RP: It All Started With a Soup Kitchen
Title: It All Started With a Soup Kitchen
Summary: After the trials, the Malfoys don't have access to their wealth. Harry Potter comes to the rescue. Again.
Word Count: 3723
Rating: G
Notes: Written for hd-owlpost. Dear Vaysh, no Captain America fusion this time, but I still hope you enjoy it. Happy holidays.
The Wizards and Witches' Worthy Wellness Foundation is proud to announce the opening of the very first magical soup kitchen in Ireland and Britain on the Second of May, 2000, in concomitance with the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts.
Located at #13 Knockturn Alley, the Soup Kitchen will have public Floo access only a few doors down. A special thank you goes to Mr. Harry Potter, who has pushed for the creation of the soup kitchen by obtaining private funds and public grants. He has also generously donated a large sum to create such vital -
Draco can't read the rest, since he only found a ripped page of the Daily Prophet lying on the ground of Knockturn Alley. He isn't even sure when it was published, but it doesn't matter, because tomorrow is the grand opening, and he won't miss it. He can't miss it. He's too hungry to miss it. Even the name Harry Potter isn't enough to put him off. Tomorrow, he'll have a decent meal.
"Mother, stop fussing." Draco doesn't know why they go through the pretense that they are still wearing their finest; they aren't. They aren't technically poor, but the Ministry still has control of the house and their vault. The Aurors are taking their sweet time checking for dark objects. Special rules were passed just for the manor, because Voldemort had lived there. So they aren't poor, but they have no money. They can't get a decent job, because no one wants to hire someone who's still under investigation, so they work random jobs, barely scraping together enough for rent. Food optional.
Their house is smaller than Draco's quarters at the manor. It leaks from everywhere, and even their joined magic isn't enough to prevent the water from dripping down and onto the floor. Everything smells of mold. So they aren't poor, and yet they are, which is why they find themselves in the queue to enter the new soup kitchen.
Once upon a time, Lucius would have complained about waiting like a commoner, but instead he trails behind them as they slowly make their way to the front of the line. Draco is too busy trying to distract his parents from the humiliation of being here with discussions about Quidditch and politics as if this was some fancy party and he doesn't pay attention to the people inside. It's only when he moves through the different servers with a tray in hand that he locks eyes with Harry.
"Potter," he says after a moment, pushing done the bile that's threatening to come up. He might be temporarily not rich, but he still has his pride. It's the only thing he has, and he won't give it up. The cretin has the audacity to give him a big smile, like this is normal.
"Malfoy." He turns to Narcissa and bows his head slightly. "Mrs. Malfoy." Then comes a cold, "Lucius."
Potter might have helped them stay out of jail, but not for a second has he pretended to like his father. The sentiment is mutual considering his father's sneer, while his mother is polite as ever, but the conversation is cut short when the people behind them in the queue complain. Draco is grateful to have an excuse to move on. They find a table and Draco does his best to ignore Potter for the rest of the time they are there. If their eyes met over and over is just because they hate each other, he tells himself. That smile is just a trick; he's sure of it.
Even in his head, he doesn't believe it.
Draco comes home from a twelve hours shift at the grocers where he's overqualified and underpaid. Mr. Greengrass owns the place and Draco is sure that he was given the job so that he can be tortured for daring to talk to his daughters, while Greengrass pretends to be doing him a favour. The manager, Mrs. Bellweather, is a widow whose husband was killed by Bellatrix and she reminds Draco hourly of that fact, often with terrible jobs.
Today has been one of those days when the terrible jobs never ended. He wants to eat the food he was able to bring home (and being able to take home what they are about to throw out is the only reason he hasn't quit yet) and then go to sleep. His parents seem to have another idea. "Why are you staring at that box?" he asks as he enters their small flat. It's a room that works as kitchen, living room and dining room. They also have two bedrooms and a bath. It's practically impossible for him to avoid his parents in this flat.
"It was delivered a few minutes ago," his mother says, with a strange tone, as if she's shocked by the idea that packages could be delivered.
"We've been checking for any Dark spell, but there's nothing," his father adds, and that makes a lot more sense to Draco.
"It is from the fancy new food place," Narcissa says as if Draco can't see the logo.
