Simply Love
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling and various publishers. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Pairing: Harry X Draco
Summary: Draco had planned a perfect Christmas for Harry. Yet, a chance of fortune had left him with no money. Is love alone enough?
Rating: Teen
Note: this is my entry for lover100 challenge: no 96. Author choice: gift. This story is un-beta-ed, so I apologized in advance for any mistake you will find. I really wanted to post it on Christmas day, since I tried to make a story for all the twelve days of Christmas (originally, I wanted to do one for everyday towards Xmas from 1st December) and between working at day and studying for GRE exam at my spare time, I am really running out of time and just finished it today. Hopefully, I can really make twelve =p. So, please, bear with me, and enjoy the fanfic. Merry Christmas!
Simply Love
His room at the Leaky was a far cry from his bedroom at the manor. The old, wooden floor creaked with every footstep he took and sent the chill to his limbs. The sheet was coarse and the bed was hard. Yet, for once, there were more things to bother Draco Malfoy than his discomfort.
He had had great plans. There would be a big Christmas’ tree, as big as the one his father put every year at the Manor’s living room. He even had imagined ordering the baubles from the same craft store his mother did. Granted, each of the white, shimmering, snow baubles could probably feed the entire Weasley’s clan for a week, but he never saw another one as good as that. Then he would charm some candle to hover around the tree. The fragrance, Elf-made candle that was his grandmother’s favorite. Still, it would make the tree simply silver and green, which while fine for his family, was unacceptable on Godric Hollow. So he would add some hovering golden snitches and small, ruby bells.
Draco had also made a list of the gifts. There was a new broom at Quality Quidditch Supplies which would put a sizeable dent to the purchaser’s Gringot account. Still, it was advertised as the fastest and moreover, equipped with new and guaranteed safety charm. With the way Harry flown, there were never enough safety charms available. It was also a bonus that he knew Harry had been secretly eyeing the broom every time they went to Quality Quidditch Supplies.
Then there were the new robes from his favorite tailor. Harry had never been one to care about how he looked; way too naïve, in Draco’s not-humble-at-all opinion. After all, Hogwarts was over and working in the ministry like Harry did, there would be parties and events Harry couldn’t avoid, a chance to hand rubbing and smiling at all the right people. What else would this people based their first judgments of him, someone they only knew the name of, if not from his appearance? As Lucius Malfoy’s son, Draco understood that perfectly. So, he had decided to take the matter into his hands. The clothes would be perfectly made, not too big (like Dudley’s cast off), nor too small (like when Harry ransacked Draco’s wardrobe). It would also be made from soft, luxurious material (unlike Harry’s off-the-rack’s clothes) and with tasteful style (in opposite of Mrs.Weasley’s annual sweaters). In retrospect, maybe it was a good thing Draco had delayed his ordering - he had wanted to be sure of this winter fashion - because then he had no galleon to even pay for a sleeve of those clothes.
He had also set his eyes on a set of Defense books he had found on the Knockturn Alley, a pretty set with hardcover and box. Although to be honest, maybe the books were more of defense against defense of the dark art than defense against the dark art. Still, Harry was an auror and Draco knew that there was truth on the old saying about knowing your enemies. He had asked the shopkeeper to keep it for him and he had to cancel it.
Draco rubbed his eyes tiredly. He knew that Goyle wouldn’t be angry with him. Still, he really wanted Harry to have those books. Loathed as he was to admit it, whenever Harry was away on an assignment, he couldn’t have but becoming nervous. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in Harry’s ability. After all, Harry did kill Voldemort. Unfortunately, he also knew way too many dark curses and hexes to be able to stand waiting comfortably. His fertile imagination kept on shaping new ways and possibilities that something could happen to Harry.
The last item on his discarded list was Harry’s favorite Honeyduke’s chocolates. He was the one who had introduced Harry to the dark, butterbeer filled chocolates on Harry’s birthday and ever since, Harry had always picked up a box every time he went to Hogsmade. Harry’s sweet tooth was unquestionable, so he had thought of buying a dozen or so boxes. It was just another thing that had to be cancelled.
Closing his eyes, Draco replayed the fated, disastrous conversation that had led him to his current knutless condition on his mind.
“I am quite sure I had misheard you,” Lucius said, coldly. “Can you repeat who is your special guest?”
Draco hid his shaking hands on his pockets. Even then, losing his power on the post Voldemort-war world and aged by time served in Azkaban, he was still intimidated by his father.
Yet, he said defiantly, “I wanted to invite Harry. I won’t invite Astoria. I am not in love with her.”
“In love indeed!” mocked Lucius. He turned back and watched Draco’s face carefully, making Draco felt like a trapped insect.
Then, stalking towards his son, Lucius hollered, “Have you forgotten your duty to the family? Have you forgotten that Potter was the one who brought ruin to our family?”
“It is not Harry’s fault. Besides, I thought that you would be please. After all, right now, being linked with Harry couldn’t hurt our family. In fact, it will open quite a few doors,”
Draco hoped that his voice wasn’t quivering. He had never acted against his father’s wish before, not even on the post-war world, after he understood that his father was not the all wise all knowing wizard his younger self had believed. Yet then, there, he was rebelling for Harry.
