Life Advice- Part 6
Title: Life Advice- Part 6
Author: sugareey
Pairing: Harry/Draco, (and Ron/Hermione) for this part
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Advice can come to you in some of the oddest ways.
Word count: 3,933
Disclaimer: All character belong to J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury/Scholastic, etc. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's note: The series for the awdt Valentine Quickies is now COMPLETE. For the prompt, "Love and marriage". I hope you like this! And I have some reference to Edgar Allen Poe's, "The Raven." Enjoy!
Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l Part 4 l Part 5
The Gliding Galleon was definitely not what Harry had envisioned.
When he walked through the doorway, he was instantly greeted by dim, coloured lighting, loud chatter and live music. The bar on the left was packed with blokes gathered close together, listening in on the Wizarding Wireless Network about the big game between the Falmouth Falcons and the Chudley Cannons. A wave of cheers confirmed that the Falcons had scored a goal. There were tables set up near a dance floor, where couples were dancing to the Weird Sisters. It seemed amazing and ridiculous at the same time. For someone to book a gig with the Weird Sisters was nearly impossible. Perhaps that was why the restaurant was so packed this evening. Or maybe it was just a popular place.
Whatever the reason, Harry definitely liked it. With so much going on, people were too busy to look up and stare at him. He was sure that he wouldn’t need to struggle through a crowd of lovesick girls begging for his autograph tonight. Finally, a normal night he could enjoy. Now if he could only find Ron and Hermione…
“Are you looking for someone, sir?” asked a brunette waitress while balancing four glasses of scotch on her tray.
“Yes, I’m actually here under reservation,” said Harry, slightly relieved that someone could help him. “It’s under Weasley. Ron and Hermione Weasley?”
“Six o’clock reservation, yes?”
Harry smiled and nodded.
The waitress turned to the table behind her, setting down the glasses before tucking the tray under her arm. She grinned back. “Sorry about that. It’s been quite busy here ever since we’ve opened up. But if you would follow me, Mr. Potter, I’ll show you the way.”
Harry didn’t have time to say anything as the waitress gave him a wink and began to walk away. He quickly ran up behind her to avoid getting squished by a large, jolly man that reminded him of Horace Slughorn. Of course, it wasn’t Slughorn, since the man wasn’t sucking on sugared pineapple, and he was grasping the hand of a plump woman with ginger hair. From what Harry could recall, Slughorn had never mentioned anything about being married.
As Harry followed the waitress, he realised they were heading toward the stage where the Weird Sisters were playing. The last time he had seen them play was at the Yule Ball in fourth year, something he wished he could have enjoyed had Ron not been in such a mood. But now, having a table near the Weird Sisters was like getting free backstage passes. This was something Harry could not complain about.
“They’re over there!” the waitress called out over the music, pointing across restaurant. “Fourth row from the stage, second table from the wall over there. Enjoy yourself at the Gliding Galleon, Mr. Potter!”
“Thanks!” Harry shouted back, patting her arm before moving his way toward the table.
“Harry!”
Both Ron and Hermione stood up quickly and ran over to him, each taking turns to hug Harry.
“We’ve missed you so much!” Hermione cried out, kissing him on the cheek. “How are you?”
Harry shrugged. “Alright, I guess. I managed to get you both something. Like always.”
“Mate, you know you don’t have to do that,” insisted Ron. He grinned. “But well, since it’s tradition, let’s see what you’ve gotten us.”
Harry reached into the pocket of his dark, emerald robes, pulled out two tiny parcels. Taking his wand out, he changed them back to their normal size and handed them over to Ron and Hermione.
“Let’s get back to the table and order, yeah?”
The three of them sat down, with Ron wrapping an arm Hermione’s waist and giving her a quick peck. Hermione blushed as she glanced down at her gift. She began unwrapping the paper, as Ron did the same. Harry watched them closely, noticing the gleam of happiness shining in their eyes as they sneaked glimpses at each other. Just like when they were teenagers in love.
Harry occupied himself, unraveling his napkin from his silverware and placing it on his lap. What a feeling it must be to fall in love. The feeling of knowing that someone really cared about you, for better and for worse. He didn’t exactly expect love and marriage, which everyone seemed to want these days. But just to have the one person who mattered to you the most. Maybe there was a time Harry could have had that. For now, he would have to keep looking.
“Bloody hell, Harry! You got me Wood’s repair set?” inquired Ron excitedly, stroking the finished black box. “Blasted that the bloke is on Puddlemere, but making Quidditch supplies too? Some of the best, I hear.”
“The very best, actually,” confirmed Harry. “Oliver happened to be in London when I was getting your gift. And, there you have it. I figured you could use it for your Nimbus.”
“You’re mad,” declared Ron, shaking his head and laughing. “But you’re a good man to that. Thanks, Harry. Really. My broom needs it. It’s seen better days.”
“Anytime,” answered Harry. “It’ll be better for you when you start Keeping again.”