"Greengrass hates it. All the rich people are going there now. A lot better quality, foods from the continent, and the selection is impressive." That explains his parents distrust and shock at the box. Draco should have thought of it before, but he's hungry. Still the few vegetables and little meat he has in the bag seem irrelevant now. "Do we keep staring or do we open it?" he asks, but there's a note of humour in his voice that seems to bring out his parents from whatever daze they are in.
"Oh Draco, of course we open it." Narcissa smiles back, but she's still careful with the box, using magic to open it. A parchment comes floating out and Narcissa grabs it before Draco can. "To the Malfoy family," she starts, reading. "It was nice seeing you again. Harry Potter."
There seems to be a pause as all three Malfoys think of a reasonable response to that. Lucius is the first one to recover. "He can't write a proper note." As insults go, that's pretty lame, but Draco supposes that even his father can appreciate the food inside.
They end up not eating anything that Draco has brought home, but feast on some of the foods that had been delivered. They probably should eat less and make it last longer, but it's been so long since they've had a good meal that they don't wants to deprive themselves. So they eat and save some for the next few days. It won't last as much as it could have, but food shouldn't be a problem for a while.
Unfortunately, a while doesn't last long enough. They try to hold off going back to the soup kitchen for no reason other than pride. After that first day, they ration the rest of the box's content, adding whatever food Draco bring home, but inevitably they run out of food and rent is due.
Draco hates being here with the poor. He tells himself that they aren't really poor as soon as they join the queue, but his mental pep talk doesn’t help. He does feel a little better when he gets inside and he can smell the roast. What he doesn't expect is another face-to-face with Potter. "Do you live here?" he says, trying to sound snotty, but ends up sounding more curious than anything else.
"I try to stop by at night after work, unless there's some emergency."
Potter puts the roast on Draco's plate and Draco can tell that he has more meat than others, but doesn't comment. When they sit down, he sees that Potter didn’t give his parents the same courtesy. He almost offers to share, but his mother smiles and shakes her head. He supposes that it'd be bad form to let others know. His father's glare doesn't seem to support that idea, but Draco is used to following his mother's lead now.
They are almost done when Potter comes to their table. Theirs isn't really accurate. They are long tables with benches, but they managed to sit at the end, with his parents on one side, and him on the other, making it feel a little less communal.
"Scoot over." Potter says, waiting for Draco to do just that and sitting down.
"Potter, what are you doing?" Draco hisses.
Potter frowns, his glasses slipping down his nose. "Sitting and talking? I tend to do that with people who come here."
Of course, Saint Potter talks to the poor (not that they are poor, he thinks once more with the same miserable result) and lonely. "It's only temporary."
"I know," Potter answered. "We're almost done with the trials and then we'll deal with the manor. We'll need access to the vault." He glares at Lucius. "If you'd just give us that bloody key, the Ministry wouldn't have to fight with Gringotts and the DMLE wouldn't drag its feet with your house."
"You must be daft-"
Narcissa puts a hand on Lucius' arm and it's enough to shut him up. "As you can imagine, there are some trust issues when it comes to the vault. The Ministry has been insistent that we can't be there. Perhaps, you could inspect the vault yourself, with any additional help you deem necessary of course, and Draco could be present. Lucius and I won't have to be there, and hopefully this could be seen as a sign of good will."
Potter sighs. "I do have other work, but I'll see if I can talk to Kingsley. He'll know the best way to convince Robards."
Draco snorts. The Minister doesn't have to convince anyone, he orders, and Potter is on first name basis with the Minister. He doesn't think that it'll be so hard. Nothing ever is for Potter.
"Would you prefer that I don’t?" Potter asks.
"No, of course not. I would prefer that you stopped being so bloody blind and accepted that people do what you say," Draco answers.
"You never did what I said," Potter rebuts.
That makes Draco laughs. "That's because I always knew you and not Harry Potter, The Saviour."
Harry groans at the moniker that is in every article. "I hate Inkwell. He can never just write my name and now other journalists are doing it too."
"It fills the page," Draco suggested with a smirk.
"You're not wrong. You were much better at making up stories about me," Potter says and they are both smiling at the many memories. "And you were also better at seeing me."
"If you mean he could see how faulty you are-," Lucius starts.