He had no delusion that giving testimonies that had freed his mother and he from Azkaban would be enough to endear Harry to his father. The feud between them ran deep and long, after all. Still, he had hoped that appealing to his father Slytherin’s side would work.
“And what did you think people will say about our family? That we are desperate enough we sent you to become the Potter boy’s prostitute?” asked Lucius. Draco could hear the rage in his voice still, dashing his hopes.
“Harry loves me,” he protested. He knew he should be calm and continued listing the benefit of being related to Harry Potter, but somehow it became the first and foremost thing that popped up into his mind. His father’s jab had sunk it hooked into the insecurities he hid.
“So he said and maybe so he believed,”
“He really did,” Draco tried not to think about who he wanted to convince at this point.
“Say that he did. Do you think that it is enough? Love won’t provide food on the table nor making you the Ministry of Magic,”
The sneer on Lucius’ face was mocking. If he was not so occupied himself, Draco would spare a question: did that mean you never love mother as well, father?
“It saved Harry’s life,” he said instead.
“It won’t save our family!”
Draco had no reply for that. While he knew that Harry had influence and connection, he also knew that swaying the opinion of the majority of wizarding society would take more than just a person’s words, even if said person was its much applauded hero. It was also, of course, given that Harry would want to help. He had no illusion that Harry’s distaste for using his fame would exclude his family. If any, his father’s hatred towards Harry was more than mutual.
Lucius took a moment to compose himself and take a breath.
“Fine, I’ll give you choices. You may continue your dalliance with that boy, but if you choose to do so, you better hope he wants to give you the name Potter because you won’t be Malfoy any longer. Let’s see whether you can still sprout out this love nonsense, without the Malfoy’s vault at your beck and call,”
Unfortunately, his father was right. Draco knew that without his money, he could do nothing, not even giving Harry a perfect Christmas.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Draco looked at the content of his cauldron with distaste. It reflected his mood perfectly, black and lumpy instead of the thin silvery colors it should be.
Worse, he didn’t know what was wrong with it since he had been forced to change his ingredients in a hurry. The original recipe he made had used many of rare, expensive ingredients that he couldn’t afford anymore.
When he created this formula, he had used his complete, potion-master-standard laboratory at the manor. A far cry from this used, cracked cauldron and student-standard-kit he had in his disposal at that time.
He felt like throwing a tantrum, stomping his feet and screaming out loud.
Draco was tired, he had worked non-stop for that blasted potion. He was also hungry, since he had scale down his meals down to porridge at the morning and dinner to save money for the ingredients. Of course, if he went to Harry’s house, he could get whatever food he wanted. Even imagining it had made his mouth watered. Harry, for all his inability to make potion, was a marvelous cook. Moreover, Harry was always more than willing to cook whatever food Draco demanded, even if it made him had to learn a new recipe.
He shook his head. It was not the time to think about it. Christmas was three more days and he had a present to boil.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
The ten vials had been filled and sealed. The only item he could salvage from his doomed list, although he was forced to downgrade it drastically. Worse, even him unsure whether it would work or not, considering said changes he had been forced to make.
Would Harry turn him out the door, if he showed up with only that box?
Not for the first time since his change of circumstance Draco wondered whether love really was enough. That was, provided that Harry had loved him and still did then.
Draco knew Harry was not him, but still, to appear without presents, lots and lots of presents, was something he couldn’t imagine before. Yet, he had never live without Malfoy’s vault at his disposal as well before.
He had really wanted to give Harry the best Christmas ever. When did all go wrong? Could his father be right?
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Seeing the number of presents under Harry’s Christmas tree, Draco had almost turned back and apparated away. There were bunches of brightly wrapped gifts. In comparison, his own gift, wrapped simply on the old Daily Prophet Tom had given him, seemed cheap and insignificant. Even the Weasleys’ offerings were better than his.
He couldn’t help but casted his eyes on said mount over and over during their dinner. He felt even worse, when his eyes caught a few gifts with his name on their tags, written in Harry’s hand. More than once, Harry was forced to repeat what he said, since Draco was too distracted to pay any attention on it.
“Draco, do you have any other place you have to be tonight?” asked Harry, after the fourteenth time he caught Draco’s mind wandering.
“Huh?” putting his cutleries on the plate, Draco lifted his head in confusion.
“Your mind is wandering away. You shouldn’t accept my invitation if you don’t want to spend tonight with me,” there’s a bit of annoyance on his voice. He had worked so hard to make this a perfect night for them and then Draco had fidgeted all the time, as if he couldn’t stand to stay a minute longer.
“What? No Harry, it’s not like that,” Draco hurriedly answered.
“Are you sure? Just be honest, Draco. Do you have an affair?”
“An affair? Where did that one come from? Don’t be silly,”
Draco tried to act flippantly. There’s an anger lying under Harry’s voice that somehow made him afraid, even when he didn’t understand why. Or maybe he did understand and simply didn’t want to admit it.
