Mark Me Yours - Chapter Three (Harry/Draco)
Title: Mark Me Yours
Author: digthewriter
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco. Original characters. Some Weasleys.
Warnings/Content Notes: Possible OOC. Short-tempered Harry. Confusion. Longing. Angst. Magical tattoos. Moving Art. Fluffy ending. Made up Pureblood rituals, and some magic history. (Also, not sure if I should warn for: UST)
Word Count: ~45,000 (total fic) / Chapter Three: ~10,200
Read Chapter One
Read Chapter Two
*
The next day Draco awoke later than usual. Potter had told him that they weren't going to the shop on Saturday so he could sleep in. He took full advantage of that option and woke up leisurely some time past ten o'clock.
He had woken up in the middle of the night a few times and made his way to the bathroom to check on his tattoo. He still couldn't believe that he was inked, and the feeling was rather staggering.
By the time he made his way to the kitchen for breakfast, the house seemed eerily quiet. "Where is everyone?" he asked Asha as he took his seat at the table.
"Bhim and Avi have gone to the market. She said she wanted to purchase a new outfit for Monsieur Orléans' feast, and Mr Potter has gone to visit the family."
"The family?" Draco asked, surprised.
"Yes. The Weasleys," Asha answered. "He goes to visit the children. He is the godfather, you know."
"Oh. Granger and Weasley-I mean Hermione and Ron's children? Have you met them?" Draco felt like he'd slept through to a parallel universe where he was utterly alone again. No Avi, no Potter.
"Yes. Rose and Hugo are Hermione and Ron's children. They certainly are the most delightful pair. And Fred and Roxanne, they belong to George and Angelina. But, Mr Potter is only the godfather for Rose and Hugo. I believe Charlie and Bill are godfathers to George's kids. I've only met them a handful of times. They don't stop by much. Mr Potter likes to visit rather than have people over."
"Okay," Draco said and finished his breakfast in silence. "I'll be in the library for the rest of the day," he announced and got up to leave the kitchen. He felt Asha's eyes on him, but didn't turn to ask her why she was looking at him. He was sure she had something to say, but Draco wasn't in the mood for Asha's chipper excerpts.
*
Draco spent most of the day in the library, looking through history books in search of anything of relevance towards the Orléans' family. He really had never heard of them and he wondered how had they managed to stay off the radar for so many years that their family name never came up in conversation. Not even from his father, who was always aware of every Pureblood family around him.
After what seemed like hours of research, Draco came across A Guide to Medieval Sorcery where an Antoinette Orléans had poisoned her husband by slowly mixing a blue elixir in his wine every night for over a year. She was the first witch ever accused and caught for poisoning her husband. She'd never really been caught, though. The story was that after being found out for her use of the Dark potion-which was really a translucent blue-she'd vanished with her female lover.
Draco wondered if this was some sort of an insight in the Orléans family. Were they related to this Antoinette who'd apparently vanished into thin air and wasn't seen again until she was drawing her last breath at a hospital bed?
Did the Orléans have magical spells that they'd preserved as a family secret for generations?
Draco shook his head at this faux-detective work. Clearly he'd spent too much time on his own and was reading too much into something that probably didn't even exist. It was an intriguing idea, though, he thought.
His research was put on hold when he heard someone enter the library. It was Avi.
"Hey, there you are!" Avi said with what seemed like genuine excitement. "I've got a present for you!"
*
It was quiet in the house as Draco was getting dressed for the evening. He was nervous, and if it’d been his way, he probably would have stayed at the house. But it had already been decided that he was going to accompany Avi to the Orléans’ feast.
She’d bought him a new pair of trousers and a starch white shirt for the evening. She claimed that Potter had given her the money when she’d went shopping with Bhim two days ago. It was the fact that she was all smiles that Draco couldn’t say no to her. It was her night to shine, as she was so incredibly proud of being tattooed, as someday Draco might be as well.
Potter had kept his distance for the next few days. Ever since he’d returned from visiting the Weasleys. Draco wasn’t sure if Potter was staying away from just him, or the entire household. According to Asha, it wasn’t a big deal. Business as usual. According to Asha, everything was always business as usual. He wondered how long someone could hold a secret around her and act suspicious until she’d notice. Would she ever notice? Certainly, she’d never noticed the way Alexis looked at her. Draco wondered if the others had noticed and just didn’t say anything.
The first time he’d seen Alexis’s admiring gaze upon Asha, he’d assumed that they were married, only to find out that they weren’t, or if they were it was rather odd that they slept in separate rooms. Then Asha had mentioned something about her ex-husband, and Alexis in casual conversation had once told Draco that he’d "never married."
So, Alexis was rather fond of Asha, and Asha, if she knew, was relatively good at playing nonchalant. Maybe she’d thought that Potter would sack them if they shacked up together. Or, she simply wasn’t attracted to the man.
Business as usual.
A knock on the door yanked Draco out of his thoughts. It was Alexis. "Draco, Mr Potter has requested your presence at the shop," he said.
"At the shop? Now?" Draco asked, confused, and slid his arm into the white shirt hurriedly.
"Oh, you best not wear that shirt," Alexis said.
"Why?" Draco asked, still very confused. What did Potter want? Now? After not speaking to Draco for days.
"Not sure, but he said to have you stop by the shop wearing the trousers you’d be wearing tonight but just an old shirt. I reckon he’s got something planned for you."
"Planned? Like what?"
"Best hurry up if you’d like to know. The shop’s attic, to be exact."
"Okay," Draco said and Alexis left his room. Draco grabbed the first shirt he found in his cupboard and put it on. Then, he Disapparated to the attic of the shop-the non-Muggle room.
It took a while to adjust his eyes to the room. It wasn’t dark, but it wasn’t fully lit, either. There were candles lit in every corner, and a few floated near the ceiling.
"Potter?" Draco called out as he couldn’t find Potter in the shadows.
"Here." A voice came from the corner and Draco saw Potter stand up from the recliner chair, a glass of Firewhisky in hand.
"You called for me?"
"Yes. I have something for you," Potter answered. His voice was even, almost unconcerned, and Draco couldn’t understand what Potter wanted from him-rather give him. He still couldn’t shake off the feeling of being avoided for days.
"Take off your shirt," Potter said, and turned towards his worktable. It seemed Potter had a worktable everywhere he went. It was also just as disorganised as the rest of them.
Draco did as ordered and turned to face Potter again; he was holding a small container and a fine paintbrush.
"What is it?" Draco asked.
"Even though you’re not doing a showing of your own ink tonight, you still are attending a feast with one of my oeuvres," Potter said. "The notice of the feast did not provide me with enough time to ink you properly. Still, you will need to be adorned of my art. This will have to do for now."
"You’re going to paint on me?" Draco wondered as he was completely surprised by the idea. He had no idea.
"That is usually my policy," Potter said. "I cannot send a canvas up for display without any art to show for it."
"Oh," Draco said, almost absentmindedly. And then again, before he could stop himself, he spoke, "I didn’t think I’d be seeing any of your art on me again, given that I’ve barely seen you for days."
"I was busy," Potter responded, defensively. Too defensively, Draco thought. "You aren’t the only thing that requires my attention."
Right. How could Draco forget: he was a thing. "Alright. How will you have me?" he asked.
"Just stand here," Potter said pointing at the corner where a full-length mirror was situated. "In front of the mirror, and try to keep still."
Draco rolled his eyes at the comment. He’d only really flinched that one time, and it wasn’t even like he was being inked under a needle. It was just paint.
Potter twisted his wrist and two of the floating candles came gliding towards them. Draco felt his body go warm, and he couldn’t decide if it was because of the warmth of the flames or if he truly was nervous again. He promised himself that he wouldn’t flinch.
He heard Potter dip the brush into the pot of paint and then the tip touched the back of his shoulder. It was cool-cooler than Draco had anticipated and his body shivered.
"Steady," Potter whispered and Draco felt the warmth of Potter’s breath on his skin.
Draco didn’t respond and just hung his head low, concentrating on not shivering again. Not feeling anything. He allowed his shoulders to relax and took a deep breath in. He really had no idea what was wrong with him.
Potter worked on his back for a while and then moved to his left arm. The swishes of the brush, and the crackling of the wick from the candle was the only noise in the room for a long time. It was as if they were breathing in unison because Draco hadn’t even heard Potter breathe, every time Draco released a breath, it was like, Potter did too.
"Turn around," Potter said and Draco obliged. He didn’t dare turn his head to look at the reflection in the mirror. He wondered what Potter had been drawing on him.
Potter seemed to stare at Draco’s chest for a while. Draco studied Potter’s face, as Potter studied him. His face was scrunched up in concentration, his tongue gently darted out touching his top lip. Was that his thinking face?
"Okay," Potter said and then turned to his table again and grabbed another pot of paint. It looked like it was a different colour. "Arms up," he said and returned back to work.
Draco stayed in the position with his arms stretched out for what felt like an hour. It was painful. But, the fact that he felt Potter’s breath on him, take in his scent, made him forget that at times. When Potter would pull away, Draco’s arms would hurt, and when Potter was close to him again, Draco had trouble breathing, so the pain didn't matter. It was the strangest exchange of emotions, and Draco focused more on that than the pain.
"Very well then. Arms down," Potter instructed and Draco followed suit.
Potter switched out the pot of paint again for a third one and worked on the front of Draco’s right arm. Ten more minutes, and they were done. Potter grabbed his wand and placed a drying spell on Draco so the paint on his body dried evenly. Then he took his finger and traced the design, first on his chest, then the back of his neck, and then all the way down to the small of his back. Draco shivered again.
"Sorry, it is a bit chilly in here," Potter said and handed Draco a vest. It was hanging on the back of the chair that Potter had been sitting at earlier that evening.
"It’s for you," Potter said. "So you can display the art properly. You won’t be able to show anything if you wore the shirt Avi had bought. This is better display clothes."
Draco wondered if Avi had shown all her purchases for Draco to Potter first. Did Potter have to approve them before she could present them to Draco?
"Can I see the art first? Before I put on the vest, I mean," Draco asked and Potter shook his head as if he was in disbelief.
"Of course," Potter said. "Sorry, I get carried away sometimes." His tone was a lot friendlier than it had been all night. Perhaps he was impressed with his own artwork.
Draco turned around to look at his reflection. His breath was almost caught in his throat when he took in the sight. It was a… "Hungarian Horntail?" he asked and Potter nodded. The front of the dragon was painted on Draco’s chest, his right arm when moved slightly gave the illusion of the dragon breathing on Draco’s arm. He turned to look at his back and saw the entire dragon drawn all over his upper body.
Every time Draco moved his left arm, it looked like the dragon was moving, and if he moved his right, it looked as though the Dragon was breathing. It was magic, except, there wasn’t any magic involved. It was just the trick of the eye. It was sheer genius.
"Potter, this is…" Draco turned to look at Potter who seemed flustered himself.
"Do you like it?" Potter asked, his gaze still travelling over the dragon.
"It’s bloody brilliant!" Draco exclaimed. He really was trying to not seem utterly impressed but knew that he was completely failing at that. "Is this going to be my tattoo design?"
Potter shook his head. "No. This is just a party trick," he said. "Besides, wouldn’t it be a bit cliché for me to ink you with a Dragon, and a Hungarian Horntail at that?"
Draco nodded. Potter was right, but Draco loved the artwork so much, he wasn’t sure if he ever wanted to be apart from it. Potter had craftily left the Dark Mark on Draco’s arm alone, but the presence of the dragon on his body almost made the Mark fade out.
"When you’re back from your…event. Perhaps we can go over some designs for your real ink," Potter said.
"It’s not exactly my event," Draco replied. Even after being painted on with stunning artwork, Draco still wasn’t in the mood to socialise. He wasn’t sure if he ever wanted to be around the likes of Pureblood wizards again. Instead of being something that was made for display, and earn an income in such a manner, Draco preferred just minding the shop for Potter.
"You best get ready, Avi will be waiting and I think the Floo call is due shortly."
"The Floo call?" Draco asked.
"Yeah, that’s usually how the Orléans operate. They contact us via the Floo when it’s time to leave, and Avi Apparates to the location instructed. Usually Bhim accompanies her, but I suppose it’ll just be the two of you today."