"I mean that he could see that I was just a kid, like him, fighting a war started by other people and forced into roles neither I nor Draco asked ask for," Potter answers, "but lucky for you, we both survived, because that's the only reason you're sitting here and not in Azkaban." He puts a hand on Draco's lower back while he turns his head to look at Draco. "I'll see what I can do for the vault. Hang in there." He nods at Narcissa and then leaves.
Draco is still staring at Potter's arse- no, not at his arse, that is just a mental slip, and he most definitely isn't feeling all warm and fuzzy inside, while his back feels hot where Potter's hand was-
"Stop drooling." Narcissa barely refrains from rolling her eyes.
Draco blinks. "Excuse me?"
"You know very well what I mean. You are in your own little world any time Potter is around, even during our trials. You know, maybe this is for the best, checking the vault, spending a lot of time together-." She picks up her glass and sips some water, letting Draco fill the rest.
Draco smiles. She just gave him her blessing. It doesn't matter that he doesn't have a chance in hell to be with Potter, but the fact that his mother believes in him and wants to make him happy even though he won't have the traditional family makes his heart swell.
Life used to be so much better than this, back when ignorance shielded him from pain. Now the pain is physical as he tries to make himself smaller, curling into a fetal position. They don't even bother with magic, using their heavy boots to kick him. Draco could try magic. He knows enough spells that he could seriously injure all four of them in one go, but then he'd never leave Azkaban again, so he endures until a voice pushes through the pain.
Draco doesn't recognise the spell, but the four men drop to the floor with a loud thud. He's pretty sure that they will be sore and smiles a little.
"Are you alright?" Potter crouches in front of him and casts a few healing spells.
Draco feels better by the time Potter is done casting spells, but accepts Potter's help to stand up. It's not typical behaviour for him, but nowadays, he's rarely close to anyone other than his parents. Besides, he doesn't often have a reason to touch Potter and he won't give up this opportunity.
"Thank you," he says, staring at Potter who looks back with concern in his face. "You have a way to be at the right places at the right time."
"Considering how many of those times involve life and death situation, it's more at the wrong time, but you're welcome," Potter answers, finally smiling. "I was actually coming to your flat."
Panic sets in. Is he in trouble? Are they arresting him again? What will Potter think when he sees the flat? He's not sure which one worries him the most. He only manages a simple, 'Oh?'
"I have good news. I spoke with Kingsley and he's agreed that you can be present when I search the vault. I asked Ron and Neville to help," he adds. "It'll be fine."
Draco knows that Potter is right, because as much as he dislikes Weasley and Longbottom, he knows that they can be trusted. They are too Gryffindorish not to do the right thing and they would never go against Potter. "Thank you, I really appreciate it. So when would you like to go?"
Potter shrugged. "Let me know when you can take off from work."
Draco snorts. He doesn't care if Greengrass fires him. If they get the vault back, then they'll be able to afford whatever they want, even if the manor will have to wait. "You let me know when, and I'm there."
Potter nods. "I'll owl you as soon as I clear our schedules. Not tomorrow, but probably the day after. It won't take long."
Draco could almost kiss him, but instead he thanks him again and then goes home to give his parents the good news.
The leaves are changing colour and the air is getting colder as summer turns into fall. It's taken this long for the manor to be cleared, but Draco and his parents have been home for two all days. Not that their summer was terrible. Potter came through and in a few days the vault was released, giving the Malfoys the money they needed to live comfortably, but being home is different.
Draco is planning a huge party, inviting all of his friends, when a house-elf informs him that he has a guests. He's not surprised. Most of his friends disappeared after their arrest, but now that they have their money, manor and freedom, the other families are coming around, some even asking them for help. He can admit that he's enjoying watching them apologise for cutting him off.
He wonders who it could be. Pansy still hasn't made an appearance and she is in the market for a husband, but Blaise is supposed to be back from Italy. Either could be likely, he's shocked when he enters the morning room to find Potter. "Good morning, is there a problem?"
"Why do you always assume that there's something wrong when you see me?" Potter asks with a frown that Draco finds adorable. Only Potter can be adorably clueless while looking completely in control.
"You often are in your Auror robe and it is during your work hours," Draco pointed out. "My relationship with Aurors in general isn't very good, although I admit that you have always been very helpful."
