The Affairs of Men (Part 2 of 2)
Title: The Affairs of Men (Part 2 of 2)
Author: sesheta_66
Beta: softly_sweetly
Word count: ~ 17,500
Rating: Hard R
Summary: Having just survived the war, Draco prepares, with some trepidation, for life to get back to normal, or as normal as it can be after war. What he is not prepared for is upheaval, the complete transformation of the world in which he lives. How he chooses to react and move on will determine his fate in this post-war wizarding world.
The Affairs of Men - Part 2 of 2
"The rarer action is
In virtue than in vengeance."
August 2001
Draco accepted the invitation for an interview from McGonagall, and found himself in her office near the end of summer, answering standard questions, seemingly meeting her approval.
"Now, Mr Malfoy, do you have any questions for me?" she asked once she had concluded the formal interview.
"Why?"
"I should think that's obvious. Even though you attended school here, you may have questions about how things are run."
"No, I mean why me? I thought you hated me."
"Certainly not, Mr Malfoy."
"But you didn't let me come back here."
"No, and for good reason."
"And now?"
"Now I have good reason to offer you a job." Draco gave her a perplexed look. "At no time were your skills ever in question. Your will, your judgement, your motivation, yes. But never your skills. You seem to have matured in the years since we last corresponded, and I am willing to take the chance that you will be an asset to Hogwarts."
"But the last time you wrote me, you said I posed a risk to the students."
"Indeed you did. Your presence here would have been extremely disruptive, and to be honest, might have been dangerous for you. And, as a result, could have become dangerous to others."
"You did it to protect me?"
"Oh, it wasn't nearly as selfless an act as that, but it was one of my considerations. You hadn't earned the right to return to this school."
"And now I have?"
"Yes, I believe you have. I will admit that, had it not been for Professor Bukhalov's regular correspondence and free-flowing accolades over the years, I would have serious reservations. But his high opinion of you, coupled with a rather annoying stream of reminders from one of your former classmates that you had been acting under duress, has softened my resolve. So, Mr Malfoy, the job is yours if you want it."
Draco spent the end of the summer in France visiting Narcissa. She was doing very well there, and had blended in well with the upper-echelon of French society. She had been very pleased to hear his news about the job, and that put any doubts he might have had aside. Throughout everything, she had been his one constant, even when she wasn't right there with him.
"A friend is one that knows you as you are,
understands where you have been,
accepts what you have become,
and still, gently allows you to grow."
September - November 2001
On his first day back at Hogwarts, Draco was in for a shock. Potter was also teaching there. Defence Against the Dark Arts, naturally.
"Draco!" he called out and grasped Draco's hand. "Good to see you back." He clapped him on the back and led their way into the Great Hall as though they were old pals. He motioned for Draco to sit next to him, and brought him up to date on the goings on at Hogwarts until the sorting ceremony was to begin.
As Draco watched the sorting, he looked around the room, catching Potter's eye in the process. He smiled at Draco, and everything felt surreal. Potter chatted with him all through their meal, again as though they had been friends for years, and not enemies. It took everything in him not to scream at the man.
Finally, when all the students were filing out to their houses, Draco turned on Potter.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"What?" Potter replied, in his typically clueless Gryffindor way.
"You're being ..."
"Nice?"
"Yes! Stop it at once!"
"But why?" Was that a smirk on his face? Was Potter smirking at him?
"It's ... it's ... confusing!"
"Oh, well, I wouldn't want to confuse you." Yes, he definitely was smirking now.
"You know what I mean," Draco said through a clenched jaw.
"Actually, Draco, I don't."
"And stop calling me Draco!"
"No."
"What?"
"No. You know, it means the opposite of yes."
"Argh!" Draco stormed off to his rooms after that. He spent his first night as flustered and aggravated by Potter as he had in his first year after the git had refused his hand. Now he was being nice and it was really throwing Draco off. Well, two could play that game!
The next day, Draco greeted Potter before he had a chance to initiate conversation.
"Good morning, Potter."
"Good morning, Draco." Again with the first name.
"So, how long have you been teaching here?"
"This will be my first year teaching, but I've been assisting for the past two."
"Do you like it?" Draco wasn't sure why, but he was actually interested in Potter's response.
"I love it!" he said, and it showed on his face. His smile reached his eyes, and the joy reflected in them like a child's at Christmas. "It's amazing to watch someone struggle with a spell, work hard at it, and eventually get it. That look of wonder when the spell works is worth all that work, don't you think?"
Draco realized that Potter had a pleasant, and rather infectious smile. Suddenly it wasn't so difficult to be nice to him. "I do. That moment when you can see it in their eyes that they get it, you know. It doesn't get much more satisfying than that for a teacher."
"So I take it you enjoy teaching as well?"
"Yes, I do. I wouldn't have ever imagined I would like it, or that I'd be any good at it, but --"
"I thought you were great at everything?" Harry teased.
"Oh, I am, Potter," Draco replied with a cheeky grin. "I most certainly am."
Draco smirked as he watched Potter's cheeks go a deep shade of pink at that last remark. Well, well. Being nice to Potter certainly had its merits.
Over the next few weeks, Draco found himself spending more and more time with Potter. They were, after all, the only ones on staff under fifty - perhaps even sixty - and they surprisingly had a lot in common.
One weekend, when neither of them had duties at the school, they ventured out to Hogsmeade for the afternoon. Each of them bought a few items they'd need for their classes before they wandered into the Three Broomsticks. Draco cringed as he saw Rosmerta behind the bar.
Potter grasped his arm gently. "Are you okay? Did you want to go somewhere else?" His touch seemed to have a calming effect on Draco's nerves.
"No," Draco replied. "I need to face her eventually, don't I?"