“And I’ll remind Bill and Charlie about who has a better broom. They’ll never outdo me on their ancient Cleansweeps!”
“There’s a bar over there if you want to keep talking about Quidditch, boys,” suggested Hermione sarcastically, rolling her eyes. “This is supposed to be a dinner.
Ron crossed his arms and sulked. “Well, fine. What did Harry get you then?”
“American poetry!” Hermione exclaimed, flipping through the pages of her book. “Poe is supposed to be a classic writer. I’ll definitely have to read this when I get home.”
“Oh, now you’ve done it,” muttered Ron darkly. “Now she’ll be up reading all night, instead of having-”
“I’m glad you like the book, Hermione,” Harry interjected quickly, not exactly wanting know what Ron going to say. “Poe is brilliant in America. And well, poetry is a change from history and runes.”
“It’s wonderful, Harry. I love it! There’s this one poem that everyone always talks about. The Raven, it’s called.”
“Sounds boring,” groaned Ron, picking up a menu to scan the entrees.
“Not if you read it very closely, Weasley,” responded a very low voice. “The raven, ‘Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore. Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore. Of Never-nevermore.”
“Nice citation, Draco, and even better job with tardiness,” complimented Hermione sardonically, gesturing toward the empty seat across from her. “But I’m impressed that you know that poem very well.”
“I am only fashionably late, Granger. Meaning that I’m on time,” drawled Draco, sitting down and grabbing the wine menu. “And you would be surprised by how much more I know of Poe’s works.”
“Is that so?” asked Harry politely, wanting to know exactly why Draco Malfoy decided to crash their dinner. And since when did Hermione have dinner with him or even address him as Draco? “That must have been something to do while hanging around in Dundee then.”
Draco glanced at Harry, a brief expression of shock appearing on his face before transforming into indifference. “Hello, to you too, Potter. Fancy seeing you here.”
“I was invited, thanks. I don’t know about you.”
“The very same. In fact, I made the suggestion to Granger and Weasley to come here.”
Harry turned to his friends, who were staring back at him apprehensively. “What is going on?”
“I meant to tell you that we were going to have someone joining us, Harry,” started Hermione nervously. “If we told you beforehand…”
“You wouldn’t have come here,” finished Ron dejectedly. “Same goes with Draco. And I’ll let you know that this was not my idea!”
“When have you been on first name terms with Malfoy?” questioned Harry, feeling his blood beginning to boil.
Hermione sighed. “When you left. Draco came back from France alone and-”
“Granger, don’t…” warned Draco, eying her warily.
Harry didn’t want to hear it. He knew exactly what this was, if he knew his friends well, and he was not going to tolerate it. Why didn’t they say anything about Draco? And how could they possibly like the git when he always berated them? This was not happening. Harry would not let Draco try to ruin another night for him if this had to do with their past rivalry. Revenge. He thought they had moved past all that rubbish the day when Draco was freed of all charges. Apparently not.
“Please do not tell me that this was your way to get me out of my flat.”
“No, it’s not! It’s just that-”
“This must be some sort of joke. Because if it is, it’s a really bad one.”
“Mate, that’s not what this is abou-”
“Excuse me,” interjected Harry coldly, getting up hastily to head for the loo.
Making a detour to the right, Harry sprinted down the corridor and kicked the door open to the men’s room. It was a relief that no one was there. He couldn’t help but pace back and forth, letting everything spin through his mind.
It was clearly obvious that this whole dinner was supposed to be a double date. Harry assumed Draco was single, as the Daily Prophet had not mentioned anything about his romantic life. Or anything else for that matter. Or maybe Harry had not been reading carefully when he did read up about the wizarding world. Still, Hermione and Ron would have said something. And they knew Harry was single too, so naturally, with Hermione being a matchmaker…
He felt so stupid. He couldn’t even find his own date to spend the night with. And on Valentine’s day…
“Harry?”
“Leave me alone!” Harry bit out, his back facing the doorway. “Eat slugs!”
“Is that really all you have to say?” sneered Draco irritably. “I don’t see how acting like a petulant child is going to do you any good.”
“Then stop following me!” Harry shot back, turning around to glare at Draco. “You had the nerve to ruin my date, and now dinner with my friends! What are you going to do next?”
Draco studied Harry closely, his face wearing a guarded expression. He ran a hand through his hair before smoothing down his tie uneasily. He sighed.
“What?”
“Nothing,” said Draco, walking over to the sink to look at himself at the mirror. “You’re just very interesting. That’s all.”
‘What’s that supposed to mean?”
“The way you are to people. I really thought you would be the type of person who would leave the past behind. Forgive people. Maybe make amends and-”
“It didn’t seem like that was what you wanted to do the last time we met,” muttered Harry.
“You wouldn’t let me.”
“You were the one who was in a mood!” argued Harry. He took a few steps closer to Draco. “I just wanted to know what you were doing in Dundee. I’ve lived there long enough to know that you’ve never wandered the streets, up until now.”