Potter chuckles. "Imagine if your younger self heard you say that."
"My younger self wouldn't believe many of the things that have happened." Draco doesn't do humble well, but Potter has seen him at his worst over and over and he's always been there to help. Never - not once - he's made fun of Draco. "He also wouldn't believe how much I'd end up owing you."
Potter shakes his head. "You owe me nothing. I did what is right. No more and no less."
Draco knows that Potter believes that completely. "Still, I am grateful for what you've done." He points to the couch. "Would you like to take a seat? Tea?"
"Sure." With a grin, Potter sits down. "Coffee would be better. I wanted to be here to make sure that everything went smoothly when you returned, but I was busy with a case, and I just got off."
Draco frowns, a little confused and then it suddenly occurs to him that Potter isn't skivving off, but he's finally off duty after days from what it sounds like. "Are you mad? Why aren't you home and sleeping?"
"There's something that I need to ask and I've been waiting since I saw you at the soup kitchen." Potter rubs the back of his head, messing up his hair even more. He looks nervous, but Draco stays quiet, knowing that Potter will say what he wants when he's ready. "I didn't want to ask before you were back at the manor."
"And I'm here now, so you couldn't possibly wait until you had some sleep, but had to rush here," Draco finishes, genuinely amused by how much Potter hasn't changed. "Out with it, then. The sooner you say whatever you have to say, the sooner you can rest."
"Will you go out with me?" Potter says, although the question is barely one. Potter has never been one for indecision.
Draco blinks a few times. He knows that Potter and Weasley split up a few months after she finished school. It's been in every paper. Since then, there have been numerous articles about Weasley's new boyfriends, Draco assumes that at least half are made up simply because anytime she's been in public with a man, a new story has come out. On the other hand, there hasn't been anything on Potter. "Are you- I thought you-"
"Having a problems with words, Malfoy?" Potter asks, grinning again. "You can just agree with me for once in your life and make things easy for us. Otherwise, I'll just have to prove to you that I'm right and we'll miss even more time."
"Make things easy?" It seems impossible after the last four years. He almost doesn’t want to believe it. A simple yes would give him everything he wants, but he can't make himself believe. "Why? Why now? Why did you wait?"
"Because I didn't want anyone to think that I was helping you because I wanted to get into your pants. Because I didn't want you to think that my help was conditional on you going out with me. Because I want you to have the chance to say no and nothing happens," Potter answers. "You have everything back. You're free. You can do anything you want-"
"I want to go out with you." The words are out of his mouth before he can stop himself, surprising both himself and Potter, if Draco is reading his expression correctly. "I don't want to make it hard- Well, okay, I might want that," he said with a grin, "but not in that way. I'm tired, Potter. Tired of fighting, tired of surviving, tired of feeling like nothing is how it should be, but you are not now and wouldn't have been before a forced choice. When Aunt Bella brought you here, face all swollen, and ready to hand you over to the Dark Lord, I knew that I didn't want you to die and not just because you were the best person to kill him, but because I cared about you." He almost says that Potter should have said something sooner, but that's wrong. "You made the right choice about waiting. As much as I would have liked to have you around in the past two years, I doubt I would be free and home if the public found out that we were together."
"I know." Potter reaches for Draco's hand squeezing it gently. "I've spent so much time thinking about you, worrying about you. It was obvious that I cared about you. It's why Ginny and I broke up, but I also knew what would happen. But now, we can try and see where this goes. Dinner and a film? We can go in Muggle London so no one sees us for now, and maybe we can try something truly daring, like using first names."
Draco laughs at the last part. "I suppose we can, but I might slip up." The rest makes sense. He knows Potter isn't ashamed of them, but the two of them together would cause a shit storm. It's much easier to keep it private for now, even if it means going into Muggle London. "When then?"
"No better time like the present, or after a few hours of sleep. See you at seven, 12 Grimmauld Place. You should know where that is," Potter says.
Draco knows where it is, also knows that it's under Fidelius, but Potter just gave the information like it's the most natural thing in the world. "I'll be there."
"Good. I should go now." They both stand and then there's a moment of hesitation, before Harry leans in and kisses Draco gently. "I'll see you tonight."
Draco can't wait. He knows they are meant to be and now they finally will have that chance. And to think that it all started with a soup kitchen.