“Oh, silly, am I?” He stood so fast the chair toppled down. He couldn’t take them anymore, Draco’s lies.
“What then, should I think, when you refused invitation by invitation that I owled to go out together? Or when you devised those stupid reasons for not coming to my house? Or when you didn’t reply my owl for days and forbad me from contacting you via floo? I am not an auror for nothing, Malfoy. Don’t take me as a blind, love struck idiot!”
He spoke the words so fast and so loud that it left him breathless at the end. Harry realized he was shouting then but he didn’t care. He had had enough.
“I didn’t…”
“Shut it, Malfoy. You can’t even have a dinner with me without having your mind running away,”
Detachedly, he thought about how good of an actor Malfoy was. Malfoy, not Draco. The man sitting on his dining chair was more like the manipulative, annoying jerk he knew at school than his boyfriend of ten months after all.
How could Malfoy do that? He was the guilty one there and he acted so innocently, from his big, frightened eyes to the could-hardly-be-seen quivers on his hands. It was as if Harry was the one on the wrong and he was the victim.
Still, he should know better, shouldn’t he? After all, this was Malfoy, the epitome of Slytherin.
“I am not! I am just distracted,” Even Draco understood that his defense was somewhat weak, but the other alternative was to tell the truth and he wasn’t ready to do it.
“Yes, by your other boyfriend. Or should I say boyfriends?”
The mocking tone, Draco decided, was unsuitable for Harry. Harry was kindness and smile and warm, at least for those that he held in regards. Draco was included on that category, wasn’t he?
“Harry…” He tried to plead one more time.
Suddenly Harry felt so tired. Why did they argue anyway? Ron and Hermione were right; their relationship was doomed from the beginning. He rubbed his eyes and turned his back.
“I am tired, Draco. Maybe we should just call it over,”
On that moment, Draco understood clearly where his fears come from. Once upon a time, he was the royal and Harry was the pauper. Yet things had changed. Harry was the prince, revered and adored, while he, his family’s name worth less than a knut and people shut the door on his face. Depth down, he couldn’t believe Harry really wanted him. Oh for that moment, yes, but for long term arrangement, doubtful. Moreover, he was broke then.
Harry had always talked about how impressed he was with his first pile of Christmas’ present and the Burrow’s celebration or Hogwarts’ Christmas trees. It wasn’t that Harry was shallow. Harry was simply deserved better things than a homemade potions and nothing else.
Still, Draco realized that at that moment, truth was probably the only thing that would stop Harry from throwing him out. He didn’t want to lose Harry.
“I’ve been disinherited,” he said quietly.
“What?” Harry turned around so quickly he felt dizzy.
“My father cut me off the Malfoy’s vault. I only had a handful of galleons and I had stayed at the Leaky for this last month,”
Draco bowed his head. He couldn’t face Harry’s eyes, not after Harry knew that he was worth even less then.
“Why don’t you tell me this before?”
Draco shrugged, still avoiding Harry’s eyes.
Yet, when he felt Harry’s fingers framed his checks and lifted his face, he couldn’t hide any longer. Harry had knelt down beside his chair and their faces were so closed together, Draco felt like drowning on Harry’s green, way too big eyes.
“The truth, Draco, why?”
“I don’t know,”
Harry said nothing, waiting.
“I really don’t know. Maybe I was afraid, now that I got less money than Weasel. Can you imagine that? Me, poorer than the Weasel? Maybe I was afraid than you will see me differently. Maybe I don’t want you …”
Draco’s voice trailed off. He couldn’t stand the silent, but he didn’t intend to tell Harry that much.
The next thing he knew, the warm fingers had disappeared from his face and Harry abruptly stood up.
“Don’t want me, what? And I thought you trust me more than that! Do you honestly think that money is why I care about you? How dare you to insult me like that! Oh, I forgot, of course the great Draco Malfoy dare!”
Draco’s answered riled him up again. What did Draco think he was? Did Draco thought that Harry only became his lover for money? He had honestly believed that Draco had changed. He was a fool. Draco was still an egocentric, proud boy as before.
“It is not what I mean!”
Draco stood up and shouted. No one, no one, could twist his words like Harry did. He had been honest to Harry. Gryffindor supposed to rewards honesty, didn’t they?
“And why didn’t you ask me for help? I will help you!”
“That kind of defeating the purpose of not telling you at the first place, doesn’t it?”
“I see…it is your stupid, fucking pride, isn’t it? With you it is always about pride…,”
The mocking voice was back and that time, Draco just wanted to stop fighting. Harry had never understood.
“Yes, I know, stupid pride and stupid me. But what else I have left now?”
Something in Draco’s defeated voice doused Harry’s anger.
“Draco…”
He did something he should have done from the beginning: paying attention to Draco, really paying attention. Draco was thinner. He was always pointy, but then his cheekbones were even more pronounced. Stripped of his mask and attitude, he could also see bags under Draco’s eyes and the tiredness on his face.
It couldn’t be easy, having everything you wanted to have while growing up and suddenly hardly able buying even a decent meal. Harry had stayed at the Leaky enough time to know that the room must be dreadful for Draco.