"Will it be-I mean-have you been?"
"I stopped going to his parties ages ago, and from what I hear from Avi, nothing’s really changed. You’ll be fine, Draco. Don’t worry. Avi will make sure of it." Potter smiled and returned to his desk and began to clean up the paint pots and the brushes he’d been using.
"You’re not coming?" Draco asked, cursing himself for sounding so needy.
"No, I’ve got some work to catch up on. I’ll see you lot later," Potter said and didn’t turn to look at Draco again.
Unsure of why he was just so disappointed, Draco Disapparated back to Grimmauld Place.
*
Even though it had been a while for Draco, the feast, he recognised was nothing short of Pureblood glory. It was the kinds of parties he’d seen his parents throw when he was a child. Every room was lit with grand chandeliers, and house-elves circulating around waiting on everyone’s hand and foot.
The room nearly came to a daunting silence when Avi and Draco arrived. Their travelling cloaks had been taken from them, and they were on full display.
Avi held onto Draco’s arm from the moment they’d entered the room. It looked as though she was leaning on him when he knew that she really held him to show him support. He reckoned that she didn’t want him to make her look bad.
Initially, he was self-conscious about the size and the snugness of the vest Potter had given him, but he’d realised that it really was cut to display the art best. Avi wore a long dark brown skirt that rested low on her hips along with just a piece of cloth that covered her breasts. Whatever Draco had felt about the littleness of his clothing was nothing compared to hers. However, he’d also not seen a woman dressed as little as she had and carry as much confidence as she did. Again, he found himself impressed with Avi Naya.
He also sighed with great relief when Avi pointed out other guests at the party that were also "on display." Most of them were seated next to-what looked like-their masters; some were kneeling on the floor, and others were sat in their master’s lap. He wondered if this was what was in store in his future. Finding a rich Pureblood witch or wizard that would treat him like a pet. Unlike-unlike Potter who-
"Avi! So wonderful to see you here!"
Draco’s thought was cut short when a woman nearly jumped them and pulled Avi in for a hug. She was beautiful. She wore dark red robes, her hair was let loose with dark and wavy curls, and she was accompanied by two men that stood just a few feet away. It was no doubt that this was the woman of the hour: the Orléans sister that held the honour of the engagement feast.
Draco looked past her to the two men standing behind her. They bore similar features, so they had to be Jacque and Emmanuel Orléans. The younger of the two had held Draco’s gaze and didn’t flinch until Draco looked away.
Draco couldn’t help but wonder if he had been recognised for being who he was, Draco Malfoy-former Death Eater, or if it was his art that had caught the man’s attention. No one at the feast so far had given a second look for his face, but they had all stared at his dragon.
"Marie, please allow me to introduce to you my ink-master’s newly selected oeuvre, Draco Malfoy. Draco this is my dearest Marie Orléans and her darling brothers Monsieur Jacque and Monsieur Emmanuel Orléans.
Jacque Orléans only nodded at Draco, looking at him like he was just some dirt Avi had dragged in, whereas, Emmanuel took Draco’s hand and leant down to kiss it. That gesture in itself left Draco speechless and when he turned to look at Avi, her eyes were widened in disbelief.
She caught Draco’s eyes and smiled tightly before giving her attention to Jacque Orléans again.
"It’s a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Orléans," Draco said when the other man had released it.
"Please, call me Emmanuel. Monsieur Orléans is my brother."
Draco was a bit taken back by the man’s speech. He’d been under the impression that they’d stayed in France and Switzerland their entire life, but the man had an English accent. He’d barely heard the other two siblings talk, so he wasn’t sure about them, yet.
"As you wish," Draco said and turned to shake Marie Orléans’ hand. She seemed mesmerised by Draco’s artwork.
"Malfoy," Jacque Orléans said, "as in…"
"Everything that went wrong in the war, Malfoy, yes," Draco quickly interjected. He smiled at the Orléans and felt Avi’s gaze on him; he was too afraid to look in her direction.
"So this is what it’s come down to, then?" Monsieur Orléans said arrogantly.
"Well, it is a step above being locked up in Azkaban," Draco answered. He quickly glanced towards Emmanuel who was smiling at him.
"Not now, Brother," Marie cut in and spoke quickly. "We have guests and we do not have time for you to pass judgement on others." She turned towards Avi and started to pull her away. "Avi, come. Let me introduce you to my fiancé."
Draco stood awkwardly alone in the centre of the room as Avi was gone with Marie and Jacque Orléans had also turned and walked away.
"Would you like to take a walk, Draco?" Emmanuel asked and held out his arm for Draco to hold.
Draco followed suit and nodded, a bit reluctantly. "Sure," he said. It was clear from Emmanuel’s gestures that he was interested in Draco, but he had to wonder to what degree. Also, Draco hoped that Emmanuel would stop treating him like he was a girl. He may have arrived at the party with Avi and was also a hired art piece, but he was also a man. He hoped Emmanuel would soon start to treat him like one.
As Emmanuel led Draco out of the banquet hall towards the back of the mansion, he felt the gaze of the other guests on him. Some did have a look of recognition in their eyes, but most were still only looking at him for his art (or maybe just his body). It was a weird experience, Draco thought. He wasn’t used to this sort of attention. He was mostly familiar with wizards closing or slamming their doors at him, or scowling at him. No one had ever looked at him in awe, even when his name wasn’t as tainted as it was now.
"What do you think of the house?" Emmanuel asked when they stood at the balcony looking over the gardens.
"It’s very nice," Draco answered. The garden reminded him of his mother immediately, and Draco struggled to not let that sad thought show upon his face.
"Nothing like the Malfoy Manor, I suppose," Emmanuel said.
Draco smiled, wondering how Emmanuel Orléans knew so much about him, and he knew almost nothing about the Orléans. "It had its moments."
"What’s happened to it now?"
Draco took in a deep sigh. It seemed like he was doing that a lot that night. "It’s Gringotts’ property now, I reckon they’ll sell it to the Ministry and the Ministry will either auction it off or turn it into a library of sorts-"
"That’s too bad. The pictures of that place-it’s really something."
Draco inadvertently frowned. "How do you know so much about-me?"
"Well, you are famous," Emmanuel answered.
"And why is it that you’re not?" he asked. Emmanuel chuckled but didn’t answer. "Are you related to Antoinette Orléans?"
Emmanuel’s gaze snapped away from the garden and to Draco’s face immediately. "How do you know that name?"
"I read," Draco said. "Is that why I’ve never heard of you? Your family has some sort of a secret and you all hid yourself from the Dark-" Draco’s questions were stopped mid-sentence when Emmanuel Orléans pulled Draco towards him and pressed his lips to Draco’s.
His body immediately stiffened up with shock. Did that just happen? He’d just met this man not ten minutes prior and he was expecting to shove his tongue down Draco’s throat? Draco had suspected that there was something going on between Avi and Jacque but what did the Orléans expect that all of Potter’s charges would feign over them? Did they expect to have some sort of control that Draco was not aware of?
Emmanuel eventually pulled back when he realised that Draco wasn’t kissing him back.
"Sorry, I just-I wanted to do that since you arrived and I-"
"Still have to answer my questions if you’re expecting me to kiss you back," Draco said. He couldn’t deny his attraction to the man but Draco wasn’t that easy to swoon over someone.
"So you would kiss me back?"
"If you would tell me more about yourself."
Emmanuel laughed and he grabbed Draco’s hand, interlacing his fingers with Draco’s. "Will you sit next to me at the feast table?"
Draco was nearly stunned speechless again. "Of course. It’ll be an honour-"
"No. Don’t. Please don’t."
"Don’t what?" Draco asked.
"The formality-it’s fine when Avi does it. It’s fine if you’re like this with my brother, but with me-I’d rather not. I just want to be able to have a conversation. I am not made for this Pureblood formalities. I never was."
Draco tipped his head regarding what Emmanuel had just stated. "Avi mentioned that you were doing charity work for a while. Teachers Without Borders, was it?"
"Yes. It took a lot of convincing for the family to be okay with it. But I had to remind them that by the time we were going to be known in society again…" Emmanuel paused to roll his eyes. "My term would be over and I would help take over the business with my brother."
"And you’re happy?" Draco asked.
"Sure! I gave the programme a good ten years of my life, and now I am ready to be with family again. Although, I’d wished that by this time the traditions and formalities wouldn’t be so old-fashioned still, but I suppose you can’t have everything."
"So, tell me. Why have I never heard of the Orléans before? If you’re one of the oldest wizarding families from France second to the Greengrass family...and, why do all of you have English accents?"
"Second to the Greengrass-Merlin, don’t let my brother hear you say that," Emmanuel said. He ran his hand through his dark black hair and looked at Draco. "So you’re certain that the Malfoys would have heard of the Orléans if there wasn’t any "magic" involved?" he asked air quoting the word magic. Clearly, he was shaken up by the mention of Antoinette Orléans, and evidently Draco’s research and hypothesis had been correct.
Draco tried not to smile at the thought; he loved being right. "Yes. My father would have told me about them."
"You sound very sure of yourself."
Draco was immediately reminded of his first meeting with Potter at Lily’s tattoo shop. He’d asked the same thing to Potter. He chuckled, remembering Potter’s reaction and the absurdity of his life. A very attractive, rich, Pureblood man wanted to snog Draco, and here he was, asking the man questions that didn’t really matter, and thinking about Potter.
Draco realised he'd been quiet for too long.
"Fine! I’ll tell you," Emmanuel said, faking exasperation. "You are right about your assumption to what you said about our past," he said, being vague as Draco had expected him to be. "When your Dark Lord had come to power, my family was beckoned to serve him. My grandfather decided that we were not going to do that, so he managed to pay off some historians and our name was erased from the books as a registered Pureblood family. We were able to hide out in Switzerland under a fake name and we utilised an old magic trick that’s been in our family for generations."
Draco opened his mouth to say something but Emmanuel stopped him with the raise of his hand. "That is all I’m going to say about it. Don’t ask me what the spell is because I’m unable to tell you and honestly, I shouldn’t have told you as much as I did. But most of my family is already dead, the only family I do have is in this house, and they really aren’t going to care what I say to whom. We’re all bound by the Unbreakable Vow so we are unable to disclose significant details, no matter how much you try to probe me." He poked Draco’s stomach with his finger, and then his hand lingered on Draco’s skin longer than it was necessary.
Draco cleared his throat and Emmanuel quickly withdrew his hand. "So why did you tell me? Any of it?" he asked.
Emmanuel turned away from Draco and looked towards the gardens again; his hands were gripping the balcony railing tightly. He seemed to think over his answer before speaking. "Not sure," he said, sounding genuine. "I reckon no one’s really questioned me like that before, and definitely no one’s even come close to guessing. I suppose I was impressed and thought you deserved an honest answer."
He looked at Draco and beamed.
"It’s just that simple, then?"
"I’m a simple man," Emmanuel answered. Draco found that hard to believe. There were no simple men in Draco’s life.
Their conversation was interrupted when Avi came out in the balcony looking for Draco. "There you are," she said smiling and then glanced over at Emmanuel and bowed slightly. He turned to look at Draco and rolled his eyes again.
Draco couldn’t help but smile. This night was already so different from what he’d imagined it would be.
The look that Avi gave Draco ensured him that she hadn’t missed the exchange between Draco and Emmanuel. "Draco, we’re going to need to take our seats for dinner. The feast is about to begin."
"Draco is going to sit next to me at the table," Emmanuel announced before Draco had a chance to reply to Avi.
The action slightly annoyed Draco. He hated being talked about as if he wasn’t in the room. It was enough to deal with that in the Potter household, he’d hoped that if he was out, the least he could expect was to be regarded as a person.
"Oh?" Avi said, sounding shocked; she didn't even try to hide it.
"I assume you were going to sit next to my brother," Emmanuel added. Draco supposed he’d recognised the surprise in Avi.
"I’m not-"
"I’ll go and make the arrangements," he said. "Why don’t the two of you wait here, and I will have one of the house-elves come by and fetch you when we’re ready." He nodded towards them and left the balcony without another glance.