Summary: After the trials, the Malfoys don't have access to their wealth. Harry Potter comes to the rescue. Again.
Word Count: 3723
Rating: G
Notes: Written for hd-owlpost. Dear Vaysh, no Captain America fusion this time, but I still hope you enjoy it. Happy holidays.
The Wizards and Witches' Worthy Wellness Foundation is proud to announce the opening of the very first magical soup kitchen in Ireland and Britain on the Second of May, 2000, in concomitance with the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts.
Located at #13 Knockturn Alley, the Soup Kitchen will have public Floo access only a few doors down. A special thank you goes to Mr. Harry Potter, who has pushed for the creation of the soup kitchen by obtaining private funds and public grants. He has also generously donated a large sum to create such vital -
Draco can't read the rest, since he only found a ripped page of the Daily Prophet lying on the ground of Knockturn Alley. He isn't even sure when it was published, but it doesn't matter, because tomorrow is the grand opening, and he won't miss it. He can't miss it. He's too hungry to miss it. Even the name Harry Potter isn't enough to put him off. Tomorrow, he'll have a decent meal.
"Mother, stop fussing." Draco doesn't know why they go through the pretense that they are still wearing their finest; they aren't. They aren't technically poor, but the Ministry still has control of the house and their vault. The Aurors are taking their sweet time checking for dark objects. Special rules were passed just for the manor, because Voldemort had lived there. So they aren't poor, but they have no money. They can't get a decent job, because no one wants to hire someone who's still under investigation, so they work random jobs, barely scraping together enough for rent. Food optional.
Their house is smaller than Draco's quarters at the manor. It leaks from everywhere, and even their joined magic isn't enough to prevent the water from dripping down and onto the floor. Everything smells of mold. So they aren't poor, and yet they are, which is why they find themselves in the queue to enter the new soup kitchen.
Once upon a time, Lucius would have complained about waiting like a commoner, but instead he trails behind them as they slowly make their way to the front of the line. Draco is too busy trying to distract his parents from the humiliation of being here with discussions about Quidditch and politics as if this was some fancy party and he doesn't pay attention to the people inside. It's only when he moves through the different servers with a tray in hand that he locks eyes with Harry.
"Potter," he says after a moment, pushing done the bile that's threatening to come up. He might be temporarily not rich, but he still has his pride. It's the only thing he has, and he won't give it up. The cretin has the audacity to give him a big smile, like this is normal.
"Malfoy." He turns to Narcissa and bows his head slightly. "Mrs. Malfoy." Then comes a cold, "Lucius."
Potter might have helped them stay out of jail, but not for a second has he pretended to like his father. The sentiment is mutual considering his father's sneer, while his mother is polite as ever, but the conversation is cut short when the people behind them in the queue complain. Draco is grateful to have an excuse to move on. They find a table and Draco does his best to ignore Potter for the rest of the time they are there. If their eyes met over and over is just because they hate each other, he tells himself. That smile is just a trick; he's sure of it.
Even in his head, he doesn't believe it.
Draco comes home from a twelve hours shift at the grocers where he's overqualified and underpaid. Mr. Greengrass owns the place and Draco is sure that he was given the job so that he can be tortured for daring to talk to his daughters, while Greengrass pretends to be doing him a favour. The manager, Mrs. Bellweather, is a widow whose husband was killed by Bellatrix and she reminds Draco hourly of that fact, often with terrible jobs.
Today has been one of those days when the terrible jobs never ended. He wants to eat the food he was able to bring home (and being able to take home what they are about to throw out is the only reason he hasn't quit yet) and then go to sleep. His parents seem to have another idea. "Why are you staring at that box?" he asks as he enters their small flat. It's a room that works as kitchen, living room and dining room. They also have two bedrooms and a bath. It's practically impossible for him to avoid his parents in this flat.
"It was delivered a few minutes ago," his mother says, with a strange tone, as if she's shocked by the idea that packages could be delivered.
"We've been checking for any Dark spell, but there's nothing," his father adds, and that makes a lot more sense to Draco.
"It is from the fancy new food place," Narcissa says as if Draco can't see the logo.