He moved back to Draco side and kneeled back down.
“You should have told me. I would offer you to stay here. This house is too big for me alone anyway,”
Harry said softly. His only answered was the fall of Draco’s head into his shoulder. Still, something confused him. He was not a big fan of Lucius Malfoy. Hell, he couldn’t even tolerate that man. Yet, he couldn’t erase the picture of the three Malfoys huddled together after the war as well. Lucius Malfoy loved his son.
“But, why did your father disown you? You are his only son! And your mother, surely she wouldn’t let him do that,”
Draco was quite content with staying like that forever. Harry was warm and didn’t angry anymore and looked like still like him even though he was penniless. Yet, Harry’s question took him back to the reality.
He didn’t know how to answer that question. Harry was famous for killing Voldemort. Harry was also famous for his hero complex and guilt complex. Fear came back to Draco’s heart. How if after he told him, Harry would only stay with him out of obligation.
Still, Draco’s silent was answer enough for Harry. Suddenly, he understood.
“It had something to do with me, isn’t it? That’s one of the reason you don’t want to tell me,”
There’s still no answer, which somehow, had convinced Harry further.
“It is, isn’t it?”
“Father got angry when I refused the marriage deal he arranged for me and told him that I wanted to bring you along for the Christmas dinner at the manor,” Draco mumbled.
A warm suffused through Harry’s body. He felt like losing words although his throat was so full of them.
“You stupid, arrogant, ornery, adorable Slytherin,”
He squeezed Draco tightly. Then, something popped up on his mind.
Putting Draco on arm’s length so he could see Draco’s face despite the incoherent sound of protest Draco made, he asked, “Is it what you thought about just now?”
“I can’t give you a perfect Christmas,”
“A perfect Christmas?” asked Harry. What did Draco mean by a perfect Christmas?
“You said it yourself, didn’t you? How you always wanted to be Dudley when you were a kid, having a lot of presents under a big, prettily decorated tree. Don’t deny it; I have seen how you devoured the photos of my childhood’s Christmases at the manor,”
“So you planned to arrange one for me,” then, the picture was complete for Harry.
“Yes, but without access to my vault, there’s no way I can give you one,” the admission was bitter.
“But you brought me present,”
He knew for sure about this since he had seen Draco put down the present secretly when he came. Did Draco squandered his meal‘s money for buying him a present?
“Present, singular,”
“Have you bought this one in advance?” He hoped Draco had. The thought of Draco not eating enough so that he could afford a present made Harry’s heart ached.
“I made it myself,”
“You made it yourself? Can I open it now?”
Without waiting for Draco’s nod, Harry stood up and fetched the present. He wondered what Draco had made for him, since he knew well enough to say that Draco and crafts were mortal enemies. Then he moved to sit on the sofa and opened it meticulously. The wrapper was old Daily Prophet. He had thought before that it was maybe some kind of trend statement. He knew better then.
Still, he couldn’t bear to tear it down. Draco, after all, had wrapped it himself. He knew that the usual for Draco was to ask the house elves to do that.
Inside was an ordinary, cardboard box. When Harry lifted the lid, ten vials of silvery, grey liquid came into his view.
Turning his head to face his boyfriend, Harry asked, “What are these for?”
Draco, who had moved to sit beside Harry on the sofa, couldn’t stop his feet to tap the floor all the while. He was, shameful as it was, nervous.
“It is for your hair. It supposed to make them tamable and flat. I don’t know whether it will work or not, though. I was forced to downgrade the equipment and substitute a number of its ingredient,”
Smiling widely, Harry said, “This is brilliant! Thank you so much,”
“Don’t lie, Harry. I know you didn’t think it is important to conquer the bird nest you called hair. Besides, there is fifty percent chance it won’t work anyway,”
No, there’s no way Harry would really like it better than the mountain of presents he hadn’t opened yet. Harry was simply too nice to say otherwise.
“No, this is brilliant, because you design and made it yourself. This is the best present I had this year,”
“This is one lousy, cheap present,” the tone was self disparaging and it made Harry longed to convince Draco that it was absolutely not.
“Draco, I love you. And every time I used this present, I will remember that you love me,”
“Don’t put words into my mouth, Potter!” yet, the blush on his cheeks and the kiss he gave Harry afterwards bellied his harsh words.
It lasted shorter than usual and Draco attributed his lack of breath to his tiredness. Still, moving his face so it would be hidden on the crooks of Harry’s neck without extricated himself from Harry’s arms, Draco thought that it was no less sweet.
“Is it enough?” mumbled Draco.
“What is enough?” Harry asked back. Moments like those were his favorite of all. For someone so full of angles, Draco was very cuddly. He had to remember to fatten him up though, since Draco was too thin for his liking then.
“Love, you said that I love you. Will love alone be enough?” his voice was so small that had Harry not strained his ears, he wouldn’t hear it. It was again all that he had been taught to show a weakness so apparent.
Still, Harry’s tightened hug was enough of an answer for Draco, even before he heard Harry said.