"I suppose so, but it doesn't have to be so soon."
"Potter, listen --"
"Would you just call me Harry already? We've known each other for years, and I'd like to think we're friends." He stopped and looked earnestly at Draco. "We are friends, now, aren't we?"
Draco smiled. "Yes, Potter - Harry - we're friends now."
"Good. That's settled. I'll go up and get us some drinks. Butterbeer okay with you?"
"Sure."
When Pott-Harry returned, Draco asked, "Why?"
"Excuse me?"
"Why? You had no reason to be nice to me, and yet ..."
"Why shouldn't I be nice to you?"
"Oh, how about because we've always hated each other? We were on opposite sides of the war? My father and his boss tried to kill you so many times I lost count? I tried to hand you over to the maniac myself?"
Harry took a swig of his Butterbeer and grinned. "Let me try to respond to all of that. We didn't hate each other; we were just ... well, okay, we hated each other. I'll give you that one. But we're adults now, and I'd like to think we've managed to get past that. We were never on opposite sides of the war. We --"
"Yes we were," Draco interrupted.
"Let me make my point, and then you can come up with some stupid argument against what I say, yeah?" Draco glared. "Good. We may have had different ideas, but you were never on a side. I believe that you would have stayed out of the war altogether, had Voldemort not threatened your family. I think you were much the same as Snape in that respect."
"What do you mean?"
"Snape was in love with my mother."
"What?!"
"Long story, which I can get into later. The point I'm trying to make is that as soon as Voldemort threatened her, Snape was lost to him. He no longer looked to Voldemort as a leader. He saw him as the heartless, ruthless, spineless snake that he was. And I believe that your confidence in him was shattered the moment he threatened your parents. I don't think I would have made the same choice as you, but how do I know? I was never placed in your situation."
"Yes you were."
"Not exactly. I already knew that he'd kill everyone whether I did what he wanted or not. I had been inside his head. I knew how he thought."
Draco shuddered involuntarily at Harry's admission. "You really were, weren't you?"
"Yup," he replied casually. How is it that he can talk about this so calmly? "I watched what he made you do, and I saw the look of terror and disgust on your face. You were never a killer, Draco. You're too good a person for that."
"But my father --"
"Isn't you. And you aren't him. Which leads me to my next point. The number of times Lucius and Voldemort tried to kill me has nothing to do with you. You are not Lucius. Just like I am not James."
"What?"
"My father and godfather tormented Snape for years. I didn't want to believe it, but Snape was telling the truth about how my father acted. Of course, that wasn't all there was to him, but that was what Snape was subjected to. And he loved my mother, so when my parents started dating, that only made Snape hate him more."
"And that's why he hated you."
"That's why he hated me."
"The sins of the father."
"That's right. I for one do not plan on repeating that mistake if I can help it. I didn't believe Snape and I hated him. But he protected me."
Draco looked confused and once again found himself asking, "What?"
"Much as he protected you, Draco, Snape also protected me. He did it because Dumbledore asked him to, in honour of my mother's memory."
"That old man was a manipulative bastard."
"You have no idea," Harry laughed. "Anyway, you asked why I was nice to you. Well, I figured I may have misjudged you. I've thought about this a lot, you know. I was hasty to brush you off first year, and after that ... well, things just escalated, didn't they?"
"That's putting it mildly."
Harry chuckled. "Given who your father was, I don't think a friendship would have survived, even if we had one in school. But now --"
"Now you think it will?"
"What's to stop us being friends?"
"Our past."
"Ah, but that's in the past now, isn't it? I'd like to think we can look ahead instead. After all, that's what got you where you are today, right?"
"What do you mean?" Draco asked, curious about Harry's analysis of the situation.
"After the war, you weren't able to carry on as you had wanted. You had to look for other options."
"No kidding. Everything around me had changed. Everything I knew was gone. My father had been killed, I couldn't finish my education at home, everyone that I had thought was a friend was either dead, in jail or gone from my life, I had almost no prospects at all. I had to leave the country, only to find that the Ministry was taking my house too."
"About the Manor --" Harry began.
"Let's not talk about it, okay? I don't blame you. I know it may have seemed that way when I saw you that time you returned my wand to me, but I didn't blame you then, and I don't blame you now. I know you tried your best to stop it --"
"Draco, about the Manor --" he repeated.
"Harry, I appreciate this, really I do. But I don't want to talk about it. Not now. Maybe sometime in the future, but not now."
"Fair enough."
The following weekend, they found themselves back in Hogsmeade, only this time it was in part to keep an eye on the students. Once again, they ended up in the Three Broomsticks.
"You know when it hit me that I might have been wrong about you?" Harry blurted.
"Um ... no?"
"Seventh year. When I came back to school and you weren't here. I missed you."
"You missed me?" Draco asked incredulously. "But we hated each other."
"Yeah, but you were like that one constant in my life here. I'd walk into the Great Hall, and look over at the Slytherin table, and you'd look up at me and sneer. It was just the way things were. I missed that when I came back."
"I'm touched, Potter."
"No, really. When I played Quidditch, there was no one to challenge me. It was boring. Do you know how hard it is to be bored doing something you supposedly love?"
"So it's my fault you were bored in seventh year?"
"Entirely your fault."
"Well, good then."
"What?"
"I'm glad that finally I managed to get under your skin somehow."
"Oh, you always managed to get under my skin," Harry admitted.
"Do tell."
"You were always there, irritating the shit out of me. Coming up with plans to embarrass me or get me into trouble."
"Most of which failed abysmally."
"I don't know. Those badges were a nice touch."
Draco smiled reminiscently. "Yeah, those were pretty good." That earned him a punch in the arm. "Hey!"