“If you really need to know, I’m working for Shacklebolt now,” replied Draco angrily, turning the tap on to splash water on his face. He shut it off and conjured a towel with his wand to dry off. “International relations in France wasn’t for me. It was complicated, trying to talk to all these wizards in French, Spanish and all these other languages. I figured I should let Mother and Father enjoy each other’s company. So I came back to Scotland, even though I didn’t want to. I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
“You work at the Ministry?”
“Shacklebolt is still the Minister of Magic, isn’t he?”
“Yes, but-”
“At least he considered me, despite what I have done in the past. Kingsley knew a great deal about my job in France. He asked me why I came back, just like everyone else. He read about how well I was doing with all the internationals. But even those wizards still judged me, making it difficult to negotiate with them.”
“So you’re a Potions Master now?”
“Careful with your assumptions, Potter. Don’t get in the habit of making them.”
“Sorry,” apologised Harry, scratching his neck uncomfortably. All this new information was going right over his head, and he wasn’t sure what to think. “So, what do you do at the Ministry then?”
“I’m an Unspeakable,” spoke Draco quietly, leaning back against the sink. “Working at the Ministry has allowed me to know Weasley better. Well, at least after my accident.”
“Accident?”
“At this awards ceremony for Ministry employees. We were all served goblets of wine for a toast. Someone poisoned my goblet, and the next thing I knew, I was at St. Mungo’s."
Harry’s eyes widened as he stared at the sad, pale face glancing back at him. “I didn’t know.”
“They decided not to publish it in the paper.”
For some reason, Harry began to feel guilty for leaving the wizarding world in the first place. These crimes would never be happening if he had stayed. Maybe Harry would have been Auror like Ron. He would have been able to hunt down the culprits who tried to hurt people who didn’t deserve it. Even someone like Draco didn’t deserve that type of fate.
“Did you find out who it was?”
Draco flushed, breaking his eye contact with Harry. “It was Blaise.”
“You’re joking?”
“No, I’m not. He…he had followed Crabbe and Goyle’s steps when Voldemort took over the Ministry and Hogwarts. We used to be fair friends. He was angry at me about what I did, how I royally messed up everything and-”
“No, you didn’t,” interjected Harry firmly. He reached out to rest a hand on Draco’s arm. “You did what you thought was right. That matters.”
“It didn’t matter to him,” answered Draco bitterly, letting Harry touch him. “He always told me about how everyone always made an exception for me, and how it was unfair. He figured it was worth breaking out of Azkaban just to get vengeance.”
“I read about that, but I didn’t think he would…”
“I’m not surprised. Served me right for sticking my neck out into the public.”
“Don’t say that! It’s not your fault. People are idiots if they can’t see that.”
Draco paused for a moment, looking flustered. Straightening his shoulders, he spoke again.
“Weasley hated me until Granger ended up treating me at St. Mungo’s. All the other healers refused to have me as their patient. Granger was willing to talk to me though. Of course, she asked me why I decided to move back to Scotland. So I told her. Everything. She must have told Weasley too, because soon after, he started inviting me to go out with our co-workers to the Leaky Cauldron. And that was that.”
“So you’re all friends then? You go out regularly to catch up?”
“If you put it that way, yes. Why?”
“Honestly, I thought this day would never come,” admitted Harry with a smirk. “You used to try to hex Ron into pieces at every chance you could get.”
“Sometimes, I still want to, when he’s being a complete git,” responded Draco with slight amusement. “I still can’t believe he thinks the Cannons are better than the Falcons!”
“That’s Ron for you.”
“Yeah.”
Silence lingered between them as they looked at each other with curiosity. Harry had not expected Draco to talk to him so openly. The last time he has seen him, he thought Draco had resented him. At the time, Harry had concluded that maybe Draco had never wanted to be saved. It seemed like a good reason behind all his anger. But Harry had been proved wrong. Draco was happy with his life. He had changed into a man who wanted to make a difference in the world.
As Harry pondered over these thoughts, he suddenly felt a warm hand touching his cheek. He couldn’t remember how they ended up standing to close together, so close that Harry could feel Draco’s breath against his skin. He shivered and backed away. Draco grabbed his wrist to pull him closer. Harry was sure that Draco could feel his pulse racing wildly.
“So when you said you told Hermione everything, what did you mean by that?” queried Harry, his voice shaking slightly. “What did you say to her?”
Draco bit his lip, a look of panic reaching his eyes. “Do you really want to know, Harry?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Alright.”
Just when Harry was waiting for a response, Draco brought his other hand toward Harry’s face. Harry would only watch as Draco’s face came closer and closer to his. And then Draco leaned in to kiss him hard.
There was only one word to describe this kiss: ecstasy.
Harry felt like he was floating. Maybe it was a spark of passion, or just the quick beating of his heart, but this was a feeling that he needed. Magic. A magic that instantly told Harry that this was what he was missing in his life, that this was something that would make him feel whole again. It felt so familiar, this fervor running through him. In this single moment, he couldn’t have asked for more.