“More than enough,”
END
Pairing: Harry X Draco
Summary: Draco had planned a perfect Christmas for Harry. Yet, a chance of fortune had left him with no money. Is love alone enough?
Rating: Teen
Note: this is my entry for lover100 challenge: no 96. Author choice: gift. This story is un-beta-ed, so I apologized in advance for any mistake you will find. I really wanted to post it on Christmas day, since I tried to make a story for all the twelve days of Christmas (originally, I wanted to do one for everyday towards Xmas from 1st December) and between working at day and studying for GRE exam at my spare time, I am really running out of time and just finished it today. Hopefully, I can really make twelve =p. So, please, bear with me, and enjoy the fanfic. Merry Christmas!
Simply Love
His room at the Leaky was a far cry from his bedroom at the manor. The old, wooden floor creaked with every footstep he took and sent the chill to his limbs. The sheet was coarse and the bed was hard. Yet, for once, there were more things to bother Draco Malfoy than his discomfort.
He had had great plans. There would be a big Christmas’ tree, as big as the one his father put every year at the Manor’s living room. He even had imagined ordering the baubles from the same craft store his mother did. Granted, each of the white, shimmering, snow baubles could probably feed the entire Weasley’s clan for a week, but he never saw another one as good as that. Then he would charm some candle to hover around the tree. The fragrance, Elf-made candle that was his grandmother’s favorite. Still, it would make the tree simply silver and green, which while fine for his family, was unacceptable on Godric Hollow. So he would add some hovering golden snitches and small, ruby bells.
Draco had also made a list of the gifts. There was a new broom at Quality Quidditch Supplies which would put a sizeable dent to the purchaser’s Gringot account. Still, it was advertised as the fastest and moreover, equipped with new and guaranteed safety charm. With the way Harry flown, there were never enough safety charms available. It was also a bonus that he knew Harry had been secretly eyeing the broom every time they went to Quality Quidditch Supplies.
Then there were the new robes from his favorite tailor. Harry had never been one to care about how he looked; way too naïve, in Draco’s not-humble-at-all opinion. After all, Hogwarts was over and working in the ministry like Harry did, there would be parties and events Harry couldn’t avoid, a chance to hand rubbing and smiling at all the right people. What else would this people based their first judgments of him, someone they only knew the name of, if not from his appearance? As Lucius Malfoy’s son, Draco understood that perfectly. So, he had decided to take the matter into his hands. The clothes would be perfectly made, not too big (like Dudley’s cast off), nor too small (like when Harry ransacked Draco’s wardrobe). It would also be made from soft, luxurious material (unlike Harry’s off-the-rack’s clothes) and with tasteful style (in opposite of Mrs.Weasley’s annual sweaters). In retrospect, maybe it was a good thing Draco had delayed his ordering - he had wanted to be sure of this winter fashion - because then he had no galleon to even pay for a sleeve of those clothes.
He had also set his eyes on a set of Defense books he had found on the Knockturn Alley, a pretty set with hardcover and box. Although to be honest, maybe the books were more of defense against defense of the dark art than defense against the dark art. Still, Harry was an auror and Draco knew that there was truth on the old saying about knowing your enemies. He had asked the shopkeeper to keep it for him and he had to cancel it.
Draco rubbed his eyes tiredly. He knew that Goyle wouldn’t be angry with him. Still, he really wanted Harry to have those books. Loathed as he was to admit it, whenever Harry was away on an assignment, he couldn’t have but becoming nervous. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in Harry’s ability. After all, Harry did kill Voldemort. Unfortunately, he also knew way too many dark curses and hexes to be able to stand waiting comfortably. His fertile imagination kept on shaping new ways and possibilities that something could happen to Harry.
The last item on his discarded list was Harry’s favorite Honeyduke’s chocolates. He was the one who had introduced Harry to the dark, butterbeer filled chocolates on Harry’s birthday and ever since, Harry had always picked up a box every time he went to Hogsmade. Harry’s sweet tooth was unquestionable, so he had thought of buying a dozen or so boxes. It was just another thing that had to be cancelled.
Closing his eyes, Draco replayed the fated, disastrous conversation that had led him to his current knutless condition on his mind.
“I am quite sure I had misheard you,” Lucius said, coldly. “Can you repeat who is your special guest?”
Draco hid his shaking hands on his pockets. Even then, losing his power on the post Voldemort-war world and aged by time served in Azkaban, he was still intimidated by his father.
Yet, he said defiantly, “I wanted to invite Harry. I won’t invite Astoria. I am not in love with her.”
“In love indeed!” mocked Lucius. He turned back and watched Draco’s face carefully, making Draco felt like a trapped insect.
Then, stalking towards his son, Lucius hollered, “Have you forgotten your duty to the family? Have you forgotten that Potter was the one who brought ruin to our family?”
“It is not Harry’s fault. Besides, I thought that you would be please. After all, right now, being linked with Harry couldn’t hurt our family. In fact, it will open quite a few doors,”
Draco hoped that his voice wasn’t quivering. He had never acted against his father’s wish before, not even on the post-war world, after he understood that his father was not the all wise all knowing wizard his younger self had believed. Yet then, there, he was rebelling for Harry.