"Then there were the interviews with Skeeter."
Draco had the good grace to look a bit embarrassed by that. "About that --"
"In the past, remember? Anyway, I became rather obsessed with you in sixth year. I almost skipped Quidditch just to follow you around."
"Aw, Potter, I didn't know you cared," he said, batting his eyelashes.
"Git," Harry replied playfully. "I knew you were up to something, and I was determined to catch you at it."
"Ah, but I was too good for you."
"Yeah, well, let's not talk about that too much. My point is that you were so much a part of my life in school that it just didn't feel right being there without you. It was very distracting."
"My presence has that effect on people," Draco teased.
Harry laughed. "I suppose it does," he replied, no longer laughing.
"Funny, but your absence had the opposite effect on me."
Harry gasped and grabbed his chest. "You wound me!"
"Funny."
"Well, how do you mean?"
"I won't count seventh year at Hogwarts, because I was too busy trying not to do anything that might get back to Voldemort. It was all I could do to not think about him being back at the house with my parents." He shuddered at the memory. "But when I was at Durmstrang, I immersed myself in my studies. I was determined to do my very best, and prove McGonagall wrong."
"What do you mean?"
"She didn't think I was worth having back here, so I wanted to prove her wrong."
"I thought you were worth it," Harry said solemnly.
Draco felt his cheeks go pink, as Harry repeated the words he had written on that letter so long ago. "So you've said."
"It's true. Dumbledore and Snape knew it too."
"Apparently our Headmistress did too." At Harry's puzzled look, he added, "She recommended me to Durmstrang at the time. Anyway, without you there I was able to focus more."
"Aw, I didn't know I was so captivating --"
"More like an ever-present thorn in my side."
"Sure, sure. You just won't admit that you missed me."
"No, really. Without having to think up ways to knock you off that pedestal everyone put you on, and make sure your head didn't inflate to double its normal size, I had lots of time to dedicate to my studies."
"And look at this. Without you here, I managed to make it through three years without my head exploding."
"Amazing, that. I suppose you've matured."
"Careful, Draco, that was almost a compliment."
"Right," he nodded. "I won't let it happen again."
December 2001
"What are you doing for Christmas?" Harry asked one morning at breakfast.
"I haven't finalized anything yet, but Mother has asked me to join her in France, so I'll probably go there. You?"
"The usual, I suppose. I'll go to the Burrow for Christmas dinner, but besides that, I'll stay close to home - here, I mean."
"The Burrow? How is that now?"
"What do you mean?"
"You used to date the weaselette, so I imagine that might be a bit uncomfortable."
"No, not really."
Draco gave him a look that said clearly that he didn't believe a word. "Come on, Harry. She only had eyes for you from the day she started at Hogwarts. Probably before she even met you, considering how awe-struck she was."
"She wasn't awe-struck," Harry argued, unable to stop himself blushing.
Draco nudged him in the shoulder. "You can't honestly tell me that you didn't notice her following you around like a lost puppy all those years? And in sixth year, when she was flaunting all those guys she dated? Come on. She kept watching you the whole time she was with them!"
Harry almost choked on his toast. "What?!"
"Oh, it was nauseating! She would throw herself at whichever poor sod she was dating the moment you were near. Then she'd watch for your reaction, and walk away, flipping her hair in that annoying way. Honestly, it was difficult to keep my food down some days."
Harry gave him a curious look. "What?" Draco asked. "It's not like the whole school couldn't see what she was up to. And then, typically, you fell for it."
Harry smirked at him. "My, my, Draco. If I didn't know better, I'd say you almost sound jealous."
"What are you talking about?" he asked. Unfortunately, he could feel the heat of the blood rushing to his face. Damn his pale complexion! "I am merely observant. We Slytherins are very good at observation, I will have you know."
"Whatever you say."
~*~*~
Draco thought about what Harry had said that night, and wondered if there wasn't an element of truth to it. He had long ago acknowledged to himself that he had been jealous of Granger and the weasel's friendship with Harry, but was he really jealous of the she-weasel? He could accept that Harry was good looking. Oh, who was he kidding? Besides that mop of hair, Harry was fucking gorgeous. Draco could admit that. It didn't mean anything.
He tossed and turned for hours that night, and when sleep finally did claim him, it was with a picture of Harry swimming before his eyes.
On the last day of term before the Christmas holidays, none other than Ginevra Weasley walked into the Great Hall as though she belonged there.
"Hi Harry! I thought I'd come by to bring you to the Burrow."
"Er ..." Harry, eloquent as always, replied. "I think I know my way there, Gin."
The weaselette laughed that annoyingly high laugh of hers - the kind that sends shivers down your spine like the sound of a Banshee locked in a cage - and flipped her hair like she used to do in school. It was all Draco could do not to conjure a pair of scissors and chop it off.
Harry glanced at Draco, who gave him a see what I mean? look. Harry shrugged, then turned to Ginny and smiled. "Why don't you join us for dinner?"
What?!
"I don't mind if I do," she said, giggling and flinging her hair again. "You don't mind scooting over, do you Draco?"
"Actually --"
"Of course he doesn't mind," Harry cut in, quite unhelpfully.
The meal was unbearable, having to watch the weaselette flirt blatantly with Harry all through the main course. However, it was as pudding arrived that Draco had to do something. Ginny's hand reached for Harry's thigh under the table, and she started to rub his leg. Draco saw red.
"Get your filthy hands off him!" Draco seethed, mindful of the group of students just out of earshot.
She let go of Harry's leg, turned around and levelled Draco with a glare that he was sure would have cowed weaker men. Gone was all her artificial sweetness. "What did you say to me?"
"I said that you should keep your hands to yourself."
"What's it to you?" she snapped.