"You’re fitting in well," Avi said; she sounded impressed.
"Just making conversation," Draco replied and turned to look towards the gardens. "It’s beautiful out here, I can see why you like coming here so much. I suppose the garden is lovely on a summer afternoon."
Avi hummed. "Yeah, I suppose it is. But, I don’t exactly come here for the gardens."
"I suppose not. Marie Orléans seems rather fond of you, too," Draco said. He turned to look at Avi who smiled softly at him. "What’s the matter?"
"Why would something be the matter?" She raised an eyebrow.
"I’ve lived with you long enough to know your smiles," Draco said. "This one hasn’t reached your eyes."
"She thinks that they’re going to move back to France after the wedding. The entire family, so-"
"Maybe you can go with them," Draco said.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, your contract is about to be finished with Potter. By the time the wedding rolls around and they’ll be moving, you’ll be free. Maybe you can move there, I’m sure there are plenty of families that throw feasts who’d require your services. And you can travel anywhere with a Portkey."
"Is that what you plan to do?"
"I have no idea what I’m going to do. I’ve barely got any ink on me."
A house-elf Apparated into the balcony and startled the both of them. "Your presence is requested for the feast," he announced and then Disapparated.
Avi gave Draco the most peculiar look and he couldn’t help but feel as though he’d said something that was out of line. He thought that she and him were getting along so well, and whatever he’d just said had evidently broken the truce between them.
*
Emmanuel was true to his word and Avi was in fact sitting next to Jacque Orléans at the head of the table. She seemed satisfied enough and Draco wondered if this was the first time it’d happened. Had Emmanuel’s desire to have Draco sit next to him changed the way things worked? Did Avi usually sit somewhere else even if she almost always was Monsieur Orléans’ guest?
This could have explained Avi’s odd behaviour from earlier, Draco thought. Perhaps Draco’s presence had a bigger impact that he’d realised. More than she’d realised. Bringing Draco to the feast at first seemed like an act of retaliation towards Potter, but now, it seemed to have taken a life of its own.
During the feast, as dinner was served and guests talked to the each other, Emmanuel Orléans continued to grab Draco’s hand under the table. Draco would roll his eyes and pull his hand back pretending to take a sip from his drink or use the knife to cut his meat. Unfortunately for him, Emmanuel found just the right time to flirt with Draco-exactly when Avi was looking at them.
Draco wasn’t interested in Emmanuel, not in that way anyway. He was intrigued by the man, and he sure was attractive, but attachment, romance, or even casual sex was the last thing from Draco’s mind. He also wasn’t sure how any sort of a relationship or attachment would play into his contract with Potter.
What if it was against the rules? Draco had no idea. He didn’t even know who he’d ask. He glanced over at Avi and saw that Monsieur Orléans had leaned in and whispered something to her. She batted her eyelashes at him and Draco saw a blush creep up on her shoulders.
He wondered if Avi was involved in a sexual relationship with Jacque, and if Potter was aware of it. Is that why Potter was so cross with her?
He dismissed the idea when Emmanuel rubbed the back of his hand on Draco’s right arm-right over the flames that Potter had painted on. He shivered with the thought of Potter’s touch.
"Spend the night with me," Emmanuel said.
"I’m sorry. What?" Draco nearly choked on his dessert.
"Avi’s going to sleep here tonight. She’ll be with Jacque. Why don’t you stay with me?"
"I-I’m not sure if that’s such a good idea…"
"Why? Afraid I’ll ruin your paint?" Emmanuel teased.
"Not exactly. I thought we were returning tonight. If Avi’s going to be spending the night, and if you do not have a spare guestroom for me, I can Floo to my-I mean Potter-" Draco flustered over the words. I’ll just Floo to my Potter? Draco, what is wrong with you?
"Don’t be ridiculous. This mansion has over 15 guestrooms! That isn’t the point. Stay with me."
"You know how you suggested earlier to not to be formal with you?" Draco asked and Emmanuel nodded, his eyes wide as if Draco was going to serve him dessert. "Thank you. But, I won’t."
"Oh," Emmanuel said.
"I’ll speak with Avi, and I’m sure I can just go back…home tonight." Strange. Potter had always called it home when they were together, but Draco had yet to utter the words.
"It’s alright," Emmanuel said, sounding resigned. "I’ll have a room set up for you."
"Don’t you have servants for that? House-elves? Do you do everything yourself?" Draco asked. It was odd that the man had taken charge for all his tasks that night, meanwhile, the only work Jacque Orléans had done was ask Avi to sleep in his room.
Sleep. Draco wondered how much sleeping they’d be doing.
As dinner was over and the musicians still continued to play, Emmanuel asked Draco to dance with him. It wasn’t as odd as Draco would have thought-there were plenty of people in the banquet hall, dancing.
He looked around the room and couldn’t find Avi or Monsieur Orléans anywhere. Figuring that they’d retired for the night already, Draco’s tension alleviated and he gave in to Emmanuel’s request.
"Are you sure I cannot convince you to stay with me?" Emmanuel asked one last time as he walked Draco to the guest room.
"Do you want the formal response or the one-word answer?" Draco asked.
"Doesn’t really matter, does it?" Emmanuel said. "It won’t be in the affirmative."
"Thank you for your company and the dance-"
"Oh, stop!" Emmanuel said, rolling his eyes again.
"No, I mean it: it was lovely. I had a wonderful time. If you can do me one more favour?"
"Name it," Emmanuel said immediately.
"Will you please make sure Avi knows that I’m here so that we can leave together in the morning?"
Emmanuel nodded. Draco offered his hand for Emmanuel to shake it and the man looked at him like he had two heads. He pulled Draco in for a tight embrace and then all but pushed him against the wall before kissing him. This time, Draco kissed him back and he could feel Emmanuel’s delight in receiving that response from Draco. His hand travelled up Draco’s back and then grabbed the lock of his hair, deepening the kiss.
When he pulled away from Draco, Draco felt a pool of heat on the back of his spine. He had half a heart to continue the kiss, but knew better. His head had to win out on whatever else his body had wanted. He had his future to think about and this wasn’t some dark alley behind a no-name Muggle pub that would allow Draco to give into his desire. This was a very important man, he stood in a very important house, and he was probably being watched-even if it felt like they were alone.
Draco had come from a Pureblood family. He was very aware of the fact that the walls had both eyes and ears. Emmanuel might have forgotten or might not have cared, but Draco knew better. The last thing he wanted was Avi or Jacque finding out. Or worse, Potter.
*
Draco woke up to a faint knock at the door. He wasn’t sure if the person knocking intended to wake him or not, but since he’d barely slept the night before, it didn’t take him long to gain consciousness.
"Yes?" he muttered as he grabbed his trousers and pulled them on. Avi opened the door and entered the room.
"Oh, you are alone," she said, sounding surprised.
"Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?" he asked.
"I just thought-wasn’t sure if Emmanuel had spent the night here."
"If he and I were going to spend the night, we most likely would have been in his quarters, not in the guestroom," Draco said. He looked around for a shirt and realised that he’d only been wearing a vest when he’d arrived. The doorkeeper upon their arrival had collected his and Avi’s travelling cloaks. "Bloody hell," he mumbled to himself. He didn’t want to walk about the house in his clothes from last night. He wished that Avi had warned him about bringing dress robes.
It was as if someone had read his mind that a house-elf appeared at the door and knocked. "Master Emmanuel has send clothes for Draco Malfoy," he said and offered Draco a set of dark blue robes. They looked brand new.
"Oh," Draco said collecting them from the house-elf’s hands and then thanked him. The house-elf disappeared instantly, and Draco didn’t hesitate to put the clothes on. He didn’t want to return to Grimmauld Place looking completely undignified.
"Well, we best go home then," Avi said, giving Draco a once over before leaving the room. Draco hurried after her.
They arrived to Grimmauld Place via the Floo and Asha came rushing towards them.
"Didn’t think you were going to spend the night," she said, and Draco realised she was looking just at him. He supposed Avi spent the night usually.
Draco felt nervous all of a sudden. "It was late and-"
"Did you have a good time?" Asha asked.
Draco nodded. "Yes. It was fun," he said. "I must take a bath, though. I feel exhausted and I barely slept." Asha raised an eyebrow at that and Draco chuckled. "The bed didn’t sit well with me. I think I’m already used to the mattress here."
He made his way to his room and was glad to be back home. He wished that he’d just returned the night before. Surely, if Asha was sceptical of his arrival this morning, Draco only wondered what Potter would have been thinking.
When he returned to the kitchen, Avi was sitting at the table, practically inhaling the eggs and toast. Draco’d never seen her eat that way before, but realised that she’d barely touched her food at the feast the night before. Poor thing must have been famished.
"Eggs and bacon?" Asha asked and Draco nodded only too eagerly.
"Will Potter be joining us for breakfast?" he asked.
Asha let out a hearty laugh. "Oh I don’t think Mr Potter will be joining us at all today," she said. When both Avi and Draco gave her a questioning look, she continued. "Finished off four bottles of wine last night. By himself. First, I thought he was going to go out, visit the family, but the first half bottle turned into another. Then just past midnight--didn’t stop drinking until the fourth one had finished and he all but fell asleep on the sofa!"
"Really?" Avi asked, sounding fascinated. It was as if she’d never seen or heard of Potter being drunk before. She’d stayed at the house for nearly three years; surely, she must have witnessed it.
Asha nodded. "Yeah, poor Bhim had to drag Mr Potter’s arse up the stairs. He said he wouldn’t be able to handle being Apparated into his room. Bhim didn’t question him. No one wants to get vomited on by a drunken man."
"So he’s just going to sleep it off, then?" Draco asked.
"Most likely. I sent the breakfast up to his rooms and he barely touched it. Just wanted coffee." Asha clearly had thought the scenario was too comical. Draco was glad to know that when things weren’t business as usual, she’d find them entertaining.
After breakfast, Draco returned to his room for a nap. When he woke several hours later, he made his way to the library to see if he could find more records in the history books on the Orléans. He was surprised to see Avi sitting-on what he’d deemed as his favourite chair-reading.
"Hi," he said quietly, making sure he didn’t disturb her too much. She looked up and smiled but didn’t say anything in return.
Draco had hoped that he could do his research in private so instead of looking through the history books, he opted for a mystery novel and sat across from Avi. She seemed too concentrated on the page in front of her, but Draco could tell that she wasn’t reading.
They stayed quiet and even though the silence was daunting, Draco hadn’t said a word. Neither had Avi. Whatever truce they had between them, seemed to have dissolved and Draco was sad for it. He wasn’t really sure what Avi’s issue was with him, he wasn’t her competition. Not really. If she’d just tell him what she wanted, perhaps Draco could provide that for her.
Eventually, Draco started to read his book and he’d almost forgotten all about Avi sitting there. She turned a page after a while, so he reckoned that she’d started reading again. They stayed there until it was lunchtime.
"It’ll be like this sometimes," she said finally when they stood up from their seats and made their way to the kitchen.
"Like what?" Draco asked.
"Quiet. You get invited to a feast and then it’s quiet. There’s a lot of waiting in-between getting inked and attending parties."
"I’m used to quiet," Draco said. "Quiet doesn’t bother me. But I do hope to see some real ink on me soon, though."
She smiled at him and they took their respective seats at the table again. Potter had not come down for lunch, either.
Dinner was also a quiet affair.
Asha knocked on Draco’s door and brought the supper to his room. She said that Avi retired early for the night and there was no reason to make a show since no one else was dining in the kitchen. Draco wondered if he should have asked Asha if that too was business as usual but refrained; he didn’t want Asha to think that he was making fun of her.
*
Draco woke up early the next day and dressed for the shop. He waited by the Floo for twenty minutes until he decided to just go to the shop himself. Someone needed to mind the desk and if Potter was sleeping in for another day, Draco really didn’t want to stay at Grimmauld Place.
It had been three days after the feast at the Orléans that Draco finally spotted Potter. He wasn’t even sure half the time if Potter was in his rooms at Grimmauld Place or had just checked himself in at St Mungo’s. It was too quiet when Potter wasn’t around and on top of that, Avi mostly kept to herself.