He had no delusion that giving testimonies that had freed his mother and he from Azkaban would be enough to endear Harry to his father. The feud between them ran deep and long, after all. Still, he had hoped that appealing to his father Slytherin’s side would work.
“And what did you think people will say about our family? That we are desperate enough we sent you to become the Potter boy’s prostitute?” asked Lucius. Draco could hear the rage in his voice still, dashing his hopes.
“Harry loves me,” he protested. He knew he should be calm and continued listing the benefit of being related to Harry Potter, but somehow it became the first and foremost thing that popped up into his mind. His father’s jab had sunk it hooked into the insecurities he hid.
“So he said and maybe so he believed,”
“He really did,” Draco tried not to think about who he wanted to convince at this point.
“Say that he did. Do you think that it is enough? Love won’t provide food on the table nor making you the Ministry of Magic,”
The sneer on Lucius’ face was mocking. If he was not so occupied himself, Draco would spare a question: did that mean you never love mother as well, father?
“It saved Harry’s life,” he said instead.
“It won’t save our family!”
Draco had no reply for that. While he knew that Harry had influence and connection, he also knew that swaying the opinion of the majority of wizarding society would take more than just a person’s words, even if said person was its much applauded hero. It was also, of course, given that Harry would want to help. He had no illusion that Harry’s distaste for using his fame would exclude his family. If any, his father’s hatred towards Harry was more than mutual.
Lucius took a moment to compose himself and take a breath.
“Fine, I’ll give you choices. You may continue your dalliance with that boy, but if you choose to do so, you better hope he wants to give you the name Potter because you won’t be Malfoy any longer. Let’s see whether you can still sprout out this love nonsense, without the Malfoy’s vault at your beck and call,”
Unfortunately, his father was right. Draco knew that without his money, he could do nothing, not even giving Harry a perfect Christmas.
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Draco looked at the content of his cauldron with distaste. It reflected his mood perfectly, black and lumpy instead of the thin silvery colors it should be.
Worse, he didn’t know what was wrong with it since he had been forced to change his ingredients in a hurry. The original recipe he made had used many of rare, expensive ingredients that he couldn’t afford anymore.
When he created this formula, he had used his complete, potion-master-standard laboratory at the manor. A far cry from this used, cracked cauldron and student-standard-kit he had in his disposal at that time.
He felt like throwing a tantrum, stomping his feet and screaming out loud.
Draco was tired, he had worked non-stop for that blasted potion. He was also hungry, since he had scale down his meals down to porridge at the morning and dinner to save money for the ingredients. Of course, if he went to Harry’s house, he could get whatever food he wanted. Even imagining it had made his mouth watered. Harry, for all his inability to make potion, was a marvelous cook. Moreover, Harry was always more than willing to cook whatever food Draco demanded, even if it made him had to learn a new recipe.
He shook his head. It was not the time to think about it. Christmas was three more days and he had a present to boil.
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The ten vials had been filled and sealed. The only item he could salvage from his doomed list, although he was forced to downgrade it drastically. Worse, even him unsure whether it would work or not, considering said changes he had been forced to make.
Would Harry turn him out the door, if he showed up with only that box?
Not for the first time since his change of circumstance Draco wondered whether love really was enough. That was, provided that Harry had loved him and still did then.
Draco knew Harry was not him, but still, to appear without presents, lots and lots of presents, was something he couldn’t imagine before. Yet, he had never live without Malfoy’s vault at his disposal as well before.
He had really wanted to give Harry the best Christmas ever. When did all go wrong? Could his father be right?
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Seeing the number of presents under Harry’s Christmas tree, Draco had almost turned back and apparated away. There were bunches of brightly wrapped gifts. In comparison, his own gift, wrapped simply on the old Daily Prophet Tom had given him, seemed cheap and insignificant. Even the Weasleys’ offerings were better than his.
He couldn’t help but casted his eyes on said mount over and over during their dinner. He felt even worse, when his eyes caught a few gifts with his name on their tags, written in Harry’s hand. More than once, Harry was forced to repeat what he said, since Draco was too distracted to pay any attention on it.
“Draco, do you have any other place you have to be tonight?” asked Harry, after the fourteenth time he caught Draco’s mind wandering.
“Huh?” putting his cutleries on the plate, Draco lifted his head in confusion.
“Your mind is wandering away. You shouldn’t accept my invitation if you don’t want to spend tonight with me,” there’s a bit of annoyance on his voice. He had worked so hard to make this a perfect night for them and then Draco had fidgeted all the time, as if he couldn’t stand to stay a minute longer.
“What? No Harry, it’s not like that,” Draco hurriedly answered.
“Are you sure? Just be honest, Draco. Do you have an affair?”
“An affair? Where did that one come from? Don’t be silly,”
Draco tried to act flippantly. There’s an anger lying under Harry’s voice that somehow made him afraid, even when he didn’t understand why. Or maybe he did understand and simply didn’t want to admit it.