Draco looked her in the eye, matching her glare, and spat, "He's mine!"
Draco awoke in a cold sweat. He sat up, trying to get his bearings. At once he realized that he'd been dreaming. It had felt so real, though.
~*~*~
Draco and Harry had initiated a weekly Quidditch drop-in match for anyone that wished to play, whether on the house teams or not. It had been a resounding success. After the last one before the holidays, the two of them dismissed the players, and decided to clean out the storage shed themselves, to try to re-establish some sense of organization.
"So, when are you going to France?" Harry asked.
"I'll be leaving here Christmas Eve. Mother asked me to stay until New Year's, but I don't know any of her new acquaintances, and I think I'd rather come back here after Christmas. It'll give me time to work on my new potion."
"New potion?"
"Yes, didn't I mention it?"
"No. What are you developing? Please tell me it's a hangover cure, and that it'll be ready for New Year's Day."
Draco rolled his eyes and laughed. "No, it's not something as plebeian as a hangover potion, Potter. It is medicinal, though. I just don't want to talk about it just yet. I've only just developed it, and I need to test it."
"Oh, come on. You can tell me," Harry said, grinning that endearing grin of his. When was it that Draco had started categorizing Harry's smiles?
"I ... I don't know."
"I promise I won't tell anyone."
"Very well. I will have you know that it's something remarkable. Well, provided it works, that is."
"If you made it, I have no doubt it will work," Harry announced.
Draco beamed as his stomach did a bit of a flip. "You know, the Potions Master at Durmstrang said the same thing to me."
"Well then, it must be true!" Harry smiled as he placed the last of the brooms in the shed. "So, do tell. What is this potion supposed to do?"
"I am hoping that it will help reach some people who have been permanently damaged by the Cruciatus Curse." Harry's eyes grew wide. "Not that I can cure them, or anything. I believe they've been too damaged for that, but ... well, I think I can help them regain some form of communication skills."
"What?!"
"It's really only in the early stages, but ... well, I kept thinking about all the damage dear Auntie Bella had done, and wondering if there was something I could do to help, you know?"
"You did this to help Neville?"
"Well ... yes. And others like him. I thought about what it would be like, you know. I lost my father, but I had closure. I don't know what I'd do if I had to see him, but couldn't reach him. I thought maybe, just maybe, I could do something to help."
Harry wrapped his arms around Draco's waist and flung him around, plunking him back down on the ground. "You are an incredible person, you know that Draco?" Then he grabbed Draco's cheeks, pulled him in and gave him a great big smack on the lips. "Incredible!"
Draco smiled up at a beaming Harry, and couldn't help but bring his fingers to his lips. Lips that Harry had just kissed. Lips that still tingled. It may have been a chaste kiss, but it didn't matter. It still meant the world to Draco.
~*~*~
"So when are you coming back?" Harry asked. He was watching Draco pack his things for his trip to France.
"There's no need to pout," Draco teased. "I'll only be gone for three days."
"Three days? You look like you're going for a month!"
Draco glared at him. "One must always be prepared when one is going to be among society."
"Well, excuse me." Harry rolled his eyes. "I thought you were just going for two days?"
"What's the matter, Potter? Going to miss me?" Draco teased. He knew that he was going to miss Harry, but he wasn't about to admit that.
"As a matter of fact, yes," Harry admitted. "I will miss you. I've grown rather accustomed to having you around."
"Have you?" Draco asked as he stopped packing. He had thought about this moment ever since Harry had kissed him that day. He had replayed it in his mind a thousand times, trying to convince himself of what he should do. In the end, the memory of that dream and the knowledge that Harry would be with Ginny for two days made his decision for him.
"Mm hmm. I have. Like I said before, Hogwarts just isn't the same without you."
"Ah, but you won't be at Hogwarts the whole time, will you, Harry? You'll be at the Burrow for two days," he pointed out. "What about when you're there?" Draco walked over to where Harry was sitting. "Will you miss me when you're there too?" He was standing directly in front of Harry as he asked.
"I don't know," Harry replied.
"Wrong answer," Draco said. He reached out to take Harry's face in his hands, then he kissed him softly on the mouth. He felt Harry tense up, and for a moment he was afraid that he'd done the wrong thing. But then Harry relaxed, wrapped his arms around Draco's back, and pulled him in closer.
Draco let his tongue trace Harry's bottom lip, before pulling it into his mouth and nibbling on it. Harry's mouth opened, and his tongue reached into Draco's mouth where the two joined. The soft sweep of their exploring tongues sent shivers through Draco's body, begging for more, urging their bodies closer together. The kiss lasted what felt at once like a lifetime, and like a fleeting moment, and then it was over. They broke apart, both flushed and breathing heavily.
"Wow! What was that?" Harry asked.
"That was what you'll be thinking about when you're at the Burrow."
"Okay, then."
~*~*~
Three days away from Harry felt like an eternity, even with all the social events Narcissa had lined up. He spent his days shopping and sightseeing, and his evenings attending parties. They had very little time to themselves, even spending Christmas dinner with Narcissa's new acquaintances.
Draco hesitated calling them friends, as he was all too familiar with how fly-by-night his family's friends had been in the past. But they seemed nice all the same. A little more genuine perhaps than 'friends' of the past. He inwardly hoped so for his mother's sake, especially when he thought about Harry and how genuine his feelings for him were.
"You seem different, Draco," Narcissa pointed out at breakfast just before he was to leave.
"How so?"
"More at peace than I've seen you in a long time."
"Teaching must agree with me," he said, avoiding the subject of his social life. He didn't know what would happen between him and Harry when he returned, so he didn't want to say anything prematurely.
"No, it's more than that."