Draco ate alone, read alone, and did his half-day shift at the shop. When Potter had showed up at the fireplace in the morning, Draco was more glad to see him than he’d realised he’d be. He’d been living at Potter’s house for less than a month and he was too used to seeing him. Too used to the routine that was the norm. If going away to a feast would cause such a disruption, Draco wasn’t sure if he wanted to attend any more parties.
"How was the Orléans’ event?" Potter asked Draco on their walk for the usual coffee run.
"It was enjoyable," Draco said. "The guests really admired your artwork; they barely recognised who’d been displaying it." He smiled at Potter and waited for a reaction.
Potter nodded. "And the Orléans?" he asked.
"They are very gracious hosts. The feast was spectacular. I haven’t seen a Pureblood festivity like that in a very long time. And the mansion is brilliant, really. The gardens remind me of my mother's."
"So you had a good time?"
Draco was confused. Had he not identified that he did? "Yes. It was good. I slept in one of the guestrooms, and I hadn’t realised I’d be spending the night."
"Right," Potter said, sounding distant. "Let’s get the coffee."
On their way back to the shop, Draco decided he’d had enough. He needed to confront Potter about why he was being so peculiar.
"Potter?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you cross with me?"
"Why would I be cross with you?"
"I don’t know. Not sure if should have spent the night at the Orléans’; it wasn’t really my choice to stay. I didn’t break any rules of the contract. I didn’t overeat, nor did I indulge myself in the wine. I tried to sleep but couldn’t and then returned home to sleep off the exhaustion. Not sure if you think that I-"
"Draco," Potter said and Draco immediately stopped talking. "It’s fine. I’m not cross. I can see that you’re taking care of yourself and I think I’m ready to start the tattooing process."
"I slept alone," Draco said, making sure Potter understood what he was saying. "I don’t know what sort of contract Avi has with you or with the Orléans-"
"Draco, the service-bond doesn’t forbid you from forming-friendships."
"So if you’re saying that if I wanted to have sex with someone-"
"As long as you are careful. Do not involve yourself in harm and use protective spells. I can’t control your desires…"
They’d reached the shop and their conversation came to a halt as Jackson had come out of his booth and asked to speak to Potter.
"Wait for me in the studio," Potter said and returned his attention towards Jackson.
Draco scowled and made his way to the back of the shop. It was odd, he thought, for Potter to say that he couldn’t control his desires. His mind drew back to the evening when he and Alexis had all but laid down the law with Draco about how his skin belonged to Potter. But not his desires? What a strange thing to say.
*
Draco waited for over thirty minutes in Potter’s studio. He wasn’t sure if Potter had simply forgotten or if he was punishing Draco. He was about to leave when he heard the door open and Potter entered. He had several sketchbooks in his hands and he dropped them at his work desk.
Draco watched him fuss around until Potter gestured for Draco to come to the table. Potter laid out three parchments that were essentially a silhouette of a man’s back. All three bodies had different designs drawn on them. It took Draco a minute to realise that they were sketches of his back. The same lines and scarring on places where Draco had scabs and blemishes.
"Oh," Draco said, not realising that he’d actually released a sound.
"I have a few designs for the front, too," Potter said and started to dig through the pile again.
Draco stared at the sketches in awe. Each design was different from the one before and it was equally beautiful. He couldn’t believe that one of these patterns was going to be etched on his skin.
"Which one are you going to pick?" Draco asked as Potter started to set down three more sketches in front of him of his chest and stomach.
"Well, there’s the flames that go with the phoenix. I drew the dragon first, but we’d used that for the paint on your body, so I think the dragon’s out." He looked at Draco for a confirmation. Draco nodded. He didn’t want the dragon to be etched on him forever. "And the serpent-"
"You selected the three drawings that I initially drew?"
"Yeah. I had you draw the things that matter to your or say something to you and out of those, I selected the serpent, the phoenix and the dragon."
"You have the serpent tattooed on you," Draco said.
"I do."
"And we’re not going with the dragon."
Potter shook his head.
"So it’s the phoenix?" Draco asked and looked at the sketch again. It was beautiful. Even in just a pencil drawing, it was elegant; he could only imagine what the coloured version would look like.
"I was curious to why you drew the phoenix in the first place. I mean I understand the aspiration towards the snake and the dragon-"
Draco shrugged. "It was the first thing I thought of when I thought of a ‘fresh start’." His finger traced over the drawing of the phoenix; Potter’s version was different than the one Draco’d drew. "And their tears have healing powers. Perhaps-"
"You thought you could be healed?" Potter asked; his voice a mere whisper.
"Something like that," Draco answered and he looked up at Potter whose hand had reached Draco’s face. Draco was standing dumbfounded when Potter’s finger wiped away a tear from Draco’s face. He hadn’t realised he was crying. "Oh," he said again.
"Perhaps there’s some truth to the healing powers," Potter said looking into Draco’s eyes and Draco had to back away from Potter to be able to breath.
He took a step back and turned away to walk to the window. Looking out, he wiped the tears off his face and didn’t have the courage to turn around. He was utterly embarrassed. Potter had seen him be so vulnerable. He could’ve handled being anything in front of Potter, but vulnerable wasn’t one of them.
"So we’ll go with the phoenix, then?" Potter asked, exuberant, as if the awkward moment between the two of them had been anything but.
Draco faced Potter again, nodded and then Potter showed him the entire body design of the tattoo.
"We’ll start at the back," Potter said.
Draco’s back and front were going to have the same phoenix shape and the arms would be the wings. Potter explained that after the entire bird would be tattooed on, he would place the charm that would make the wings flutter.
"What does it feel like?" Draco asked; he was nervous about feeling the wings flutter on his body. His lower half would have the flames; it was going to be the bird rising from the ashes. Would he feel the heat of the flames as they soared through his skin?
"You just feel the magic flow through you. It’s a feeling like none other," Potter said. "Didn’t Avi show you?"
"She showed me her birds moving about, but I still don’t understand how it’ll feel," Draco said.
"It’s a different experience for everyone," Potter explained. "It’s nothing to be nervous about, trust me. I was nervous myself too, but my teacher had put my mind at ease."
Draco nodded. He still had so many questions but stayed silent. Potter decided to work on his back first so Draco lay on his stomach on the leather chair. Potter adjusted himself on his knees, one on each side of Draco's body and leaned down to draw on his back. He didn't use a stencil and instead drew with a fine paint brush directly on the skin.
This time, Draco had expected the tingling feeling so he didn't flinch and felt rather proud of himself for it. He closed his eyes and imagined the phoenix on him. He dreamt of the day when he would be free, free to rise from the ashes of his burnt past and be something new. Something better.
He wasn't sure how long he'd lay there until he was jerked awake from his thoughts at the sound of the needle buzzing. He turned to look and he hadn't even realised when Potter had got off the chair.
"I'll need you to be completely flat for this so, why don't you come and lay on the table over here," Potter said, gesturing towards the tattoo table that Draco had seen Potter use on some of his clients.
Draco followed suit.
"Are you nervous?" Potter asked.
Draco shook his head.
"Good," Potter said, and for the next few hours all Draco heard were the vibrating sounds of the needle, and all he felt was the warmth of Potter's hand against his skin.
*
The day after Draco's first ink-session, which had lasted for several hours, Potter had instructed for Draco to stay at home. It was odd, Draco thought. When Potter would ink Avi, he would claim that they were done after two hours but with Draco, Potter had continued for much longer. He had nearly finished the phoenix on his back in one go and wanted to work on the flames next. Potter told Draco that they needed to take a few days off in-between the sessions.
When he wasn't working on Draco, Potter concentrated on finishing Avi's artwork. She was eager to get new ink as Jacque Orléans had requested to see her again. And much as Draco had feared, Emmanuel had invited Draco to dinner too.
*
"Well, are you going?" Avi asked him one afternoon as he was reading a book titled The Wizarding World of Tattoos.
"Going where?" Draco asked; he knew what she was on about, but he just wanted to be sure, nonetheless.
"The Orléans," she answered. "Emmanuel's invited you, hasn't he? Marie owled to tell me that he's postponed his trip to Paris until next week. He's supposed to go to his friend's wedding and is going to ask you to be his date."
"Oh?" Draco said. He found it highly annoying that Avi and Marie discussed him. It was like living with the reporters of the Prophet who had nothing better to do than pry in his life. "I'm not sure," he added a few minutes of silence later. "I'm still a bit sore from the tattooing and..."
Her face lit up at his response. She really didn't want him to be there. Draco didn't have a problem with that. He was more than happy to turn Emmanuel's invitation down if it meant he didn't have to deal with the man's advances and keep Avi happy.
"If you think it's best," she said and sat on the chair across from him. She eyed his book with an eyebrow raised, but didn't comment.
Ten minutes later, she was gone, and Draco had never been more relieved.
*
Saying 'no' to Emmanuel Orléans' invitation was not as easy as Draco had liked it to be. Avi eyed him suspiciously when Potter opened an invitation addressed to Draco while they were at dinner. As the master of the house, Potter was allowed to open everyone's letters, and Asha and Alexis also had a habit of handing him all the mail.
"It seems Emmanuel Orléans is insisting on a showing," Potter said.
"But my tattoos aren't completely healed," Draco replied.
"He is willing to wait until they are, and then he wants to host a private get-together. He's written to you personally," Potter said. He handed the letter to Draco and even though Draco didn't really want to read it at the dinner table, he felt like he was obligated to.
The letter was personal. Really personal. And he could see why Potter had become flustered when he'd skimmed it. Emmanuel wasn't afraid of being crass and erotic in his terminology and whatever impression Draco had given Potter about how they hadn't had sex, was clearly diminished.
My body aches for your need and your touch. I can barely satisfy myself as I think of your lips, your fingers on me and my aroused stated. Please, Draco, I need you to come and diminish the fire. Come. Come for me, Draco. Make me come with you.
Draco raised an eyebrow as he read through the words, and even though he struggled to look nonchalant about the expression used though the entire letter, his face was burning up.
"I-"
"What you do with your time is your business," Potter said, cutting him off. He looked annoyed. "I just wish you wouldn't lie to me-"
"I haven't lied-"
"That'll be all," Potter said and stood up from his chair. Without a second glance towards anyone, he left the room.
Draco gathered the other page of the letter that was the actual invitation to the feast. Emmanuel was hosting a small gathering for his friend who was scheduled to be married in Paris in two weeks' time. It was promised to be a small affair with only his closest friends and he wanted to invite Draco as an entertainment piece. He'd also attached an official Gringotts note stating that he was paying the scheduling fee of one hundred Galleons up front.
"He must really like you," Avi said, and grabbed the invitation from Draco's hand. He was careful to hold onto the letter that had accompanied the invitation. No one else needed to read that. Honestly.
"Will you be attending too?" Draco asked wondering if Jacque Orléans had invited her as his date for the night.
She shook her head. "No, it's for boys only. Besides, Monsieur Orléans won't be attending the stag party for Emmanuel's friend. He's invited me to something else."
"That's...kind of him," Draco said. She had a challenging look on her face and Draco wondered if she wanted him to ask what the event was that Jacque had invited her to. "Is it a display or something more...personal?"
She shrugged. "A little bit of both." After a beat of silence, she stood up and left the room as well.
As much as Draco was glad to see her leave, he realised, he really would have liked if Potter had stayed.
Draco thought about going up to Potter's office to explain to him that he really didn't wish to go. He felt as though Emmanuel was manipulating him and the situation, but when he arrived at the door of Potter's office, there was a DO NOT DISTURB sign posted. He thought about knocking, but he saw Alexis walking down the hall and he shook his head sternly as if he was telling Draco to not even dare.
Draco didn't dare. He didn't want to ruin whatever he had at this house. This house that was his home. Although, he had a feeling that Emmanuel Orléans' presence was really going to ruin it for him, and he needed to rectify that.
He accepted the invitation to the stag party. He told Alexis to deposit the Gringotts' note in Potter's account who eventually informed him that Potter had instructed Alexis to deposit in Draco's account instead. Draco didn't argue with that. He had no time nor opportunity to do so. Every time he tried to speak to Potter, he was either interrupted or told that Potter was too busy.