As the kiss deepened, Harry decided to push back, kissing Draco just as hard. He took the opportunity to back Draco up against a toilet stall, swiping his tongue across his lower lip. Draco moaned in his mouth, allowing Harry to slip his tongue inside. That was when Draco retaliated. When soft, wet lips closed around his tongue and began to suck, Harry let out a moan of his own, one that echoed within the room.
He hadn’t felt like this since Dakin. Harry was almost sure Dakin kissed like this, unless…
“It can’t be,” mumbled Harry breathlessly, forcing himself to break away from Draco. “You can’t be him. That’s just…no. Not possible.”
“Harry?”
“Shit! This can’t be…you cannot be Dakin. You just can’t!”
“And why the hell not?” inquired Draco furiously, crossing his arms. “You seemed to fancy Dakin quite a bit. And you had no complaints about your mysterious admirer.”
“So you admit it!” accused Harry, pointing a trembling finger at him. "You disguised yourself as a Muggle, just to get me to fall in love with you and-”
“Slow on the uptake, are we?”
“Huh?”
“That was the whole point,” clarified Draco, reaching out to caress Harry’s face briefly. He let his arm drop to his side. “I told Granger that I came back to find you. I wanted to talk, to let you know how much I appreciated what you did for me. I would have been a dead man. When I spent my time in France, I kept my eye out for any newspaper articles about you, but I couldn’t find any. They said you disappeared, so I decided to investigate.
“When Kingsley first gave me the job as Unspeakable, he gave me a list of rooms in the Department of Mysteries. There are twelve of them, as you know. The doors work like wands. Some doors only open for certain people. It depends on a person’s understanding about magic, and whether they will do great things with it in the future. Most of the doors opened for me, except for one. For the longest time, I couldn’t understand why.”
Harry opened his mouth to respond but Draco held up a hand.
“Let me ask you something about the locked door. Why do you think I couldn’t open it?”
Harry hated thinking about that night at the Department of Mysteries, but he could still remember the shouts calling after him when he had tried to run for his life. The place had been filled with all sorts of magic, from brains and planets to the Death Chamber and the Timeturners. There were other rooms of course, but there was that one room. Dumbledore had said it possessed powerful magic, magic that ran through Harry’s blood.
“It was love,” he whispered with realisation. “You couldn’t open the door because it was filled with love, which is something that very few people understand.”
Draco could only nod, swallowing hard before continuing.
“Obviously, I wasn’t one of them. So I talked to Granger, even after my release from St. Mungo’s. Then I asked her about you one day. She eventually told me why you left, or at least why she thought you left. I wanted to find out too, because secretly, I wished you had stayed in the wizarding world. I wished we had become friends instead of enemies. I’m sure there was more, but she could tell that I cared about you. And then Weasley got involved. He was the one who told me to go find you. So I did.”
“That’s why you became Dakin. That’s why you sent the letters. Because of me.”
“Yes, I guess so,” agreed Draco, flushing again so that his cheeks were pink. “I never hated you, Harry. I made stupid choices when I was young, but not out of hatred. I didn’t want to think about how I felt about you, so I tried to forget about it.”
“And then I found you instead,” recalled Harry, “On the bench that day.”
“Look, I’m sorry if I deceived you,” began Draco miserably, exhaling deeply. “Maybe you would have been great with Dakin, or your admirer. You seemed to like them, and I wanted to see if you would like me as myself. But I panicked and left. Left a potential love and left the city. I kept telling myself that you still hated me, even though you had defended me against the Wizengamot. So that’s why I kissed you in the bookstore. I was afraid that I would lose my chance with you. And I…I don’t know. I can’t believe how badly I fucked up.”
“I can’t believe you lived like a Muggle so you could try to seduce me,” answered Harry with amazement, completely shocked that Draco had gone through such a complex process just to get to him. To be with him and make him happy.
Draco laughed derisively and frowned. “Some seduction. I understand if you don’t feel the same way. I don’t expect you to. My plan was cunning; that’s what Slytherins are known for.”
“It wasn’t a bad thing, Draco,” assured Harry, taking Draco’s hand in his own. He squeezed it tightly. “Gryffindors are known to be brave, but not when one runs off to hide.”
“You were hiding?”
“So I didn’t have to deal with the fame. Or the guilt and fault that came with the war. The war was enough to break up families, families that loved each other. I wanted to look for that somewhere else, a place where people wouldn’t look at me because I was the Boy-Who-Lived.”
“You’re Harry to me. Always.”
“Just Harry?”
“Yes.”
It was that very answer that made Harry grab Draco by the shirt, pulling him into a kiss. Draco obliged, wrapping his arms loosely around Harry’s waist in the process. To be held, to be loved, to just mean something to someone. They didn’t have to say it to each other, they could feel it. And that was all Harry cared about.
“So about that door,” Harry asked when he finally caught his breath from all the snogging. “Do you think it’s unlocked now?”
Draco gave Harry a genuine grin, kissing his forehead before pulling him toward the doorway.