"I suppose I missed home more than I would like to admit," Draco acknowledged.
"I suppose that's it," Narcissa replied. She still looked at him as though trying to read his mind. Thank you Aunt Bella for the Occlumency lessons.
~*~*~
He was still unpacking when there was a knock at his door. "Come in," he called.
Harry entered his room, closed the door, cast Locking and Silencing Charms on it, and pulled Draco into his arms. The kiss was needy, hungry, all tongues and teeth, and it was perfect. Draco was dizzy with desire, and could barely catch his breath, yet still he wanted more. He pressed his body against Harry's, but it was not enough. Not nearly enough.
"Don't ever do that to me again," Harry growled between kisses.
"What?" Draco asked, barely getting the word out.
"Kiss me and then leave me ... wanting."
Draco laughed. "Wanting, hmm? Just the way I like you."
Harry grabbed him by the shoulders, and pressed him against the wall, his leg between Draco's and his hard length pressed against Draco's thigh.
"Do you feel that?" Harry asked. "Can you feel what you do to me?"
Draco smiled as he pressed his own erection against Harry's leg. "The same as what you do to me," he admitted.
"Ah, but did you think of me all the time you were away?" Harry asked. "Because I though of you. Every. Fucking. Minute."
"Good," Draco said.
"Good?" Harry asked. "You think it's good to be sporting this" - he emphasized his point by grinding his hips into Draco - "when I'm at the Burrow? When Ginny is around twenty-four hours a day?"
Fuck.
"Yes, Draco, Ginny. The one who wouldn't hesitate sneaking into my bed."
Draco's glare apparently missed its mark, as Harry responded with a laugh.
"I knew you were jealous," he said triumphantly. Harry tried to kiss him, but Draco turned away, still stinging from what he'd said. Harry licked a path along Draco's neck, from his collarbone to his ear, then he nibbled on the lobe, which sent waves of heat directly to Draco's groin.
"Relax, Draco," Harry whispered in his ear, then tickled it with his tongue. "I'm all yours. Have been for a long time."
"Oh, yeah?" Draco challenged. "How long?"
"Sixth year, maybe longer."
"Fuck."
"Mmm," Harry replied, reaching down to pull Draco's shirt out from his trousers as he resumed his nibbling of Draco's ear. "That's the general idea, yes."
"So long," Draco whimpered as Harry undid his shirt and kissed his way down, swirling his tongue over a nipple. "Wanted this for so long, Harry."
"How long?" Harry asked, trailing his tongue down to Draco's navel.
"Too long." Harry pulled down his trousers and pants. Oh, God!" Draco cried as Harry licked the tip of his leaking cock. "Want you so much," he said. It was true. He had never wanted anything so much in his life. The sensations were overwhelming, and he couldn't believe this was happening. With Harry.
"I'm all yours," Harry said as he fell to his knees, and engulfed Draco's length in the wet warmth of his mouth.
Draco's fingers wound their way through Harry's hair, as he called out, "Mine."
January - May 2002
The next few months flew by, and their relationship blossomed. They alternated which living quarters they slept in most nights, occasionally sleeping separately, not yet ready to discuss anything with the rest of the faculty. They didn't hide their feelings for each other, but they weren't obvious about it either. They confined their hand-holding to those times when they were in Hogsmeade on a weekend when the students were not, and they remained professional at all times. Behind closed doors was another matter.
They found that they were very compatible in the bedroom ... the shower ... the sitting room ... really, wherever and whenever the desire took them. They found themselves basking in the glow of a new relationship.
They told Harry's friends and Draco's mother before the Easter holidays, as they had decided to go away together. Harry had wanted to see Durmstrang, and meet this famous Potions Master, Bukhalov, and the friends Draco had made while there.
He introduced Harry to Katja, who had made a point of greeting Draco as soon as she heard he was in the building.
"Professor Malfoy!" She rushed over and gave Draco a hug. Harry grinned at the sight.
"I guess you like Professor Malfoy, then?" Harry asked.
"You talk funny," she said in English. "Just like him." She pointed to Draco.
"That's because I'm from England too," Harry replied.
"What is England like?"
Harry looked perplexed at the question. He thought for a moment and answered, "It rains a lot." Looking at her unsatisfied expression, he added, "And there are lots of sheep."
"Sheep?" she asked.
"Come now, Katja," a deep voice called from the distance. "Let Professor Malfoy show his friend around, yes?"
Pouting, she reluctantly agreed, but only after Draco promised to join her for dinner.
All in all, it was a wonderful visit, and Draco was pleased that his relationship with Harry hadn't put his mentor off.
"It looks good on you, happiness," Bukhalov had said. "You should let yourself be happy. You deserve it." Draco may not have agreed, but those parting words would stay with him for a long time afterwards.
"The quality of mercy is not strained;
It droppeth as the gentle rain from Heaven
Upon the place beneath.
It is twice blessed -
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes."
June 5, 2002
"I have a rather unconventional gift for you," Harry said after breakfast.
Draco's eyes lit up. "Is it big?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "You could say that."
Draco pouted. "Well, is it or not?"
"Yes, it is."
"Oh, good. So where is it?"
"It's not here."
"Is it in your rooms?" he asked. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he added suggestively, "Is it the kind of gift I'll need to open in private?"
"Mmm," Harry groaned. "That will come later."
"You mean we will come later?"
Harry rolled his eyes again. "You're insatiable, you know that?"
"You wouldn't want me any other way," Draco reminded him.
"Too true. Now, do you want your gift or not?"
"Definitely."
"We'll have to walk outside the grounds, because I have to take you to your gift."
Draco looked at him with excitement. "It's that big?"
Harry smiled, though he looked a bit nervous. "Yes, Draco, it's that big."