Potter was avoiding him, and it broke Draco's heart. READ CHAPTER FOUR
Author: digthewriter
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco. Original characters. Some Weasleys.
Warnings/Content Notes: Possible OOC. Short-tempered Harry. Confusion. Longing. Angst. Magical tattoos. Moving Art. Fluffy ending. Made up Pureblood rituals, and some magic history. (Also, not sure if I should warn for: UST)
Word Count: ~45,000 (total fic) / Chapter Three: ~10,200
Read Chapter One
Read Chapter Two
*
The next day Draco awoke later than usual. Potter had told him that they weren't going to the shop on Saturday so he could sleep in. He took full advantage of that option and woke up leisurely some time past ten o'clock.
He had woken up in the middle of the night a few times and made his way to the bathroom to check on his tattoo. He still couldn't believe that he was inked, and the feeling was rather staggering.
By the time he made his way to the kitchen for breakfast, the house seemed eerily quiet. "Where is everyone?" he asked Asha as he took his seat at the table.
"Bhim and Avi have gone to the market. She said she wanted to purchase a new outfit for Monsieur Orléans' feast, and Mr Potter has gone to visit the family."
"The family?" Draco asked, surprised.
"Yes. The Weasleys," Asha answered. "He goes to visit the children. He is the godfather, you know."
"Oh. Granger and Weasley-I mean Hermione and Ron's children? Have you met them?" Draco felt like he'd slept through to a parallel universe where he was utterly alone again. No Avi, no Potter.
"Yes. Rose and Hugo are Hermione and Ron's children. They certainly are the most delightful pair. And Fred and Roxanne, they belong to George and Angelina. But, Mr Potter is only the godfather for Rose and Hugo. I believe Charlie and Bill are godfathers to George's kids. I've only met them a handful of times. They don't stop by much. Mr Potter likes to visit rather than have people over."
"Okay," Draco said and finished his breakfast in silence. "I'll be in the library for the rest of the day," he announced and got up to leave the kitchen. He felt Asha's eyes on him, but didn't turn to ask her why she was looking at him. He was sure she had something to say, but Draco wasn't in the mood for Asha's chipper excerpts.
*
Draco spent most of the day in the library, looking through history books in search of anything of relevance towards the Orléans' family. He really had never heard of them and he wondered how had they managed to stay off the radar for so many years that their family name never came up in conversation. Not even from his father, who was always aware of every Pureblood family around him.
After what seemed like hours of research, Draco came across A Guide to Medieval Sorcery where an Antoinette Orléans had poisoned her husband by slowly mixing a blue elixir in his wine every night for over a year. She was the first witch ever accused and caught for poisoning her husband. She'd never really been caught, though. The story was that after being found out for her use of the Dark potion-which was really a translucent blue-she'd vanished with her female lover.
Draco wondered if this was some sort of an insight in the Orléans family. Were they related to this Antoinette who'd apparently vanished into thin air and wasn't seen again until she was drawing her last breath at a hospital bed?
Did the Orléans have magical spells that they'd preserved as a family secret for generations?
Draco shook his head at this faux-detective work. Clearly he'd spent too much time on his own and was reading too much into something that probably didn't even exist. It was an intriguing idea, though, he thought.
His research was put on hold when he heard someone enter the library. It was Avi.
"Hey, there you are!" Avi said with what seemed like genuine excitement. "I've got a present for you!"
*
It was quiet in the house as Draco was getting dressed for the evening. He was nervous, and if it’d been his way, he probably would have stayed at the house. But it had already been decided that he was going to accompany Avi to the Orléans’ feast.
She’d bought him a new pair of trousers and a starch white shirt for the evening. She claimed that Potter had given her the money when she’d went shopping with Bhim two days ago. It was the fact that she was all smiles that Draco couldn’t say no to her. It was her night to shine, as she was so incredibly proud of being tattooed, as someday Draco might be as well.
Potter had kept his distance for the next few days. Ever since he’d returned from visiting the Weasleys. Draco wasn’t sure if Potter was staying away from just him, or the entire household. According to Asha, it wasn’t a big deal. Business as usual. According to Asha, everything was always business as usual. He wondered how long someone could hold a secret around her and act suspicious until she’d notice. Would she ever notice? Certainly, she’d never noticed the way Alexis looked at her. Draco wondered if the others had noticed and just didn’t say anything.
The first time he’d seen Alexis’s admiring gaze upon Asha, he’d assumed that they were married, only to find out that they weren’t, or if they were it was rather odd that they slept in separate rooms. Then Asha had mentioned something about her ex-husband, and Alexis in casual conversation had once told Draco that he’d "never married."
So, Alexis was rather fond of Asha, and Asha, if she knew, was relatively good at playing nonchalant. Maybe she’d thought that Potter would sack them if they shacked up together. Or, she simply wasn’t attracted to the man.
Business as usual.
A knock on the door yanked Draco out of his thoughts. It was Alexis. "Draco, Mr Potter has requested your presence at the shop," he said.
"At the shop? Now?" Draco asked, confused, and slid his arm into the white shirt hurriedly.
"Oh, you best not wear that shirt," Alexis said.
"Why?" Draco asked, still very confused. What did Potter want? Now? After not speaking to Draco for days.
"Not sure, but he said to have you stop by the shop wearing the trousers you’d be wearing tonight but just an old shirt. I reckon he’s got something planned for you."
"Planned? Like what?"
"Best hurry up if you’d like to know. The shop’s attic, to be exact."
"Okay," Draco said and Alexis left his room. Draco grabbed the first shirt he found in his cupboard and put it on. Then, he Disapparated to the attic of the shop-the non-Muggle room.
It took a while to adjust his eyes to the room. It wasn’t dark, but it wasn’t fully lit, either. There were candles lit in every corner, and a few floated near the ceiling.
"Potter?" Draco called out as he couldn’t find Potter in the shadows.
"Here." A voice came from the corner and Draco saw Potter stand up from the recliner chair, a glass of Firewhisky in hand.
"You called for me?"
"Yes. I have something for you," Potter answered. His voice was even, almost unconcerned, and Draco couldn’t understand what Potter wanted from him-rather give him. He still couldn’t shake off the feeling of being avoided for days.
"Take off your shirt," Potter said, and turned towards his worktable. It seemed Potter had a worktable everywhere he went. It was also just as disorganised as the rest of them.
Draco did as ordered and turned to face Potter again; he was holding a small container and a fine paintbrush.
"What is it?" Draco asked.
"Even though you’re not doing a showing of your own ink tonight, you still are attending a feast with one of my oeuvres," Potter said. "The notice of the feast did not provide me with enough time to ink you properly. Still, you will need to be adorned of my art. This will have to do for now."
"You’re going to paint on me?" Draco wondered as he was completely surprised by the idea. He had no idea.
"That is usually my policy," Potter said. "I cannot send a canvas up for display without any art to show for it."
"Oh," Draco said, almost absentmindedly. And then again, before he could stop himself, he spoke, "I didn’t think I’d be seeing any of your art on me again, given that I’ve barely seen you for days."
"I was busy," Potter responded, defensively. Too defensively, Draco thought. "You aren’t the only thing that requires my attention."
Right. How could Draco forget: he was a thing. "Alright. How will you have me?" he asked.
"Just stand here," Potter said pointing at the corner where a full-length mirror was situated. "In front of the mirror, and try to keep still."
Draco rolled his eyes at the comment. He’d only really flinched that one time, and it wasn’t even like he was being inked under a needle. It was just paint.
Potter twisted his wrist and two of the floating candles came gliding towards them. Draco felt his body go warm, and he couldn’t decide if it was because of the warmth of the flames or if he truly was nervous again. He promised himself that he wouldn’t flinch.
He heard Potter dip the brush into the pot of paint and then the tip touched the back of his shoulder. It was cool-cooler than Draco had anticipated and his body shivered.
"Steady," Potter whispered and Draco felt the warmth of Potter’s breath on his skin.
Draco didn’t respond and just hung his head low, concentrating on not shivering again. Not feeling anything. He allowed his shoulders to relax and took a deep breath in. He really had no idea what was wrong with him.
Potter worked on his back for a while and then moved to his left arm. The swishes of the brush, and the crackling of the wick from the candle was the only noise in the room for a long time. It was as if they were breathing in unison because Draco hadn’t even heard Potter breathe, every time Draco released a breath, it was like, Potter did too.
"Turn around," Potter said and Draco obliged. He didn’t dare turn his head to look at the reflection in the mirror. He wondered what Potter had been drawing on him.
Potter seemed to stare at Draco’s chest for a while. Draco studied Potter’s face, as Potter studied him. His face was scrunched up in concentration, his tongue gently darted out touching his top lip. Was that his thinking face?
"Okay," Potter said and then turned to his table again and grabbed another pot of paint. It looked like it was a different colour. "Arms up," he said and returned back to work.
Draco stayed in the position with his arms stretched out for what felt like an hour. It was painful. But, the fact that he felt Potter’s breath on him, take in his scent, made him forget that at times. When Potter would pull away, Draco’s arms would hurt, and when Potter was close to him again, Draco had trouble breathing, so the pain didn't matter. It was the strangest exchange of emotions, and Draco focused more on that than the pain.
"Very well then. Arms down," Potter instructed and Draco followed suit.
Potter switched out the pot of paint again for a third one and worked on the front of Draco’s right arm. Ten more minutes, and they were done. Potter grabbed his wand and placed a drying spell on Draco so the paint on his body dried evenly. Then he took his finger and traced the design, first on his chest, then the back of his neck, and then all the way down to the small of his back. Draco shivered again.
"Sorry, it is a bit chilly in here," Potter said and handed Draco a vest. It was hanging on the back of the chair that Potter had been sitting at earlier that evening.
"It’s for you," Potter said. "So you can display the art properly. You won’t be able to show anything if you wore the shirt Avi had bought. This is better display clothes."
Draco wondered if Avi had shown all her purchases for Draco to Potter first. Did Potter have to approve them before she could present them to Draco?
"Can I see the art first? Before I put on the vest, I mean," Draco asked and Potter shook his head as if he was in disbelief.
"Of course," Potter said. "Sorry, I get carried away sometimes." His tone was a lot friendlier than it had been all night. Perhaps he was impressed with his own artwork.
Draco turned around to look at his reflection. His breath was almost caught in his throat when he took in the sight. It was a… "Hungarian Horntail?" he asked and Potter nodded. The front of the dragon was painted on Draco’s chest, his right arm when moved slightly gave the illusion of the dragon breathing on Draco’s arm. He turned to look at his back and saw the entire dragon drawn all over his upper body.
Every time Draco moved his left arm, it looked like the dragon was moving, and if he moved his right, it looked as though the Dragon was breathing. It was magic, except, there wasn’t any magic involved. It was just the trick of the eye. It was sheer genius.
"Potter, this is…" Draco turned to look at Potter who seemed flustered himself.
"Do you like it?" Potter asked, his gaze still travelling over the dragon.
"It’s bloody brilliant!" Draco exclaimed. He really was trying to not seem utterly impressed but knew that he was completely failing at that. "Is this going to be my tattoo design?"
Potter shook his head. "No. This is just a party trick," he said. "Besides, wouldn’t it be a bit cliché for me to ink you with a Dragon, and a Hungarian Horntail at that?"
Draco nodded. Potter was right, but Draco loved the artwork so much, he wasn’t sure if he ever wanted to be apart from it. Potter had craftily left the Dark Mark on Draco’s arm alone, but the presence of the dragon on his body almost made the Mark fade out.
"When you’re back from your…event. Perhaps we can go over some designs for your real ink," Potter said.
"It’s not exactly my event," Draco replied. Even after being painted on with stunning artwork, Draco still wasn’t in the mood to socialise. He wasn’t sure if he ever wanted to be around the likes of Pureblood wizards again. Instead of being something that was made for display, and earn an income in such a manner, Draco preferred just minding the shop for Potter.
"You best get ready, Avi will be waiting and I think the Floo call is due shortly."
"The Floo call?" Draco asked.
"Yeah, that’s usually how the Orléans operate. They contact us via the Floo when it’s time to leave, and Avi Apparates to the location instructed. Usually Bhim accompanies her, but I suppose it’ll just be the two of you today."