"Greengrass hates it. All the rich people are going there now. A lot better quality, foods from the continent, and the selection is impressive." That explains his parents distrust and shock at the box. Draco should have thought of it before, but he's hungry. Still the few vegetables and little meat he has in the bag seem irrelevant now. "Do we keep staring or do we open it?" he asks, but there's a note of humour in his voice that seems to bring out his parents from whatever daze they are in.
"Oh Draco, of course we open it." Narcissa smiles back, but she's still careful with the box, using magic to open it. A parchment comes floating out and Narcissa grabs it before Draco can. "To the Malfoy family," she starts, reading. "It was nice seeing you again. Harry Potter."
There seems to be a pause as all three Malfoys think of a reasonable response to that. Lucius is the first one to recover. "He can't write a proper note." As insults go, that's pretty lame, but Draco supposes that even his father can appreciate the food inside.
They end up not eating anything that Draco has brought home, but feast on some of the foods that had been delivered. They probably should eat less and make it last longer, but it's been so long since they've had a good meal that they don't wants to deprive themselves. So they eat and save some for the next few days. It won't last as much as it could have, but food shouldn't be a problem for a while.
Unfortunately, a while doesn't last long enough. They try to hold off going back to the soup kitchen for no reason other than pride. After that first day, they ration the rest of the box's content, adding whatever food Draco bring home, but inevitably they run out of food and rent is due.
Draco hates being here with the poor. He tells himself that they aren't really poor as soon as they join the queue, but his mental pep talk doesn’t help. He does feel a little better when he gets inside and he can smell the roast. What he doesn't expect is another face-to-face with Potter. "Do you live here?" he says, trying to sound snotty, but ends up sounding more curious than anything else.
"I try to stop by at night after work, unless there's some emergency."
Potter puts the roast on Draco's plate and Draco can tell that he has more meat than others, but doesn't comment. When they sit down, he sees that Potter didn’t give his parents the same courtesy. He almost offers to share, but his mother smiles and shakes her head. He supposes that it'd be bad form to let others know. His father's glare doesn't seem to support that idea, but Draco is used to following his mother's lead now.
They are almost done when Potter comes to their table. Theirs isn't really accurate. They are long tables with benches, but they managed to sit at the end, with his parents on one side, and him on the other, making it feel a little less communal.
"Scoot over." Potter says, waiting for Draco to do just that and sitting down.
"Potter, what are you doing?" Draco hisses.
Potter frowns, his glasses slipping down his nose. "Sitting and talking? I tend to do that with people who come here."
Of course, Saint Potter talks to the poor (not that they are poor, he thinks once more with the same miserable result) and lonely. "It's only temporary."
"I know," Potter answered. "We're almost done with the trials and then we'll deal with the manor. We'll need access to the vault." He glares at Lucius. "If you'd just give us that bloody key, the Ministry wouldn't have to fight with Gringotts and the DMLE wouldn't drag its feet with your house."
"You must be daft-"
Narcissa puts a hand on Lucius' arm and it's enough to shut him up. "As you can imagine, there are some trust issues when it comes to the vault. The Ministry has been insistent that we can't be there. Perhaps, you could inspect the vault yourself, with any additional help you deem necessary of course, and Draco could be present. Lucius and I won't have to be there, and hopefully this could be seen as a sign of good will."
Potter sighs. "I do have other work, but I'll see if I can talk to Kingsley. He'll know the best way to convince Robards."
Draco snorts. The Minister doesn't have to convince anyone, he orders, and Potter is on first name basis with the Minister. He doesn't think that it'll be so hard. Nothing ever is for Potter.
"Would you prefer that I don’t?" Potter asks.
"No, of course not. I would prefer that you stopped being so bloody blind and accepted that people do what you say," Draco answers.
"You never did what I said," Potter rebuts.
That makes Draco laughs. "That's because I always knew you and not Harry Potter, The Saviour."
Harry groans at the moniker that is in every article. "I hate Inkwell. He can never just write my name and now other journalists are doing it too."
"It fills the page," Draco suggested with a smirk.
"You're not wrong. You were much better at making up stories about me," Potter says and they are both smiling at the many memories. "And you were also better at seeing me."
"If you mean he could see how faulty you are-," Lucius starts.