They walked to the edge of the castle wards, and Harry took Draco's arm. "I'll Apparate us there."
When Draco found his bearings after the Side-Along, he could smell familiar scents. Scents from his childhood. He looked past Harry to see the Manor.
"What is this, Harry?"
"I would think you'd recognize your home," he said nervously. "After all, you did live here for eighteen years."
"You didn't."
"I did."
"You bought ... but you never said ... it was some anonymous buyer ..."
"Yes, I bought it. I never said, because I needed to be sure no one would ever be able to take it away from you again. I had my solicitors review the law under which the Ministry took possession of it, and there was some stipulation that your family's cases could be reopened for another three years after they took possession of it, which meant they could seize it again without any more evidence than they already had. That time ran out a few months ago. I've been dying to tell you since that day, but I wanted it to be something special, something meaningful."
"Harry, I can't accept this. It's too much, and I don't have enough money left after they took so much in reparations. I can't pay you back on my salary."
"It's like the wand, Draco."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean it was always yours. I'm just returning it to its rightful owner."
"But you paid --"
"I have more money than I could spend in a lifetime, Draco. I still have plenty of money. The house is yours. I have already had the papers drawn up to transfer ownership."
"It's too much," Draco repeated.
"You can't put a price on your family, on your history," Harry insisted. "I am correcting a wrong, plain and simple."
"But, Harry, it's not your place to correct this wrong. It's mine."
"But you couldn't before. If you had tried, they would have tightened up the law before you ever got it back."
"That doesn't mean that I can accept this gift --"
"I told you, it's not a gift. I'm correcting a wrong."
"Call it whatever you like; I just can't accept it."
Harry looked frustrated, but as much as Draco wanted his home back, and as much as he was grateful to Harry for the gesture, his pride wouldn't allow it.
"How about this? We will continue to petition the Ministry to have the law that allowed them to take your home to begin with repealed. Then we will ask for the money back that they got from the sale of the house."
"It won't work, Harry."
"Maybe not. But we'll try. And right now they cannot take it away from you. I needed to stay silent for this long, because they could have taken it away again. But now we can fight."
"All right, Harry. We'll fight."
"Excellent, so let's go see your house!" Harry said, looking quite pleased with himself.
"Harry, I still can't --"
"Draco, the paperwork has already been drawn up. The house is yours whether you acknowledge it or not. I never had the chance to experience family; you did. Don't let your pride stand in the way of this."
"Listen, Harry," he said, trying to keep from screaming at him.
"I just realised something else," Harry interrupted. He looked at Draco with a grin. "I bought the Manor with money that Sirius left me."
"And your point would be?"
"Sirius was a Black. Your mother is a Black. It's your family's money anyway." Harry looked rather pleased with himself as he gave Draco a look that dared him to argue with that logic.
Draco thought about it. He recalled being angry that somehow Harry - Potter at the time - had inherited what he'd felt was rightfully his mother's. But now ... well, everything was different now. Still ... Harry put forward a good argument.
"But it was his money, Harry, and he left it to you."
"But nothing, Draco. Argument is over. The house is yours, as it should be. And we'll fight the Ministry to return the money they earned on the sale of it. Meanwhile, come on. I had it maintained for all this time, but I never moved in, so it's pretty much the same as when you left."
"You've never been inside?"
"Of course I have. I had to face some of my own demons from the past."
"Harry, I'm sorry --"
"Stop right there. I thought we were long past that. None of what happened during the war was your fault. You denied who I was for as long as you could, and you stopped Crabbe killing us. You played your part as best you could given the situation you were in. We need to move on. You need to forgive yourself."
"Fine." Draco didn't like it, but he knew deep down inside that Harry was right.
"I needed to come here to face the past, in order to move ahead. I did that, and haven't been back since."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Well, then," Draco grinned. "Let me show you around."
"There is a tide in the affairs of men,
Which taken at the flood leads on to fortune.
Omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries.
On such a full sea are we now afloat.
And we must take the current when it serves, or lose our ventures."
December 2002
It had been six months since Harry had given Draco back his home, but there were days he still couldn't believe he was there. He had told his mother about Harry's gift the very next day, and though she was thrilled to hear it, she wanted nothing to do with moving back. She was happy in France, and had even started dating someone. She had begun to move on with her life. It was time that he did the same, she had told him. When he had insisted that he had moved on, she had simply told him the same thing that Harry always did. He needed to let the past go, forgive himself, and allow himself to be happy.
He and Harry had grown closer since that time, and Draco had made a point of not questioning why any more. Harry had forgiven him his past, and Draco had reluctantly, but finally done the same. It wasn't easy, and sometimes those decisions of his reared their ugly heads, but Harry never once brought them up, so Draco had to accept that he was sincere, and the proverbial axe was not about to fall. The days of upheaval were long gone.
So it was that Draco faced his first Christmas back at the Manor. He was excited but worried at the same time. He had something planned that he hoped would go well, but only time would tell.
It was Christmas Eve, and he and Harry were celebrating the evening together in his ancestral home. The home where his past, present and future were linked.
"Harry," Draco ventured, after they had finished their meal and had retired to the sitting room. "This is your home."
"Draco, please don't start that again," Harry begged. "We've had such a nice evening. The house is yours, as it should be. I really wish you'd drop it."
"No, you misunderstand me," Draco clarified. He got a box from under the tree and handed it to Harry. "Open it."
Harry opened the box. "Is this what I think it is?"
"Yes, Harry." Draco tried to read Harry's face, but he couldn't. "I realize that as men we can't marry, but I wanted to give you this ring as a sign of my commitment to you. So, what I said about the house being yours ... I meant that I want you to move here, to live with me."