"Will it be-I mean-have you been?"
"I stopped going to his parties ages ago, and from what I hear from Avi, nothing’s really changed. You’ll be fine, Draco. Don’t worry. Avi will make sure of it." Potter smiled and returned to his desk and began to clean up the paint pots and the brushes he’d been using.
"You’re not coming?" Draco asked, cursing himself for sounding so needy.
"No, I’ve got some work to catch up on. I’ll see you lot later," Potter said and didn’t turn to look at Draco again.
Unsure of why he was just so disappointed, Draco Disapparated back to Grimmauld Place.
*
Even though it had been a while for Draco, the feast, he recognised was nothing short of Pureblood glory. It was the kinds of parties he’d seen his parents throw when he was a child. Every room was lit with grand chandeliers, and house-elves circulating around waiting on everyone’s hand and foot.
The room nearly came to a daunting silence when Avi and Draco arrived. Their travelling cloaks had been taken from them, and they were on full display.
Avi held onto Draco’s arm from the moment they’d entered the room. It looked as though she was leaning on him when he knew that she really held him to show him support. He reckoned that she didn’t want him to make her look bad.
Initially, he was self-conscious about the size and the snugness of the vest Potter had given him, but he’d realised that it really was cut to display the art best. Avi wore a long dark brown skirt that rested low on her hips along with just a piece of cloth that covered her breasts. Whatever Draco had felt about the littleness of his clothing was nothing compared to hers. However, he’d also not seen a woman dressed as little as she had and carry as much confidence as she did. Again, he found himself impressed with Avi Naya.
He also sighed with great relief when Avi pointed out other guests at the party that were also "on display." Most of them were seated next to-what looked like-their masters; some were kneeling on the floor, and others were sat in their master’s lap. He wondered if this was what was in store in his future. Finding a rich Pureblood witch or wizard that would treat him like a pet. Unlike-unlike Potter who-
"Avi! So wonderful to see you here!"
Draco’s thought was cut short when a woman nearly jumped them and pulled Avi in for a hug. She was beautiful. She wore dark red robes, her hair was let loose with dark and wavy curls, and she was accompanied by two men that stood just a few feet away. It was no doubt that this was the woman of the hour: the Orléans sister that held the honour of the engagement feast.
Draco looked past her to the two men standing behind her. They bore similar features, so they had to be Jacque and Emmanuel Orléans. The younger of the two had held Draco’s gaze and didn’t flinch until Draco looked away.
Draco couldn’t help but wonder if he had been recognised for being who he was, Draco Malfoy-former Death Eater, or if it was his art that had caught the man’s attention. No one at the feast so far had given a second look for his face, but they had all stared at his dragon.
"Marie, please allow me to introduce to you my ink-master’s newly selected oeuvre, Draco Malfoy. Draco this is my dearest Marie Orléans and her darling brothers Monsieur Jacque and Monsieur Emmanuel Orléans.
Jacque Orléans only nodded at Draco, looking at him like he was just some dirt Avi had dragged in, whereas, Emmanuel took Draco’s hand and leant down to kiss it. That gesture in itself left Draco speechless and when he turned to look at Avi, her eyes were widened in disbelief.
She caught Draco’s eyes and smiled tightly before giving her attention to Jacque Orléans again.
"It’s a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Orléans," Draco said when the other man had released it.
"Please, call me Emmanuel. Monsieur Orléans is my brother."
Draco was a bit taken back by the man’s speech. He’d been under the impression that they’d stayed in France and Switzerland their entire life, but the man had an English accent. He’d barely heard the other two siblings talk, so he wasn’t sure about them, yet.
"As you wish," Draco said and turned to shake Marie Orléans’ hand. She seemed mesmerised by Draco’s artwork.
"Malfoy," Jacque Orléans said, "as in…"
"Everything that went wrong in the war, Malfoy, yes," Draco quickly interjected. He smiled at the Orléans and felt Avi’s gaze on him; he was too afraid to look in her direction.
"So this is what it’s come down to, then?" Monsieur Orléans said arrogantly.
"Well, it is a step above being locked up in Azkaban," Draco answered. He quickly glanced towards Emmanuel who was smiling at him.
"Not now, Brother," Marie cut in and spoke quickly. "We have guests and we do not have time for you to pass judgement on others." She turned towards Avi and started to pull her away. "Avi, come. Let me introduce you to my fiancé."
Draco stood awkwardly alone in the centre of the room as Avi was gone with Marie and Jacque Orléans had also turned and walked away.
"Would you like to take a walk, Draco?" Emmanuel asked and held out his arm for Draco to hold.
Draco followed suit and nodded, a bit reluctantly. "Sure," he said. It was clear from Emmanuel’s gestures that he was interested in Draco, but he had to wonder to what degree. Also, Draco hoped that Emmanuel would stop treating him like he was a girl. He may have arrived at the party with Avi and was also a hired art piece, but he was also a man. He hoped Emmanuel would soon start to treat him like one.
As Emmanuel led Draco out of the banquet hall towards the back of the mansion, he felt the gaze of the other guests on him. Some did have a look of recognition in their eyes, but most were still only looking at him for his art (or maybe just his body). It was a weird experience, Draco thought. He wasn’t used to this sort of attention. He was mostly familiar with wizards closing or slamming their doors at him, or scowling at him. No one had ever looked at him in awe, even when his name wasn’t as tainted as it was now.
"What do you think of the house?" Emmanuel asked when they stood at the balcony looking over the gardens.
"It’s very nice," Draco answered. The garden reminded him of his mother immediately, and Draco struggled to not let that sad thought show upon his face.
"Nothing like the Malfoy Manor, I suppose," Emmanuel said.
Draco smiled, wondering how Emmanuel Orléans knew so much about him, and he knew almost nothing about the Orléans. "It had its moments."
"What’s happened to it now?"
Draco took in a deep sigh. It seemed like he was doing that a lot that night. "It’s Gringotts’ property now, I reckon they’ll sell it to the Ministry and the Ministry will either auction it off or turn it into a library of sorts-"
"That’s too bad. The pictures of that place-it’s really something."
Draco inadvertently frowned. "How do you know so much about-me?"
"Well, you are famous," Emmanuel answered.
"And why is it that you’re not?" he asked. Emmanuel chuckled but didn’t answer. "Are you related to Antoinette Orléans?"
Emmanuel’s gaze snapped away from the garden and to Draco’s face immediately. "How do you know that name?"
"I read," Draco said. "Is that why I’ve never heard of you? Your family has some sort of a secret and you all hid yourself from the Dark-" Draco’s questions were stopped mid-sentence when Emmanuel Orléans pulled Draco towards him and pressed his lips to Draco’s.
His body immediately stiffened up with shock. Did that just happen? He’d just met this man not ten minutes prior and he was expecting to shove his tongue down Draco’s throat? Draco had suspected that there was something going on between Avi and Jacque but what did the Orléans expect that all of Potter’s charges would feign over them? Did they expect to have some sort of control that Draco was not aware of?
Emmanuel eventually pulled back when he realised that Draco wasn’t kissing him back.
"Sorry, I just-I wanted to do that since you arrived and I-"
"Still have to answer my questions if you’re expecting me to kiss you back," Draco said. He couldn’t deny his attraction to the man but Draco wasn’t that easy to swoon over someone.
"So you would kiss me back?"
"If you would tell me more about yourself."
Emmanuel laughed and he grabbed Draco’s hand, interlacing his fingers with Draco’s. "Will you sit next to me at the feast table?"
Draco was nearly stunned speechless again. "Of course. It’ll be an honour-"
"No. Don’t. Please don’t."
"Don’t what?" Draco asked.
"The formality-it’s fine when Avi does it. It’s fine if you’re like this with my brother, but with me-I’d rather not. I just want to be able to have a conversation. I am not made for this Pureblood formalities. I never was."
Draco tipped his head regarding what Emmanuel had just stated. "Avi mentioned that you were doing charity work for a while. Teachers Without Borders, was it?"
"Yes. It took a lot of convincing for the family to be okay with it. But I had to remind them that by the time we were going to be known in society again…" Emmanuel paused to roll his eyes. "My term would be over and I would help take over the business with my brother."
"And you’re happy?" Draco asked.
"Sure! I gave the programme a good ten years of my life, and now I am ready to be with family again. Although, I’d wished that by this time the traditions and formalities wouldn’t be so old-fashioned still, but I suppose you can’t have everything."
"So, tell me. Why have I never heard of the Orléans before? If you’re one of the oldest wizarding families from France second to the Greengrass family...and, why do all of you have English accents?"
"Second to the Greengrass-Merlin, don’t let my brother hear you say that," Emmanuel said. He ran his hand through his dark black hair and looked at Draco. "So you’re certain that the Malfoys would have heard of the Orléans if there wasn’t any "magic" involved?" he asked air quoting the word magic. Clearly, he was shaken up by the mention of Antoinette Orléans, and evidently Draco’s research and hypothesis had been correct.
Draco tried not to smile at the thought; he loved being right. "Yes. My father would have told me about them."
"You sound very sure of yourself."
Draco was immediately reminded of his first meeting with Potter at Lily’s tattoo shop. He’d asked the same thing to Potter. He chuckled, remembering Potter’s reaction and the absurdity of his life. A very attractive, rich, Pureblood man wanted to snog Draco, and here he was, asking the man questions that didn’t really matter, and thinking about Potter.
Draco realised he'd been quiet for too long.
"Fine! I’ll tell you," Emmanuel said, faking exasperation. "You are right about your assumption to what you said about our past," he said, being vague as Draco had expected him to be. "When your Dark Lord had come to power, my family was beckoned to serve him. My grandfather decided that we were not going to do that, so he managed to pay off some historians and our name was erased from the books as a registered Pureblood family. We were able to hide out in Switzerland under a fake name and we utilised an old magic trick that’s been in our family for generations."
Draco opened his mouth to say something but Emmanuel stopped him with the raise of his hand. "That is all I’m going to say about it. Don’t ask me what the spell is because I’m unable to tell you and honestly, I shouldn’t have told you as much as I did. But most of my family is already dead, the only family I do have is in this house, and they really aren’t going to care what I say to whom. We’re all bound by the Unbreakable Vow so we are unable to disclose significant details, no matter how much you try to probe me." He poked Draco’s stomach with his finger, and then his hand lingered on Draco’s skin longer than it was necessary.
Draco cleared his throat and Emmanuel quickly withdrew his hand. "So why did you tell me? Any of it?" he asked.
Emmanuel turned away from Draco and looked towards the gardens again; his hands were gripping the balcony railing tightly. He seemed to think over his answer before speaking. "Not sure," he said, sounding genuine. "I reckon no one’s really questioned me like that before, and definitely no one’s even come close to guessing. I suppose I was impressed and thought you deserved an honest answer."
He looked at Draco and beamed.
"It’s just that simple, then?"
"I’m a simple man," Emmanuel answered. Draco found that hard to believe. There were no simple men in Draco’s life.
Their conversation was interrupted when Avi came out in the balcony looking for Draco. "There you are," she said smiling and then glanced over at Emmanuel and bowed slightly. He turned to look at Draco and rolled his eyes again.
Draco couldn’t help but smile. This night was already so different from what he’d imagined it would be.
The look that Avi gave Draco ensured him that she hadn’t missed the exchange between Draco and Emmanuel. "Draco, we’re going to need to take our seats for dinner. The feast is about to begin."
"Draco is going to sit next to me at the table," Emmanuel announced before Draco had a chance to reply to Avi.
The action slightly annoyed Draco. He hated being talked about as if he wasn’t in the room. It was enough to deal with that in the Potter household, he’d hoped that if he was out, the least he could expect was to be regarded as a person.
"Oh?" Avi said, sounding shocked; she didn't even try to hide it.
"I assume you were going to sit next to my brother," Emmanuel added. Draco supposed he’d recognised the surprise in Avi.
"I’m not-"
"I’ll go and make the arrangements," he said. "Why don’t the two of you wait here, and I will have one of the house-elves come by and fetch you when we’re ready." He nodded towards them and left the balcony without another glance.
"You’re fitting in well," Avi said; she sounded impressed.