“I”ll let you know.”
Author: sugareey
Pairing: Harry/Draco, (and Ron/Hermione) for this part
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Advice can come to you in some of the oddest ways.
Word count: 3,933
Disclaimer: All character belong to J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury/Scholastic, etc. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's note: The series for the awdt Valentine Quickies is now COMPLETE. For the prompt, "Love and marriage". I hope you like this! And I have some reference to Edgar Allen Poe's, "The Raven." Enjoy!
Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l Part 4 l Part 5
The Gliding Galleon was definitely not what Harry had envisioned.
When he walked through the doorway, he was instantly greeted by dim, coloured lighting, loud chatter and live music. The bar on the left was packed with blokes gathered close together, listening in on the Wizarding Wireless Network about the big game between the Falmouth Falcons and the Chudley Cannons. A wave of cheers confirmed that the Falcons had scored a goal. There were tables set up near a dance floor, where couples were dancing to the Weird Sisters. It seemed amazing and ridiculous at the same time. For someone to book a gig with the Weird Sisters was nearly impossible. Perhaps that was why the restaurant was so packed this evening. Or maybe it was just a popular place.
Whatever the reason, Harry definitely liked it. With so much going on, people were too busy to look up and stare at him. He was sure that he wouldn’t need to struggle through a crowd of lovesick girls begging for his autograph tonight. Finally, a normal night he could enjoy. Now if he could only find Ron and Hermione…
“Are you looking for someone, sir?” asked a brunette waitress while balancing four glasses of scotch on her tray.
“Yes, I’m actually here under reservation,” said Harry, slightly relieved that someone could help him. “It’s under Weasley. Ron and Hermione Weasley?”
“Six o’clock reservation, yes?”
Harry smiled and nodded.
The waitress turned to the table behind her, setting down the glasses before tucking the tray under her arm. She grinned back. “Sorry about that. It’s been quite busy here ever since we’ve opened up. But if you would follow me, Mr. Potter, I’ll show you the way.”
Harry didn’t have time to say anything as the waitress gave him a wink and began to walk away. He quickly ran up behind her to avoid getting squished by a large, jolly man that reminded him of Horace Slughorn. Of course, it wasn’t Slughorn, since the man wasn’t sucking on sugared pineapple, and he was grasping the hand of a plump woman with ginger hair. From what Harry could recall, Slughorn had never mentioned anything about being married.
As Harry followed the waitress, he realised they were heading toward the stage where the Weird Sisters were playing. The last time he had seen them play was at the Yule Ball in fourth year, something he wished he could have enjoyed had Ron not been in such a mood. But now, having a table near the Weird Sisters was like getting free backstage passes. This was something Harry could not complain about.
“They’re over there!” the waitress called out over the music, pointing across restaurant. “Fourth row from the stage, second table from the wall over there. Enjoy yourself at the Gliding Galleon, Mr. Potter!”
“Thanks!” Harry shouted back, patting her arm before moving his way toward the table.
“Harry!”
Both Ron and Hermione stood up quickly and ran over to him, each taking turns to hug Harry.
“We’ve missed you so much!” Hermione cried out, kissing him on the cheek. “How are you?”
Harry shrugged. “Alright, I guess. I managed to get you both something. Like always.”
“Mate, you know you don’t have to do that,” insisted Ron. He grinned. “But well, since it’s tradition, let’s see what you’ve gotten us.”
Harry reached into the pocket of his dark, emerald robes, pulled out two tiny parcels. Taking his wand out, he changed them back to their normal size and handed them over to Ron and Hermione.
“Let’s get back to the table and order, yeah?”
The three of them sat down, with Ron wrapping an arm Hermione’s waist and giving her a quick peck. Hermione blushed as she glanced down at her gift. She began unwrapping the paper, as Ron did the same. Harry watched them closely, noticing the gleam of happiness shining in their eyes as they sneaked glimpses at each other. Just like when they were teenagers in love.
Harry occupied himself, unraveling his napkin from his silverware and placing it on his lap. What a feeling it must be to fall in love. The feeling of knowing that someone really cared about you, for better and for worse. He didn’t exactly expect love and marriage, which everyone seemed to want these days. But just to have the one person who mattered to you the most. Maybe there was a time Harry could have had that. For now, he would have to keep looking.
“Bloody hell, Harry! You got me Wood’s repair set?” inquired Ron excitedly, stroking the finished black box. “Blasted that the bloke is on Puddlemere, but making Quidditch supplies too? Some of the best, I hear.”
“The very best, actually,” confirmed Harry. “Oliver happened to be in London when I was getting your gift. And, there you have it. I figured you could use it for your Nimbus.”
“You’re mad,” declared Ron, shaking his head and laughing. “But you’re a good man to that. Thanks, Harry. Really. My broom needs it. It’s seen better days.”
“Anytime,” answered Harry. “It’ll be better for you when you start Keeping again.”
“And I’ll remind Bill and Charlie about who has a better broom. They’ll never outdo me on their ancient Cleansweeps!”