"Are you sure?" Harry asked, the sides of his mouth twitching.
"I've never been more sure of anything in my life. Look ahead, right?"
"Look ahead," Harry agreed.
"Well, I'm looking ahead, and all I see is you. So what do you say, will you be my future?"
"I wouldn't want it any other way." Harry removed the ring from the box and handed it to Draco to put on his finger. "You realize what this means, right?" he asked as he leaned in for a kiss.
"What does it mean?"
"It means that you'll be entertaining Ron and Hermione too," he grinned. "In fact, when you get around to telling Neville about your new potion, I suspect he'll be frequenting the place as well."
"Good God, a gaggle of Gryffindors! My father is probably rolling around in his grave as we speak."
Harry leaned in and gave Draco a delicious kiss that promised so much more. He pulled back and grinned widely. "When you put it that way, I definitely accept."
Author's notes:
** I may yet add a small part from Harry's pov that reveals what, in my mind, he went through (his journey went unseen for the purpose of this story) to become the person he was when Draco encountered him again three years later. Meanwhile, I provide this, my inspiration for the characterisations, as a response to some comments at HDWC suggesting that the H/D journey was a little too easy. **
When I wrote this, I made the story of The Tower Draco's personal journey. I imagined Harry spending the three years that Draco was away in part feeling guilty that he couldn't manage to save Narcissa and Draco from their fate, so he was determined to set aside their past and make an effort to be nice when Draco returned. I also pictured Harry spending that time reflecting on his life and his choices, while watching others move on around him.
I see Harry and Draco's growth as people to be a natural progression, part of maturing. Also, I feel strongly that war has a profound effect on people, causing them to reflect on their relationships and the way they interact with others. I don't believe either Harry or Draco would be the same afterwards.
.
Author: sesheta_66
Beta: softly_sweetly
Word count: ~ 17,500
Rating: Hard R
Summary: Having just survived the war, Draco prepares, with some trepidation, for life to get back to normal, or as normal as it can be after war. What he is not prepared for is upheaval, the complete transformation of the world in which he lives. How he chooses to react and move on will determine his fate in this post-war wizarding world.
The Affairs of Men - Part 2 of 2
"The rarer action is
In virtue than in vengeance."
August 2001
Draco accepted the invitation for an interview from McGonagall, and found himself in her office near the end of summer, answering standard questions, seemingly meeting her approval.
"Now, Mr Malfoy, do you have any questions for me?" she asked once she had concluded the formal interview.
"Why?"
"I should think that's obvious. Even though you attended school here, you may have questions about how things are run."
"No, I mean why me? I thought you hated me."
"Certainly not, Mr Malfoy."
"But you didn't let me come back here."
"No, and for good reason."
"And now?"
"Now I have good reason to offer you a job." Draco gave her a perplexed look. "At no time were your skills ever in question. Your will, your judgement, your motivation, yes. But never your skills. You seem to have matured in the years since we last corresponded, and I am willing to take the chance that you will be an asset to Hogwarts."
"But the last time you wrote me, you said I posed a risk to the students."
"Indeed you did. Your presence here would have been extremely disruptive, and to be honest, might have been dangerous for you. And, as a result, could have become dangerous to others."
"You did it to protect me?"
"Oh, it wasn't nearly as selfless an act as that, but it was one of my considerations. You hadn't earned the right to return to this school."
"And now I have?"
"Yes, I believe you have. I will admit that, had it not been for Professor Bukhalov's regular correspondence and free-flowing accolades over the years, I would have serious reservations. But his high opinion of you, coupled with a rather annoying stream of reminders from one of your former classmates that you had been acting under duress, has softened my resolve. So, Mr Malfoy, the job is yours if you want it."
Draco spent the end of the summer in France visiting Narcissa. She was doing very well there, and had blended in well with the upper-echelon of French society. She had been very pleased to hear his news about the job, and that put any doubts he might have had aside. Throughout everything, she had been his one constant, even when she wasn't right there with him.
"A friend is one that knows you as you are,
understands where you have been,
accepts what you have become,
and still, gently allows you to grow."
September - November 2001
On his first day back at Hogwarts, Draco was in for a shock. Potter was also teaching there. Defence Against the Dark Arts, naturally.
"Draco!" he called out and grasped Draco's hand. "Good to see you back." He clapped him on the back and led their way into the Great Hall as though they were old pals. He motioned for Draco to sit next to him, and brought him up to date on the goings on at Hogwarts until the sorting ceremony was to begin.
As Draco watched the sorting, he looked around the room, catching Potter's eye in the process. He smiled at Draco, and everything felt surreal. Potter chatted with him all through their meal, again as though they had been friends for years, and not enemies. It took everything in him not to scream at the man.
Finally, when all the students were filing out to their houses, Draco turned on Potter.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"What?" Potter replied, in his typically clueless Gryffindor way.
"You're being ..."
"Nice?"
"Yes! Stop it at once!"
"But why?" Was that a smirk on his face? Was Potter smirking at him?
"It's ... it's ... confusing!"
"Oh, well, I wouldn't want to confuse you." Yes, he definitely was smirking now.
"You know what I mean," Draco said through a clenched jaw.
"Actually, Draco, I don't."
"And stop calling me Draco!"
"No."
"What?"
"No. You know, it means the opposite of yes."
"Argh!" Draco stormed off to his rooms after that. He spent his first night as flustered and aggravated by Potter as he had in his first year after the git had refused his hand. Now he was being nice and it was really throwing Draco off. Well, two could play that game!
The next day, Draco greeted Potter before he had a chance to initiate conversation.
"Good morning, Potter."
"Good morning, Draco." Again with the first name.
"So, how long have you been teaching here?"