"Just making conversation," Draco replied and turned to look towards the gardens. "It’s beautiful out here, I can see why you like coming here so much. I suppose the garden is lovely on a summer afternoon."
Avi hummed. "Yeah, I suppose it is. But, I don’t exactly come here for the gardens."
"I suppose not. Marie Orléans seems rather fond of you, too," Draco said. He turned to look at Avi who smiled softly at him. "What’s the matter?"
"Why would something be the matter?" She raised an eyebrow.
"I’ve lived with you long enough to know your smiles," Draco said. "This one hasn’t reached your eyes."
"She thinks that they’re going to move back to France after the wedding. The entire family, so-"
"Maybe you can go with them," Draco said.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, your contract is about to be finished with Potter. By the time the wedding rolls around and they’ll be moving, you’ll be free. Maybe you can move there, I’m sure there are plenty of families that throw feasts who’d require your services. And you can travel anywhere with a Portkey."
"Is that what you plan to do?"
"I have no idea what I’m going to do. I’ve barely got any ink on me."
A house-elf Apparated into the balcony and startled the both of them. "Your presence is requested for the feast," he announced and then Disapparated.
Avi gave Draco the most peculiar look and he couldn’t help but feel as though he’d said something that was out of line. He thought that she and him were getting along so well, and whatever he’d just said had evidently broken the truce between them.
*
Emmanuel was true to his word and Avi was in fact sitting next to Jacque Orléans at the head of the table. She seemed satisfied enough and Draco wondered if this was the first time it’d happened. Had Emmanuel’s desire to have Draco sit next to him changed the way things worked? Did Avi usually sit somewhere else even if she almost always was Monsieur Orléans’ guest?
This could have explained Avi’s odd behaviour from earlier, Draco thought. Perhaps Draco’s presence had a bigger impact that he’d realised. More than she’d realised. Bringing Draco to the feast at first seemed like an act of retaliation towards Potter, but now, it seemed to have taken a life of its own.
During the feast, as dinner was served and guests talked to the each other, Emmanuel Orléans continued to grab Draco’s hand under the table. Draco would roll his eyes and pull his hand back pretending to take a sip from his drink or use the knife to cut his meat. Unfortunately for him, Emmanuel found just the right time to flirt with Draco-exactly when Avi was looking at them.
Draco wasn’t interested in Emmanuel, not in that way anyway. He was intrigued by the man, and he sure was attractive, but attachment, romance, or even casual sex was the last thing from Draco’s mind. He also wasn’t sure how any sort of a relationship or attachment would play into his contract with Potter.
What if it was against the rules? Draco had no idea. He didn’t even know who he’d ask. He glanced over at Avi and saw that Monsieur Orléans had leaned in and whispered something to her. She batted her eyelashes at him and Draco saw a blush creep up on her shoulders.
He wondered if Avi was involved in a sexual relationship with Jacque, and if Potter was aware of it. Is that why Potter was so cross with her?
He dismissed the idea when Emmanuel rubbed the back of his hand on Draco’s right arm-right over the flames that Potter had painted on. He shivered with the thought of Potter’s touch.
"Spend the night with me," Emmanuel said.
"I’m sorry. What?" Draco nearly choked on his dessert.
"Avi’s going to sleep here tonight. She’ll be with Jacque. Why don’t you stay with me?"
"I-I’m not sure if that’s such a good idea…"
"Why? Afraid I’ll ruin your paint?" Emmanuel teased.
"Not exactly. I thought we were returning tonight. If Avi’s going to be spending the night, and if you do not have a spare guestroom for me, I can Floo to my-I mean Potter-" Draco flustered over the words. I’ll just Floo to my Potter? Draco, what is wrong with you?
"Don’t be ridiculous. This mansion has over 15 guestrooms! That isn’t the point. Stay with me."
"You know how you suggested earlier to not to be formal with you?" Draco asked and Emmanuel nodded, his eyes wide as if Draco was going to serve him dessert. "Thank you. But, I won’t."
"Oh," Emmanuel said.
"I’ll speak with Avi, and I’m sure I can just go back…home tonight." Strange. Potter had always called it home when they were together, but Draco had yet to utter the words.
"It’s alright," Emmanuel said, sounding resigned. "I’ll have a room set up for you."
"Don’t you have servants for that? House-elves? Do you do everything yourself?" Draco asked. It was odd that the man had taken charge for all his tasks that night, meanwhile, the only work Jacque Orléans had done was ask Avi to sleep in his room.
Sleep. Draco wondered how much sleeping they’d be doing.
As dinner was over and the musicians still continued to play, Emmanuel asked Draco to dance with him. It wasn’t as odd as Draco would have thought-there were plenty of people in the banquet hall, dancing.
He looked around the room and couldn’t find Avi or Monsieur Orléans anywhere. Figuring that they’d retired for the night already, Draco’s tension alleviated and he gave in to Emmanuel’s request.
"Are you sure I cannot convince you to stay with me?" Emmanuel asked one last time as he walked Draco to the guest room.
"Do you want the formal response or the one-word answer?" Draco asked.
"Doesn’t really matter, does it?" Emmanuel said. "It won’t be in the affirmative."
"Thank you for your company and the dance-"
"Oh, stop!" Emmanuel said, rolling his eyes again.
"No, I mean it: it was lovely. I had a wonderful time. If you can do me one more favour?"
"Name it," Emmanuel said immediately.
"Will you please make sure Avi knows that I’m here so that we can leave together in the morning?"
Emmanuel nodded. Draco offered his hand for Emmanuel to shake it and the man looked at him like he had two heads. He pulled Draco in for a tight embrace and then all but pushed him against the wall before kissing him. This time, Draco kissed him back and he could feel Emmanuel’s delight in receiving that response from Draco. His hand travelled up Draco’s back and then grabbed the lock of his hair, deepening the kiss.
When he pulled away from Draco, Draco felt a pool of heat on the back of his spine. He had half a heart to continue the kiss, but knew better. His head had to win out on whatever else his body had wanted. He had his future to think about and this wasn’t some dark alley behind a no-name Muggle pub that would allow Draco to give into his desire. This was a very important man, he stood in a very important house, and he was probably being watched-even if it felt like they were alone.
Draco had come from a Pureblood family. He was very aware of the fact that the walls had both eyes and ears. Emmanuel might have forgotten or might not have cared, but Draco knew better. The last thing he wanted was Avi or Jacque finding out. Or worse, Potter.
*
Draco woke up to a faint knock at the door. He wasn’t sure if the person knocking intended to wake him or not, but since he’d barely slept the night before, it didn’t take him long to gain consciousness.
"Yes?" he muttered as he grabbed his trousers and pulled them on. Avi opened the door and entered the room.
"Oh, you are alone," she said, sounding surprised.
"Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?" he asked.
"I just thought-wasn’t sure if Emmanuel had spent the night here."
"If he and I were going to spend the night, we most likely would have been in his quarters, not in the guestroom," Draco said. He looked around for a shirt and realised that he’d only been wearing a vest when he’d arrived. The doorkeeper upon their arrival had collected his and Avi’s travelling cloaks. "Bloody hell," he mumbled to himself. He didn’t want to walk about the house in his clothes from last night. He wished that Avi had warned him about bringing dress robes.
It was as if someone had read his mind that a house-elf appeared at the door and knocked. "Master Emmanuel has send clothes for Draco Malfoy," he said and offered Draco a set of dark blue robes. They looked brand new.
"Oh," Draco said collecting them from the house-elf’s hands and then thanked him. The house-elf disappeared instantly, and Draco didn’t hesitate to put the clothes on. He didn’t want to return to Grimmauld Place looking completely undignified.
"Well, we best go home then," Avi said, giving Draco a once over before leaving the room. Draco hurried after her.
They arrived to Grimmauld Place via the Floo and Asha came rushing towards them.
"Didn’t think you were going to spend the night," she said, and Draco realised she was looking just at him. He supposed Avi spent the night usually.
Draco felt nervous all of a sudden. "It was late and-"
"Did you have a good time?" Asha asked.
Draco nodded. "Yes. It was fun," he said. "I must take a bath, though. I feel exhausted and I barely slept." Asha raised an eyebrow at that and Draco chuckled. "The bed didn’t sit well with me. I think I’m already used to the mattress here."
He made his way to his room and was glad to be back home. He wished that he’d just returned the night before. Surely, if Asha was sceptical of his arrival this morning, Draco only wondered what Potter would have been thinking.
When he returned to the kitchen, Avi was sitting at the table, practically inhaling the eggs and toast. Draco’d never seen her eat that way before, but realised that she’d barely touched her food at the feast the night before. Poor thing must have been famished.
"Eggs and bacon?" Asha asked and Draco nodded only too eagerly.
"Will Potter be joining us for breakfast?" he asked.
Asha let out a hearty laugh. "Oh I don’t think Mr Potter will be joining us at all today," she said. When both Avi and Draco gave her a questioning look, she continued. "Finished off four bottles of wine last night. By himself. First, I thought he was going to go out, visit the family, but the first half bottle turned into another. Then just past midnight--didn’t stop drinking until the fourth one had finished and he all but fell asleep on the sofa!"
"Really?" Avi asked, sounding fascinated. It was as if she’d never seen or heard of Potter being drunk before. She’d stayed at the house for nearly three years; surely, she must have witnessed it.
Asha nodded. "Yeah, poor Bhim had to drag Mr Potter’s arse up the stairs. He said he wouldn’t be able to handle being Apparated into his room. Bhim didn’t question him. No one wants to get vomited on by a drunken man."
"So he’s just going to sleep it off, then?" Draco asked.
"Most likely. I sent the breakfast up to his rooms and he barely touched it. Just wanted coffee." Asha clearly had thought the scenario was too comical. Draco was glad to know that when things weren’t business as usual, she’d find them entertaining.
After breakfast, Draco returned to his room for a nap. When he woke several hours later, he made his way to the library to see if he could find more records in the history books on the Orléans. He was surprised to see Avi sitting-on what he’d deemed as his favourite chair-reading.
"Hi," he said quietly, making sure he didn’t disturb her too much. She looked up and smiled but didn’t say anything in return.
Draco had hoped that he could do his research in private so instead of looking through the history books, he opted for a mystery novel and sat across from Avi. She seemed too concentrated on the page in front of her, but Draco could tell that she wasn’t reading.
They stayed quiet and even though the silence was daunting, Draco hadn’t said a word. Neither had Avi. Whatever truce they had between them, seemed to have dissolved and Draco was sad for it. He wasn’t really sure what Avi’s issue was with him, he wasn’t her competition. Not really. If she’d just tell him what she wanted, perhaps Draco could provide that for her.
Eventually, Draco started to read his book and he’d almost forgotten all about Avi sitting there. She turned a page after a while, so he reckoned that she’d started reading again. They stayed there until it was lunchtime.
"It’ll be like this sometimes," she said finally when they stood up from their seats and made their way to the kitchen.
"Like what?" Draco asked.
"Quiet. You get invited to a feast and then it’s quiet. There’s a lot of waiting in-between getting inked and attending parties."
"I’m used to quiet," Draco said. "Quiet doesn’t bother me. But I do hope to see some real ink on me soon, though."
She smiled at him and they took their respective seats at the table again. Potter had not come down for lunch, either.
Dinner was also a quiet affair.
Asha knocked on Draco’s door and brought the supper to his room. She said that Avi retired early for the night and there was no reason to make a show since no one else was dining in the kitchen. Draco wondered if he should have asked Asha if that too was business as usual but refrained; he didn’t want Asha to think that he was making fun of her.
*
Draco woke up early the next day and dressed for the shop. He waited by the Floo for twenty minutes until he decided to just go to the shop himself. Someone needed to mind the desk and if Potter was sleeping in for another day, Draco really didn’t want to stay at Grimmauld Place.
It had been three days after the feast at the Orléans that Draco finally spotted Potter. He wasn’t even sure half the time if Potter was in his rooms at Grimmauld Place or had just checked himself in at St Mungo’s. It was too quiet when Potter wasn’t around and on top of that, Avi mostly kept to herself.