“There’s a bar over there if you want to keep talking about Quidditch, boys,” suggested Hermione sarcastically, rolling her eyes. “This is supposed to be a dinner.
Ron crossed his arms and sulked. “Well, fine. What did Harry get you then?”
“American poetry!” Hermione exclaimed, flipping through the pages of her book. “Poe is supposed to be a classic writer. I’ll definitely have to read this when I get home.”
“Oh, now you’ve done it,” muttered Ron darkly. “Now she’ll be up reading all night, instead of having-”
“I’m glad you like the book, Hermione,” Harry interjected quickly, not exactly wanting know what Ron going to say. “Poe is brilliant in America. And well, poetry is a change from history and runes.”
“It’s wonderful, Harry. I love it! There’s this one poem that everyone always talks about. The Raven, it’s called.”
“Sounds boring,” groaned Ron, picking up a menu to scan the entrees.
“Not if you read it very closely, Weasley,” responded a very low voice. “The raven, ‘Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore. Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore. Of Never-nevermore.”
“Nice citation, Draco, and even better job with tardiness,” complimented Hermione sardonically, gesturing toward the empty seat across from her. “But I’m impressed that you know that poem very well.”
“I am only fashionably late, Granger. Meaning that I’m on time,” drawled Draco, sitting down and grabbing the wine menu. “And you would be surprised by how much more I know of Poe’s works.”
“Is that so?” asked Harry politely, wanting to know exactly why Draco Malfoy decided to crash their dinner. And since when did Hermione have dinner with him or even address him as Draco? “That must have been something to do while hanging around in Dundee then.”
Draco glanced at Harry, a brief expression of shock appearing on his face before transforming into indifference. “Hello, to you too, Potter. Fancy seeing you here.”
“I was invited, thanks. I don’t know about you.”
“The very same. In fact, I made the suggestion to Granger and Weasley to come here.”
Harry turned to his friends, who were staring back at him apprehensively. “What is going on?”
“I meant to tell you that we were going to have someone joining us, Harry,” started Hermione nervously. “If we told you beforehand…”
“You wouldn’t have come here,” finished Ron dejectedly. “Same goes with Draco. And I’ll let you know that this was not my idea!”
“When have you been on first name terms with Malfoy?” questioned Harry, feeling his blood beginning to boil.
Hermione sighed. “When you left. Draco came back from France alone and-”
“Granger, don’t…” warned Draco, eying her warily.
Harry didn’t want to hear it. He knew exactly what this was, if he knew his friends well, and he was not going to tolerate it. Why didn’t they say anything about Draco? And how could they possibly like the git when he always berated them? This was not happening. Harry would not let Draco try to ruin another night for him if this had to do with their past rivalry. Revenge. He thought they had moved past all that rubbish the day when Draco was freed of all charges. Apparently not.
“Please do not tell me that this was your way to get me out of my flat.”
“No, it’s not! It’s just that-”
“This must be some sort of joke. Because if it is, it’s a really bad one.”
“Mate, that’s not what this is abou-”
“Excuse me,” interjected Harry coldly, getting up hastily to head for the loo.
Making a detour to the right, Harry sprinted down the corridor and kicked the door open to the men’s room. It was a relief that no one was there. He couldn’t help but pace back and forth, letting everything spin through his mind.
It was clearly obvious that this whole dinner was supposed to be a double date. Harry assumed Draco was single, as the Daily Prophet had not mentioned anything about his romantic life. Or anything else for that matter. Or maybe Harry had not been reading carefully when he did read up about the wizarding world. Still, Hermione and Ron would have said something. And they knew Harry was single too, so naturally, with Hermione being a matchmaker…
He felt so stupid. He couldn’t even find his own date to spend the night with. And on Valentine’s day…
“Harry?”
“Leave me alone!” Harry bit out, his back facing the doorway. “Eat slugs!”
“Is that really all you have to say?” sneered Draco irritably. “I don’t see how acting like a petulant child is going to do you any good.”
“Then stop following me!” Harry shot back, turning around to glare at Draco. “You had the nerve to ruin my date, and now dinner with my friends! What are you going to do next?”
Draco studied Harry closely, his face wearing a guarded expression. He ran a hand through his hair before smoothing down his tie uneasily. He sighed.
“What?”
“Nothing,” said Draco, walking over to the sink to look at himself at the mirror. “You’re just very interesting. That’s all.”
‘What’s that supposed to mean?”
“The way you are to people. I really thought you would be the type of person who would leave the past behind. Forgive people. Maybe make amends and-”
“It didn’t seem like that was what you wanted to do the last time we met,” muttered Harry.
“You wouldn’t let me.”
“You were the one who was in a mood!” argued Harry. He took a few steps closer to Draco. “I just wanted to know what you were doing in Dundee. I’ve lived there long enough to know that you’ve never wandered the streets, up until now.”