“Oh, silly, am I?” He stood so fast the chair toppled down. He couldn’t take them anymore, Draco’s lies.
“What then, should I think, when you refused invitation by invitation that I owled to go out together? Or when you devised those stupid reasons for not coming to my house? Or when you didn’t reply my owl for days and forbad me from contacting you via floo? I am not an auror for nothing, Malfoy. Don’t take me as a blind, love struck idiot!”
He spoke the words so fast and so loud that it left him breathless at the end. Harry realized he was shouting then but he didn’t care. He had had enough.
“I didn’t…”
“Shut it, Malfoy. You can’t even have a dinner with me without having your mind running away,”
Detachedly, he thought about how good of an actor Malfoy was. Malfoy, not Draco. The man sitting on his dining chair was more like the manipulative, annoying jerk he knew at school than his boyfriend of ten months after all.
How could Malfoy do that? He was the guilty one there and he acted so innocently, from his big, frightened eyes to the could-hardly-be-seen quivers on his hands. It was as if Harry was the one on the wrong and he was the victim.
Still, he should know better, shouldn’t he? After all, this was Malfoy, the epitome of Slytherin.
“I am not! I am just distracted,” Even Draco understood that his defense was somewhat weak, but the other alternative was to tell the truth and he wasn’t ready to do it.
“Yes, by your other boyfriend. Or should I say boyfriends?”
The mocking tone, Draco decided, was unsuitable for Harry. Harry was kindness and smile and warm, at least for those that he held in regards. Draco was included on that category, wasn’t he?
“Harry…” He tried to plead one more time.
Suddenly Harry felt so tired. Why did they argue anyway? Ron and Hermione were right; their relationship was doomed from the beginning. He rubbed his eyes and turned his back.
“I am tired, Draco. Maybe we should just call it over,”
On that moment, Draco understood clearly where his fears come from. Once upon a time, he was the royal and Harry was the pauper. Yet things had changed. Harry was the prince, revered and adored, while he, his family’s name worth less than a knut and people shut the door on his face. Depth down, he couldn’t believe Harry really wanted him. Oh for that moment, yes, but for long term arrangement, doubtful. Moreover, he was broke then.
Harry had always talked about how impressed he was with his first pile of Christmas’ present and the Burrow’s celebration or Hogwarts’ Christmas trees. It wasn’t that Harry was shallow. Harry was simply deserved better things than a homemade potions and nothing else.
Still, Draco realized that at that moment, truth was probably the only thing that would stop Harry from throwing him out. He didn’t want to lose Harry.
“I’ve been disinherited,” he said quietly.
“What?” Harry turned around so quickly he felt dizzy.
“My father cut me off the Malfoy’s vault. I only had a handful of galleons and I had stayed at the Leaky for this last month,”
Draco bowed his head. He couldn’t face Harry’s eyes, not after Harry knew that he was worth even less then.
“Why don’t you tell me this before?”
Draco shrugged, still avoiding Harry’s eyes.
Yet, when he felt Harry’s fingers framed his checks and lifted his face, he couldn’t hide any longer. Harry had knelt down beside his chair and their faces were so closed together, Draco felt like drowning on Harry’s green, way too big eyes.
“The truth, Draco, why?”
“I don’t know,”
Harry said nothing, waiting.
“I really don’t know. Maybe I was afraid, now that I got less money than Weasel. Can you imagine that? Me, poorer than the Weasel? Maybe I was afraid than you will see me differently. Maybe I don’t want you …”
Draco’s voice trailed off. He couldn’t stand the silent, but he didn’t intend to tell Harry that much.
The next thing he knew, the warm fingers had disappeared from his face and Harry abruptly stood up.
“Don’t want me, what? And I thought you trust me more than that! Do you honestly think that money is why I care about you? How dare you to insult me like that! Oh, I forgot, of course the great Draco Malfoy dare!”
Draco’s answered riled him up again. What did Draco think he was? Did Draco thought that Harry only became his lover for money? He had honestly believed that Draco had changed. He was a fool. Draco was still an egocentric, proud boy as before.
“It is not what I mean!”
Draco stood up and shouted. No one, no one, could twist his words like Harry did. He had been honest to Harry. Gryffindor supposed to rewards honesty, didn’t they?
“And why didn’t you ask me for help? I will help you!”
“That kind of defeating the purpose of not telling you at the first place, doesn’t it?”
“I see…it is your stupid, fucking pride, isn’t it? With you it is always about pride…,”
The mocking voice was back and that time, Draco just wanted to stop fighting. Harry had never understood.
“Yes, I know, stupid pride and stupid me. But what else I have left now?”
Something in Draco’s defeated voice doused Harry’s anger.
“Draco…”
He did something he should have done from the beginning: paying attention to Draco, really paying attention. Draco was thinner. He was always pointy, but then his cheekbones were even more pronounced. Stripped of his mask and attitude, he could also see bags under Draco’s eyes and the tiredness on his face.
It couldn’t be easy, having everything you wanted to have while growing up and suddenly hardly able buying even a decent meal. Harry had stayed at the Leaky enough time to know that the room must be dreadful for Draco.