Draco ate alone, read alone, and did his half-day shift at the shop. When Potter had showed up at the fireplace in the morning, Draco was more glad to see him than he’d realised he’d be. He’d been living at Potter’s house for less than a month and he was too used to seeing him. Too used to the routine that was the norm. If going away to a feast would cause such a disruption, Draco wasn’t sure if he wanted to attend any more parties.
"How was the Orléans’ event?" Potter asked Draco on their walk for the usual coffee run.
"It was enjoyable," Draco said. "The guests really admired your artwork; they barely recognised who’d been displaying it." He smiled at Potter and waited for a reaction.
Potter nodded. "And the Orléans?" he asked.
"They are very gracious hosts. The feast was spectacular. I haven’t seen a Pureblood festivity like that in a very long time. And the mansion is brilliant, really. The gardens remind me of my mother's."
"So you had a good time?"
Draco was confused. Had he not identified that he did? "Yes. It was good. I slept in one of the guestrooms, and I hadn’t realised I’d be spending the night."
"Right," Potter said, sounding distant. "Let’s get the coffee."
On their way back to the shop, Draco decided he’d had enough. He needed to confront Potter about why he was being so peculiar.
"Potter?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you cross with me?"
"Why would I be cross with you?"
"I don’t know. Not sure if should have spent the night at the Orléans’; it wasn’t really my choice to stay. I didn’t break any rules of the contract. I didn’t overeat, nor did I indulge myself in the wine. I tried to sleep but couldn’t and then returned home to sleep off the exhaustion. Not sure if you think that I-"
"Draco," Potter said and Draco immediately stopped talking. "It’s fine. I’m not cross. I can see that you’re taking care of yourself and I think I’m ready to start the tattooing process."
"I slept alone," Draco said, making sure Potter understood what he was saying. "I don’t know what sort of contract Avi has with you or with the Orléans-"
"Draco, the service-bond doesn’t forbid you from forming-friendships."
"So if you’re saying that if I wanted to have sex with someone-"
"As long as you are careful. Do not involve yourself in harm and use protective spells. I can’t control your desires…"
They’d reached the shop and their conversation came to a halt as Jackson had come out of his booth and asked to speak to Potter.
"Wait for me in the studio," Potter said and returned his attention towards Jackson.
Draco scowled and made his way to the back of the shop. It was odd, he thought, for Potter to say that he couldn’t control his desires. His mind drew back to the evening when he and Alexis had all but laid down the law with Draco about how his skin belonged to Potter. But not his desires? What a strange thing to say.
*
Draco waited for over thirty minutes in Potter’s studio. He wasn’t sure if Potter had simply forgotten or if he was punishing Draco. He was about to leave when he heard the door open and Potter entered. He had several sketchbooks in his hands and he dropped them at his work desk.
Draco watched him fuss around until Potter gestured for Draco to come to the table. Potter laid out three parchments that were essentially a silhouette of a man’s back. All three bodies had different designs drawn on them. It took Draco a minute to realise that they were sketches of his back. The same lines and scarring on places where Draco had scabs and blemishes.
"Oh," Draco said, not realising that he’d actually released a sound.
"I have a few designs for the front, too," Potter said and started to dig through the pile again.
Draco stared at the sketches in awe. Each design was different from the one before and it was equally beautiful. He couldn’t believe that one of these patterns was going to be etched on his skin.
"Which one are you going to pick?" Draco asked as Potter started to set down three more sketches in front of him of his chest and stomach.
"Well, there’s the flames that go with the phoenix. I drew the dragon first, but we’d used that for the paint on your body, so I think the dragon’s out." He looked at Draco for a confirmation. Draco nodded. He didn’t want the dragon to be etched on him forever. "And the serpent-"
"You selected the three drawings that I initially drew?"
"Yeah. I had you draw the things that matter to your or say something to you and out of those, I selected the serpent, the phoenix and the dragon."
"You have the serpent tattooed on you," Draco said.
"I do."
"And we’re not going with the dragon."
Potter shook his head.
"So it’s the phoenix?" Draco asked and looked at the sketch again. It was beautiful. Even in just a pencil drawing, it was elegant; he could only imagine what the coloured version would look like.
"I was curious to why you drew the phoenix in the first place. I mean I understand the aspiration towards the snake and the dragon-"
Draco shrugged. "It was the first thing I thought of when I thought of a ‘fresh start’." His finger traced over the drawing of the phoenix; Potter’s version was different than the one Draco’d drew. "And their tears have healing powers. Perhaps-"
"You thought you could be healed?" Potter asked; his voice a mere whisper.
"Something like that," Draco answered and he looked up at Potter whose hand had reached Draco’s face. Draco was standing dumbfounded when Potter’s finger wiped away a tear from Draco’s face. He hadn’t realised he was crying. "Oh," he said again.
"Perhaps there’s some truth to the healing powers," Potter said looking into Draco’s eyes and Draco had to back away from Potter to be able to breath.
He took a step back and turned away to walk to the window. Looking out, he wiped the tears off his face and didn’t have the courage to turn around. He was utterly embarrassed. Potter had seen him be so vulnerable. He could’ve handled being anything in front of Potter, but vulnerable wasn’t one of them.
"So we’ll go with the phoenix, then?" Potter asked, exuberant, as if the awkward moment between the two of them had been anything but.
Draco faced Potter again, nodded and then Potter showed him the entire body design of the tattoo.
"We’ll start at the back," Potter said.
Draco’s back and front were going to have the same phoenix shape and the arms would be the wings. Potter explained that after the entire bird would be tattooed on, he would place the charm that would make the wings flutter.
"What does it feel like?" Draco asked; he was nervous about feeling the wings flutter on his body. His lower half would have the flames; it was going to be the bird rising from the ashes. Would he feel the heat of the flames as they soared through his skin?
"You just feel the magic flow through you. It’s a feeling like none other," Potter said. "Didn’t Avi show you?"
"She showed me her birds moving about, but I still don’t understand how it’ll feel," Draco said.
"It’s a different experience for everyone," Potter explained. "It’s nothing to be nervous about, trust me. I was nervous myself too, but my teacher had put my mind at ease."
Draco nodded. He still had so many questions but stayed silent. Potter decided to work on his back first so Draco lay on his stomach on the leather chair. Potter adjusted himself on his knees, one on each side of Draco's body and leaned down to draw on his back. He didn't use a stencil and instead drew with a fine paint brush directly on the skin.
This time, Draco had expected the tingling feeling so he didn't flinch and felt rather proud of himself for it. He closed his eyes and imagined the phoenix on him. He dreamt of the day when he would be free, free to rise from the ashes of his burnt past and be something new. Something better.
He wasn't sure how long he'd lay there until he was jerked awake from his thoughts at the sound of the needle buzzing. He turned to look and he hadn't even realised when Potter had got off the chair.
"I'll need you to be completely flat for this so, why don't you come and lay on the table over here," Potter said, gesturing towards the tattoo table that Draco had seen Potter use on some of his clients.
Draco followed suit.
"Are you nervous?" Potter asked.
Draco shook his head.
"Good," Potter said, and for the next few hours all Draco heard were the vibrating sounds of the needle, and all he felt was the warmth of Potter's hand against his skin.
*
The day after Draco's first ink-session, which had lasted for several hours, Potter had instructed for Draco to stay at home. It was odd, Draco thought. When Potter would ink Avi, he would claim that they were done after two hours but with Draco, Potter had continued for much longer. He had nearly finished the phoenix on his back in one go and wanted to work on the flames next. Potter told Draco that they needed to take a few days off in-between the sessions.
When he wasn't working on Draco, Potter concentrated on finishing Avi's artwork. She was eager to get new ink as Jacque Orléans had requested to see her again. And much as Draco had feared, Emmanuel had invited Draco to dinner too.
*
"Well, are you going?" Avi asked him one afternoon as he was reading a book titled The Wizarding World of Tattoos.
"Going where?" Draco asked; he knew what she was on about, but he just wanted to be sure, nonetheless.
"The Orléans," she answered. "Emmanuel's invited you, hasn't he? Marie owled to tell me that he's postponed his trip to Paris until next week. He's supposed to go to his friend's wedding and is going to ask you to be his date."
"Oh?" Draco said. He found it highly annoying that Avi and Marie discussed him. It was like living with the reporters of the Prophet who had nothing better to do than pry in his life. "I'm not sure," he added a few minutes of silence later. "I'm still a bit sore from the tattooing and..."
Her face lit up at his response. She really didn't want him to be there. Draco didn't have a problem with that. He was more than happy to turn Emmanuel's invitation down if it meant he didn't have to deal with the man's advances and keep Avi happy.
"If you think it's best," she said and sat on the chair across from him. She eyed his book with an eyebrow raised, but didn't comment.
Ten minutes later, she was gone, and Draco had never been more relieved.
*
Saying 'no' to Emmanuel Orléans' invitation was not as easy as Draco had liked it to be. Avi eyed him suspiciously when Potter opened an invitation addressed to Draco while they were at dinner. As the master of the house, Potter was allowed to open everyone's letters, and Asha and Alexis also had a habit of handing him all the mail.
"It seems Emmanuel Orléans is insisting on a showing," Potter said.
"But my tattoos aren't completely healed," Draco replied.
"He is willing to wait until they are, and then he wants to host a private get-together. He's written to you personally," Potter said. He handed the letter to Draco and even though Draco didn't really want to read it at the dinner table, he felt like he was obligated to.
The letter was personal. Really personal. And he could see why Potter had become flustered when he'd skimmed it. Emmanuel wasn't afraid of being crass and erotic in his terminology and whatever impression Draco had given Potter about how they hadn't had sex, was clearly diminished.
My body aches for your need and your touch. I can barely satisfy myself as I think of your lips, your fingers on me and my aroused stated. Please, Draco, I need you to come and diminish the fire. Come. Come for me, Draco. Make me come with you.
Draco raised an eyebrow as he read through the words, and even though he struggled to look nonchalant about the expression used though the entire letter, his face was burning up.
"I-"
"What you do with your time is your business," Potter said, cutting him off. He looked annoyed. "I just wish you wouldn't lie to me-"
"I haven't lied-"
"That'll be all," Potter said and stood up from his chair. Without a second glance towards anyone, he left the room.
Draco gathered the other page of the letter that was the actual invitation to the feast. Emmanuel was hosting a small gathering for his friend who was scheduled to be married in Paris in two weeks' time. It was promised to be a small affair with only his closest friends and he wanted to invite Draco as an entertainment piece. He'd also attached an official Gringotts note stating that he was paying the scheduling fee of one hundred Galleons up front.
"He must really like you," Avi said, and grabbed the invitation from Draco's hand. He was careful to hold onto the letter that had accompanied the invitation. No one else needed to read that. Honestly.
"Will you be attending too?" Draco asked wondering if Jacque Orléans had invited her as his date for the night.
She shook her head. "No, it's for boys only. Besides, Monsieur Orléans won't be attending the stag party for Emmanuel's friend. He's invited me to something else."
"That's...kind of him," Draco said. She had a challenging look on her face and Draco wondered if she wanted him to ask what the event was that Jacque had invited her to. "Is it a display or something more...personal?"
She shrugged. "A little bit of both." After a beat of silence, she stood up and left the room as well.
As much as Draco was glad to see her leave, he realised, he really would have liked if Potter had stayed.
Draco thought about going up to Potter's office to explain to him that he really didn't wish to go. He felt as though Emmanuel was manipulating him and the situation, but when he arrived at the door of Potter's office, there was a DO NOT DISTURB sign posted. He thought about knocking, but he saw Alexis walking down the hall and he shook his head sternly as if he was telling Draco to not even dare.
Draco didn't dare. He didn't want to ruin whatever he had at this house. This house that was his home. Although, he had a feeling that Emmanuel Orléans' presence was really going to ruin it for him, and he needed to rectify that.
He accepted the invitation to the stag party. He told Alexis to deposit the Gringotts' note in Potter's account who eventually informed him that Potter had instructed Alexis to deposit in Draco's account instead. Draco didn't argue with that. He had no time nor opportunity to do so. Every time he tried to speak to Potter, he was either interrupted or told that Potter was too busy.
Potter was avoiding him, and it broke Draco's heart. READ CHAPTER FOUR