“If you really need to know, I’m working for Shacklebolt now,” replied Draco angrily, turning the tap on to splash water on his face. He shut it off and conjured a towel with his wand to dry off. “International relations in France wasn’t for me. It was complicated, trying to talk to all these wizards in French, Spanish and all these other languages. I figured I should let Mother and Father enjoy each other’s company. So I came back to Scotland, even though I didn’t want to. I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
“You work at the Ministry?”
“Shacklebolt is still the Minister of Magic, isn’t he?”
“Yes, but-”
“At least he considered me, despite what I have done in the past. Kingsley knew a great deal about my job in France. He asked me why I came back, just like everyone else. He read about how well I was doing with all the internationals. But even those wizards still judged me, making it difficult to negotiate with them.”
“So you’re a Potions Master now?”
“Careful with your assumptions, Potter. Don’t get in the habit of making them.”
“Sorry,” apologised Harry, scratching his neck uncomfortably. All this new information was going right over his head, and he wasn’t sure what to think. “So, what do you do at the Ministry then?”
“I’m an Unspeakable,” spoke Draco quietly, leaning back against the sink. “Working at the Ministry has allowed me to know Weasley better. Well, at least after my accident.”
“Accident?”
“At this awards ceremony for Ministry employees. We were all served goblets of wine for a toast. Someone poisoned my goblet, and the next thing I knew, I was at St. Mungo’s."
Harry’s eyes widened as he stared at the sad, pale face glancing back at him. “I didn’t know.”
“They decided not to publish it in the paper.”
For some reason, Harry began to feel guilty for leaving the wizarding world in the first place. These crimes would never be happening if he had stayed. Maybe Harry would have been Auror like Ron. He would have been able to hunt down the culprits who tried to hurt people who didn’t deserve it. Even someone like Draco didn’t deserve that type of fate.
“Did you find out who it was?”
Draco flushed, breaking his eye contact with Harry. “It was Blaise.”
“You’re joking?”
“No, I’m not. He…he had followed Crabbe and Goyle’s steps when Voldemort took over the Ministry and Hogwarts. We used to be fair friends. He was angry at me about what I did, how I royally messed up everything and-”
“No, you didn’t,” interjected Harry firmly. He reached out to rest a hand on Draco’s arm. “You did what you thought was right. That matters.”
“It didn’t matter to him,” answered Draco bitterly, letting Harry touch him. “He always told me about how everyone always made an exception for me, and how it was unfair. He figured it was worth breaking out of Azkaban just to get vengeance.”
“I read about that, but I didn’t think he would…”
“I’m not surprised. Served me right for sticking my neck out into the public.”
“Don’t say that! It’s not your fault. People are idiots if they can’t see that.”
Draco paused for a moment, looking flustered. Straightening his shoulders, he spoke again.
“Weasley hated me until Granger ended up treating me at St. Mungo’s. All the other healers refused to have me as their patient. Granger was willing to talk to me though. Of course, she asked me why I decided to move back to Scotland. So I told her. Everything. She must have told Weasley too, because soon after, he started inviting me to go out with our co-workers to the Leaky Cauldron. And that was that.”
“So you’re all friends then? You go out regularly to catch up?”
“If you put it that way, yes. Why?”
“Honestly, I thought this day would never come,” admitted Harry with a smirk. “You used to try to hex Ron into pieces at every chance you could get.”
“Sometimes, I still want to, when he’s being a complete git,” responded Draco with slight amusement. “I still can’t believe he thinks the Cannons are better than the Falcons!”
“That’s Ron for you.”
“Yeah.”
Silence lingered between them as they looked at each other with curiosity. Harry had not expected Draco to talk to him so openly. The last time he has seen him, he thought Draco had resented him. At the time, Harry had concluded that maybe Draco had never wanted to be saved. It seemed like a good reason behind all his anger. But Harry had been proved wrong. Draco was happy with his life. He had changed into a man who wanted to make a difference in the world.
As Harry pondered over these thoughts, he suddenly felt a warm hand touching his cheek. He couldn’t remember how they ended up standing to close together, so close that Harry could feel Draco’s breath against his skin. He shivered and backed away. Draco grabbed his wrist to pull him closer. Harry was sure that Draco could feel his pulse racing wildly.
“So when you said you told Hermione everything, what did you mean by that?” queried Harry, his voice shaking slightly. “What did you say to her?”
Draco bit his lip, a look of panic reaching his eyes. “Do you really want to know, Harry?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Alright.”
Just when Harry was waiting for a response, Draco brought his other hand toward Harry’s face. Harry would only watch as Draco’s face came closer and closer to his. And then Draco leaned in to kiss him hard.
There was only one word to describe this kiss: ecstasy.
Harry felt like he was floating. Maybe it was a spark of passion, or just the quick beating of his heart, but this was a feeling that he needed. Magic. A magic that instantly told Harry that this was what he was missing in his life, that this was something that would make him feel whole again. It felt so familiar, this fervor running through him. In this single moment, he couldn’t have asked for more.