He moved back to Draco side and kneeled back down.
“You should have told me. I would offer you to stay here. This house is too big for me alone anyway,”
Harry said softly. His only answered was the fall of Draco’s head into his shoulder. Still, something confused him. He was not a big fan of Lucius Malfoy. Hell, he couldn’t even tolerate that man. Yet, he couldn’t erase the picture of the three Malfoys huddled together after the war as well. Lucius Malfoy loved his son.
“But, why did your father disown you? You are his only son! And your mother, surely she wouldn’t let him do that,”
Draco was quite content with staying like that forever. Harry was warm and didn’t angry anymore and looked like still like him even though he was penniless. Yet, Harry’s question took him back to the reality.
He didn’t know how to answer that question. Harry was famous for killing Voldemort. Harry was also famous for his hero complex and guilt complex. Fear came back to Draco’s heart. How if after he told him, Harry would only stay with him out of obligation.
Still, Draco’s silent was answer enough for Harry. Suddenly, he understood.
“It had something to do with me, isn’t it? That’s one of the reason you don’t want to tell me,”
There’s still no answer, which somehow, had convinced Harry further.
“It is, isn’t it?”
“Father got angry when I refused the marriage deal he arranged for me and told him that I wanted to bring you along for the Christmas dinner at the manor,” Draco mumbled.
A warm suffused through Harry’s body. He felt like losing words although his throat was so full of them.
“You stupid, arrogant, ornery, adorable Slytherin,”
He squeezed Draco tightly. Then, something popped up on his mind.
Putting Draco on arm’s length so he could see Draco’s face despite the incoherent sound of protest Draco made, he asked, “Is it what you thought about just now?”
“I can’t give you a perfect Christmas,”
“A perfect Christmas?” asked Harry. What did Draco mean by a perfect Christmas?
“You said it yourself, didn’t you? How you always wanted to be Dudley when you were a kid, having a lot of presents under a big, prettily decorated tree. Don’t deny it; I have seen how you devoured the photos of my childhood’s Christmases at the manor,”
“So you planned to arrange one for me,” then, the picture was complete for Harry.
“Yes, but without access to my vault, there’s no way I can give you one,” the admission was bitter.
“But you brought me present,”
He knew for sure about this since he had seen Draco put down the present secretly when he came. Did Draco squandered his meal‘s money for buying him a present?
“Present, singular,”
“Have you bought this one in advance?” He hoped Draco had. The thought of Draco not eating enough so that he could afford a present made Harry’s heart ached.
“I made it myself,”
“You made it yourself? Can I open it now?”
Without waiting for Draco’s nod, Harry stood up and fetched the present. He wondered what Draco had made for him, since he knew well enough to say that Draco and crafts were mortal enemies. Then he moved to sit on the sofa and opened it meticulously. The wrapper was old Daily Prophet. He had thought before that it was maybe some kind of trend statement. He knew better then.
Still, he couldn’t bear to tear it down. Draco, after all, had wrapped it himself. He knew that the usual for Draco was to ask the house elves to do that.
Inside was an ordinary, cardboard box. When Harry lifted the lid, ten vials of silvery, grey liquid came into his view.
Turning his head to face his boyfriend, Harry asked, “What are these for?”
Draco, who had moved to sit beside Harry on the sofa, couldn’t stop his feet to tap the floor all the while. He was, shameful as it was, nervous.
“It is for your hair. It supposed to make them tamable and flat. I don’t know whether it will work or not, though. I was forced to downgrade the equipment and substitute a number of its ingredient,”
Smiling widely, Harry said, “This is brilliant! Thank you so much,”
“Don’t lie, Harry. I know you didn’t think it is important to conquer the bird nest you called hair. Besides, there is fifty percent chance it won’t work anyway,”
No, there’s no way Harry would really like it better than the mountain of presents he hadn’t opened yet. Harry was simply too nice to say otherwise.
“No, this is brilliant, because you design and made it yourself. This is the best present I had this year,”
“This is one lousy, cheap present,” the tone was self disparaging and it made Harry longed to convince Draco that it was absolutely not.
“Draco, I love you. And every time I used this present, I will remember that you love me,”
“Don’t put words into my mouth, Potter!” yet, the blush on his cheeks and the kiss he gave Harry afterwards bellied his harsh words.
It lasted shorter than usual and Draco attributed his lack of breath to his tiredness. Still, moving his face so it would be hidden on the crooks of Harry’s neck without extricated himself from Harry’s arms, Draco thought that it was no less sweet.
“Is it enough?” mumbled Draco.
“What is enough?” Harry asked back. Moments like those were his favorite of all. For someone so full of angles, Draco was very cuddly. He had to remember to fatten him up though, since Draco was too thin for his liking then.
“Love, you said that I love you. Will love alone be enough?” his voice was so small that had Harry not strained his ears, he wouldn’t hear it. It was again all that he had been taught to show a weakness so apparent.
Still, Harry’s tightened hug was enough of an answer for Draco, even before he heard Harry said.
“More than enough,”
END