"I mean that he could see that I was just a kid, like him, fighting a war started by other people and forced into roles neither I nor Draco asked ask for," Potter answers, "but lucky for you, we both survived, because that's the only reason you're sitting here and not in Azkaban." He puts a hand on Draco's lower back while he turns his head to look at Draco. "I'll see what I can do for the vault. Hang in there." He nods at Narcissa and then leaves.
Draco is still staring at Potter's arse- no, not at his arse, that is just a mental slip, and he most definitely isn't feeling all warm and fuzzy inside, while his back feels hot where Potter's hand was-
"Stop drooling." Narcissa barely refrains from rolling her eyes.
Draco blinks. "Excuse me?"
"You know very well what I mean. You are in your own little world any time Potter is around, even during our trials. You know, maybe this is for the best, checking the vault, spending a lot of time together-." She picks up her glass and sips some water, letting Draco fill the rest.
Draco smiles. She just gave him her blessing. It doesn't matter that he doesn't have a chance in hell to be with Potter, but the fact that his mother believes in him and wants to make him happy even though he won't have the traditional family makes his heart swell.
Life used to be so much better than this, back when ignorance shielded him from pain. Now the pain is physical as he tries to make himself smaller, curling into a fetal position. They don't even bother with magic, using their heavy boots to kick him. Draco could try magic. He knows enough spells that he could seriously injure all four of them in one go, but then he'd never leave Azkaban again, so he endures until a voice pushes through the pain.
Draco doesn't recognise the spell, but the four men drop to the floor with a loud thud. He's pretty sure that they will be sore and smiles a little.
"Are you alright?" Potter crouches in front of him and casts a few healing spells.
Draco feels better by the time Potter is done casting spells, but accepts Potter's help to stand up. It's not typical behaviour for him, but nowadays, he's rarely close to anyone other than his parents. Besides, he doesn't often have a reason to touch Potter and he won't give up this opportunity.
"Thank you," he says, staring at Potter who looks back with concern in his face. "You have a way to be at the right places at the right time."
"Considering how many of those times involve life and death situation, it's more at the wrong time, but you're welcome," Potter answers, finally smiling. "I was actually coming to your flat."
Panic sets in. Is he in trouble? Are they arresting him again? What will Potter think when he sees the flat? He's not sure which one worries him the most. He only manages a simple, 'Oh?'
"I have good news. I spoke with Kingsley and he's agreed that you can be present when I search the vault. I asked Ron and Neville to help," he adds. "It'll be fine."
Draco knows that Potter is right, because as much as he dislikes Weasley and Longbottom, he knows that they can be trusted. They are too Gryffindorish not to do the right thing and they would never go against Potter. "Thank you, I really appreciate it. So when would you like to go?"
Potter shrugged. "Let me know when you can take off from work."
Draco snorts. He doesn't care if Greengrass fires him. If they get the vault back, then they'll be able to afford whatever they want, even if the manor will have to wait. "You let me know when, and I'm there."
Potter nods. "I'll owl you as soon as I clear our schedules. Not tomorrow, but probably the day after. It won't take long."
Draco could almost kiss him, but instead he thanks him again and then goes home to give his parents the good news.
The leaves are changing colour and the air is getting colder as summer turns into fall. It's taken this long for the manor to be cleared, but Draco and his parents have been home for two all days. Not that their summer was terrible. Potter came through and in a few days the vault was released, giving the Malfoys the money they needed to live comfortably, but being home is different.
Draco is planning a huge party, inviting all of his friends, when a house-elf informs him that he has a guests. He's not surprised. Most of his friends disappeared after their arrest, but now that they have their money, manor and freedom, the other families are coming around, some even asking them for help. He can admit that he's enjoying watching them apologise for cutting him off.
He wonders who it could be. Pansy still hasn't made an appearance and she is in the market for a husband, but Blaise is supposed to be back from Italy. Either could be likely, he's shocked when he enters the morning room to find Potter. "Good morning, is there a problem?"
"Why do you always assume that there's something wrong when you see me?" Potter asks with a frown that Draco finds adorable. Only Potter can be adorably clueless while looking completely in control.
"You often are in your Auror robe and it is during your work hours," Draco pointed out. "My relationship with Aurors in general isn't very good, although I admit that you have always been very helpful."
Potter chuckles. "Imagine if your younger self heard you say that."