As the kiss deepened, Harry decided to push back, kissing Draco just as hard. He took the opportunity to back Draco up against a toilet stall, swiping his tongue across his lower lip. Draco moaned in his mouth, allowing Harry to slip his tongue inside. That was when Draco retaliated. When soft, wet lips closed around his tongue and began to suck, Harry let out a moan of his own, one that echoed within the room.
He hadn’t felt like this since Dakin. Harry was almost sure Dakin kissed like this, unless…
“It can’t be,” mumbled Harry breathlessly, forcing himself to break away from Draco. “You can’t be him. That’s just…no. Not possible.”
“Harry?”
“Shit! This can’t be…you cannot be Dakin. You just can’t!”
“And why the hell not?” inquired Draco furiously, crossing his arms. “You seemed to fancy Dakin quite a bit. And you had no complaints about your mysterious admirer.”
“So you admit it!” accused Harry, pointing a trembling finger at him. "You disguised yourself as a Muggle, just to get me to fall in love with you and-”
“Slow on the uptake, are we?”
“Huh?”
“That was the whole point,” clarified Draco, reaching out to caress Harry’s face briefly. He let his arm drop to his side. “I told Granger that I came back to find you. I wanted to talk, to let you know how much I appreciated what you did for me. I would have been a dead man. When I spent my time in France, I kept my eye out for any newspaper articles about you, but I couldn’t find any. They said you disappeared, so I decided to investigate.
“When Kingsley first gave me the job as Unspeakable, he gave me a list of rooms in the Department of Mysteries. There are twelve of them, as you know. The doors work like wands. Some doors only open for certain people. It depends on a person’s understanding about magic, and whether they will do great things with it in the future. Most of the doors opened for me, except for one. For the longest time, I couldn’t understand why.”
Harry opened his mouth to respond but Draco held up a hand.
“Let me ask you something about the locked door. Why do you think I couldn’t open it?”
Harry hated thinking about that night at the Department of Mysteries, but he could still remember the shouts calling after him when he had tried to run for his life. The place had been filled with all sorts of magic, from brains and planets to the Death Chamber and the Timeturners. There were other rooms of course, but there was that one room. Dumbledore had said it possessed powerful magic, magic that ran through Harry’s blood.
“It was love,” he whispered with realisation. “You couldn’t open the door because it was filled with love, which is something that very few people understand.”
Draco could only nod, swallowing hard before continuing.
“Obviously, I wasn’t one of them. So I talked to Granger, even after my release from St. Mungo’s. Then I asked her about you one day. She eventually told me why you left, or at least why she thought you left. I wanted to find out too, because secretly, I wished you had stayed in the wizarding world. I wished we had become friends instead of enemies. I’m sure there was more, but she could tell that I cared about you. And then Weasley got involved. He was the one who told me to go find you. So I did.”
“That’s why you became Dakin. That’s why you sent the letters. Because of me.”
“Yes, I guess so,” agreed Draco, flushing again so that his cheeks were pink. “I never hated you, Harry. I made stupid choices when I was young, but not out of hatred. I didn’t want to think about how I felt about you, so I tried to forget about it.”
“And then I found you instead,” recalled Harry, “On the bench that day.”
“Look, I’m sorry if I deceived you,” began Draco miserably, exhaling deeply. “Maybe you would have been great with Dakin, or your admirer. You seemed to like them, and I wanted to see if you would like me as myself. But I panicked and left. Left a potential love and left the city. I kept telling myself that you still hated me, even though you had defended me against the Wizengamot. So that’s why I kissed you in the bookstore. I was afraid that I would lose my chance with you. And I…I don’t know. I can’t believe how badly I fucked up.”
“I can’t believe you lived like a Muggle so you could try to seduce me,” answered Harry with amazement, completely shocked that Draco had gone through such a complex process just to get to him. To be with him and make him happy.
Draco laughed derisively and frowned. “Some seduction. I understand if you don’t feel the same way. I don’t expect you to. My plan was cunning; that’s what Slytherins are known for.”
“It wasn’t a bad thing, Draco,” assured Harry, taking Draco’s hand in his own. He squeezed it tightly. “Gryffindors are known to be brave, but not when one runs off to hide.”
“You were hiding?”
“So I didn’t have to deal with the fame. Or the guilt and fault that came with the war. The war was enough to break up families, families that loved each other. I wanted to look for that somewhere else, a place where people wouldn’t look at me because I was the Boy-Who-Lived.”
“You’re Harry to me. Always.”
“Just Harry?”
“Yes.”
It was that very answer that made Harry grab Draco by the shirt, pulling him into a kiss. Draco obliged, wrapping his arms loosely around Harry’s waist in the process. To be held, to be loved, to just mean something to someone. They didn’t have to say it to each other, they could feel it. And that was all Harry cared about.
“So about that door,” Harry asked when he finally caught his breath from all the snogging. “Do you think it’s unlocked now?”
Draco gave Harry a genuine grin, kissing his forehead before pulling him toward the doorway.
“I”ll let you know.”