, confused. "You hate me."
"Not any more," he replied. And then Potter smiled at him -- a genuine smile Draco had never seen cast in his direction before -- and Draco knew it was true. That knowledge settled comfortably in his chest.
Potter turned to Narcissa and the moment was gone. "I told them how you saved my life," he said. "But they said they still had to investigate completely."
Draco watched his mother accept the news gracefully. "I appreciate your efforts," she said.
"I won't give up until I see this done," Potter promised.
"Thank you."
"It's the least I could do," he said. "The second thing I wanted to discuss is Professor Snape."
Draco and his mother exchanged equally confused looks. "Severus?" his mother asked.
Potter nodded and started to fidget. What could possibly make him so nervous all of a sudden?
"What about him?" Draco asked.
"I've located a portrait," he told them.
"I … I didn't realise he ever had one painted," Narcissa said.
Draco tried to imagine Severus sitting still while an artist painted his likeness. The image was incongruous in his mind. "He never struck me as the type to arrange a sitting for such a thing," Draco pointed out.
"No kidding," Potter laughed. "Could you picture that?"
Draco caught his mother's eye, and they shared an amused look. "No, I can't picture it," Draco agreed.
"I would pity any artist that asked him," Narcissa added.
"It seems the Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts are painted immediately upon appointment. On the most part, from what I've heard, the artist begins portraits from photographs, and then by observing the subject. There are no sittings as such, and the first portrait gets sent for review, all within one month of his or her appointment."
"And you only just found out about it?" Narcissa asked.
"Yes. I have it at my house now." Draco was sure his own face mirrored the look of shock on his mother's. In explanation, Potter added, "There seems to be some debate going on about having the portrait at Hogwarts … given the circumstances of Professor Snape's appointment."
Draco felt the blood rush to his face. "He was --"
"He is still under suspicion," Potter explained. "I've given evidence, but until they clear his name officially, I believe the portrait is best kept elsewhere."
Narcissa looked confused. "Why are you telling us this?" she asked.
"I thought, perhaps, you might like to keep the portrait here, with you, at least until they agree to hang it at the school where it belongs."
Draco was speechless. He looked at Potter, who seemed unsure of himself all of a sudden.
"Of course, if you'd prefer, I can keep the portrait at my house. I just thought … well … that it would be less of a shock for him if he woke up and saw people that he …"
"Liked?" Draco offered.
Potter laughed. "Yeah."
"We would be honoured to have the portrait," Narcissa said.
Potter let out a long, relieved sigh.
"Why do you care?" Draco asked, before he could stop himself.
"Draco!" Narcissa scolded.
Potter shrugged. "He spent most of his life alone," he explained. "He was a brave man who had to hide who he really was from everyone. I find that sad."
Draco frowned. "He was a bastard to you," he pointed out.
"Yeah, he was," Potter agreed. "I don't know if you knew this, but my dad and godfather were pretty lousy to him, so he took that out on me. Still …" Potter went quiet and he frowned. "Still, everyone deserves better than that. If he couldn't have that in life, maybe he can in his afterlife."
Draco nodded. He was sure there was a lot more to the story than Potter let on, but he wouldn't push … for now. It seemed that, like it or not, Draco would be seeing a fair bit of Potter in the future. He could even imagine having civil conversations with Potter, when he might ask about it, sometime in the future. In fact, he was looking forward to it.
March 15, 1999
"Beltane is less than two months away, Draco. Can we focus, please?"
"But you are such a delightful distraction," Draco told him.
"I can't believe I have to put up with the two of you!" Snape bellowed.
"Oh, please, Severus, what choice do you have?" Harry taunted him.
"Must I remind you yet again, Mr Potter, that at no time have I ever granted you leave to call me by my first name?"
"Lighten up, Sev."
"And you!" Severus huffed. "The cheek from you knows no bounds. Have some respect!"
Harry walked up behind Draco, wrapping his arms around Draco's waist, and nibbling at his neck. "You really shouldn't tease him like that," he said, his breath ghosting over Draco's ear. Draco shivered and leaned back.
"For the love of --" Severus complained. "Kindly refrain from such behaviour in my presence!"
Harry laughed. "Is it true what they say about the Beltane Festival?" he asked.
"What, pray tell, might that be?" Severus asked in a mocking tone.
"That while the fires are burning, the bodies are burning in an entirely different way, of course," Harry said. Draco snorted and gave him a playful slap on the arm.
"Argh!" Severus grunted. "My eyes! I did not need that visual of the two of you."
Draco and Harry both laughed. "That was so cruel, I think I'm impressed," Draco said. "Who knew you had some Slytherin in you?"
"Well, I don't right now," Harry said, winking at Draco. "But I hope to later on!"
The sound of banging coming from the portrait faded quickly as they made a hasty retreat to Draco's bedroom. Draco couldn't ever remember looking this forward to the arrival of Beltane before.