"My younger self wouldn't believe many of the things that have happened." Draco doesn't do humble well, but Potter has seen him at his worst over and over and he's always been there to help. Never - not once - he's made fun of Draco. "He also wouldn't believe how much I'd end up owing you."
Potter shakes his head. "You owe me nothing. I did what is right. No more and no less."
Draco knows that Potter believes that completely. "Still, I am grateful for what you've done." He points to the couch. "Would you like to take a seat? Tea?"
"Sure." With a grin, Potter sits down. "Coffee would be better. I wanted to be here to make sure that everything went smoothly when you returned, but I was busy with a case, and I just got off."
Draco frowns, a little confused and then it suddenly occurs to him that Potter isn't skivving off, but he's finally off duty after days from what it sounds like. "Are you mad? Why aren't you home and sleeping?"
"There's something that I need to ask and I've been waiting since I saw you at the soup kitchen." Potter rubs the back of his head, messing up his hair even more. He looks nervous, but Draco stays quiet, knowing that Potter will say what he wants when he's ready. "I didn't want to ask before you were back at the manor."
"And I'm here now, so you couldn't possibly wait until you had some sleep, but had to rush here," Draco finishes, genuinely amused by how much Potter hasn't changed. "Out with it, then. The sooner you say whatever you have to say, the sooner you can rest."
"Will you go out with me?" Potter says, although the question is barely one. Potter has never been one for indecision.
Draco blinks a few times. He knows that Potter and Weasley split up a few months after she finished school. It's been in every paper. Since then, there have been numerous articles about Weasley's new boyfriends, Draco assumes that at least half are made up simply because anytime she's been in public with a man, a new story has come out. On the other hand, there hasn't been anything on Potter. "Are you- I thought you-"
"Having a problems with words, Malfoy?" Potter asks, grinning again. "You can just agree with me for once in your life and make things easy for us. Otherwise, I'll just have to prove to you that I'm right and we'll miss even more time."
"Make things easy?" It seems impossible after the last four years. He almost doesn’t want to believe it. A simple yes would give him everything he wants, but he can't make himself believe. "Why? Why now? Why did you wait?"
"Because I didn't want anyone to think that I was helping you because I wanted to get into your pants. Because I didn't want you to think that my help was conditional on you going out with me. Because I want you to have the chance to say no and nothing happens," Potter answers. "You have everything back. You're free. You can do anything you want-"
"I want to go out with you." The words are out of his mouth before he can stop himself, surprising both himself and Potter, if Draco is reading his expression correctly. "I don't want to make it hard- Well, okay, I might want that," he said with a grin, "but not in that way. I'm tired, Potter. Tired of fighting, tired of surviving, tired of feeling like nothing is how it should be, but you are not now and wouldn't have been before a forced choice. When Aunt Bella brought you here, face all swollen, and ready to hand you over to the Dark Lord, I knew that I didn't want you to die and not just because you were the best person to kill him, but because I cared about you." He almost says that Potter should have said something sooner, but that's wrong. "You made the right choice about waiting. As much as I would have liked to have you around in the past two years, I doubt I would be free and home if the public found out that we were together."
"I know." Potter reaches for Draco's hand squeezing it gently. "I've spent so much time thinking about you, worrying about you. It was obvious that I cared about you. It's why Ginny and I broke up, but I also knew what would happen. But now, we can try and see where this goes. Dinner and a film? We can go in Muggle London so no one sees us for now, and maybe we can try something truly daring, like using first names."
Draco laughs at the last part. "I suppose we can, but I might slip up." The rest makes sense. He knows Potter isn't ashamed of them, but the two of them together would cause a shit storm. It's much easier to keep it private for now, even if it means going into Muggle London. "When then?"
"No better time like the present, or after a few hours of sleep. See you at seven, 12 Grimmauld Place. You should know where that is," Potter says.
Draco knows where it is, also knows that it's under Fidelius, but Potter just gave the information like it's the most natural thing in the world. "I'll be there."
"Good. I should go now." They both stand and then there's a moment of hesitation, before Harry leans in and kisses Draco gently. "I'll see you tonight."
Draco can't wait. He knows they are meant to be and now they finally will have that chance. And to think that it all started with a soup kitchen.