"This will be my first year teaching, but I've been assisting for the past two."
"Do you like it?" Draco wasn't sure why, but he was actually interested in Potter's response.
"I love it!" he said, and it showed on his face. His smile reached his eyes, and the joy reflected in them like a child's at Christmas. "It's amazing to watch someone struggle with a spell, work hard at it, and eventually get it. That look of wonder when the spell works is worth all that work, don't you think?"
Draco realized that Potter had a pleasant, and rather infectious smile. Suddenly it wasn't so difficult to be nice to him. "I do. That moment when you can see it in their eyes that they get it, you know. It doesn't get much more satisfying than that for a teacher."
"So I take it you enjoy teaching as well?"
"Yes, I do. I wouldn't have ever imagined I would like it, or that I'd be any good at it, but --"
"I thought you were great at everything?" Harry teased.
"Oh, I am, Potter," Draco replied with a cheeky grin. "I most certainly am."
Draco smirked as he watched Potter's cheeks go a deep shade of pink at that last remark. Well, well. Being nice to Potter certainly had its merits.
Over the next few weeks, Draco found himself spending more and more time with Potter. They were, after all, the only ones on staff under fifty - perhaps even sixty - and they surprisingly had a lot in common.
One weekend, when neither of them had duties at the school, they ventured out to Hogsmeade for the afternoon. Each of them bought a few items they'd need for their classes before they wandered into the Three Broomsticks. Draco cringed as he saw Rosmerta behind the bar.
Potter grasped his arm gently. "Are you okay? Did you want to go somewhere else?" His touch seemed to have a calming effect on Draco's nerves.
"No," Draco replied. "I need to face her eventually, don't I?"
"I suppose so, but it doesn't have to be so soon."
"Potter, listen --"
"Would you just call me Harry already? We've known each other for years, and I'd like to think we're friends." He stopped and looked earnestly at Draco. "We are friends, now, aren't we?"
Draco smiled. "Yes, Potter - Harry - we're friends now."
"Good. That's settled. I'll go up and get us some drinks. Butterbeer okay with you?"
"Sure."
When Pott-Harry returned, Draco asked, "Why?"
"Excuse me?"
"Why? You had no reason to be nice to me, and yet ..."
"Why shouldn't I be nice to you?"
"Oh, how about because we've always hated each other? We were on opposite sides of the war? My father and his boss tried to kill you so many times I lost count? I tried to hand you over to the maniac myself?"
Harry took a swig of his Butterbeer and grinned. "Let me try to respond to all of that. We didn't hate each other; we were just ... well, okay, we hated each other. I'll give you that one. But we're adults now, and I'd like to think we've managed to get past that. We were never on opposite sides of the war. We --"
"Yes we were," Draco interrupted.
"Let me make my point, and then you can come up with some stupid argument against what I say, yeah?" Draco glared. "Good. We may have had different ideas, but you were never on a side. I believe that you would have stayed out of the war altogether, had Voldemort not threatened your family. I think you were much the same as Snape in that respect."
"What do you mean?"
"Snape was in love with my mother."
"What?!"
"Long story, which I can get into later. The point I'm trying to make is that as soon as Voldemort threatened her, Snape was lost to him. He no longer looked to Voldemort as a leader. He saw him as the heartless, ruthless, spineless snake that he was. And I believe that your confidence in him was shattered the moment he threatened your parents. I don't think I would have made the same choice as you, but how do I know? I was never placed in your situation."
"Yes you were."
"Not exactly. I already knew that he'd kill everyone whether I did what he wanted or not. I had been inside his head. I knew how he thought."
Draco shuddered involuntarily at Harry's admission. "You really were, weren't you?"
"Yup," he replied casually. How is it that he can talk about this so calmly? "I watched what he made you do, and I saw the look of terror and disgust on your face. You were never a killer, Draco. You're too good a person for that."
"But my father --"
"Isn't you. And you aren't him. Which leads me to my next point. The number of times Lucius and Voldemort tried to kill me has nothing to do with you. You are not Lucius. Just like I am not James."
"What?"
"My father and godfather tormented Snape for years. I didn't want to believe it, but Snape was telling the truth about how my father acted. Of course, that wasn't all there was to him, but that was what Snape was subjected to. And he loved my mother, so when my parents started dating, that only made Snape hate him more."
"And that's why he hated you."
"That's why he hated me."
"The sins of the father."
"That's right. I for one do not plan on repeating that mistake if I can help it. I didn't believe Snape and I hated him. But he protected me."
Draco looked confused and once again found himself asking, "What?"
"Much as he protected you, Draco, Snape also protected me. He did it because Dumbledore asked him to, in honour of my mother's memory."
"That old man was a manipulative bastard."
"You have no idea," Harry laughed. "Anyway, you asked why I was nice to you. Well, I figured I may have misjudged you. I've thought about this a lot, you know. I was hasty to brush you off first year, and after that ... well, things just escalated, didn't they?"
"That's putting it mildly."
Harry chuckled. "Given who your father was, I don't think a friendship would have survived, even if we had one in school. But now --"
"Now you think it will?"
"What's to stop us being friends?"
"Our past."
"Ah, but that's in the past now, isn't it? I'd like to think we can look ahead instead. After all, that's what got you where you are today, right?"
"What do you mean?" Draco asked, curious about Harry's analysis of the situation.
"After the war, you weren't able to carry on as you had wanted. You had to look for other options."
"No kidding. Everything around me had changed. Everything I knew was gone. My father had been killed, I couldn't finish my education at home, everyone that I had thought was a friend was either dead, in jail or gone from my life, I had almost no prospects at all. I had to leave the country, only to find that the Ministry was taking my house too."
"About the Manor --" Harry began.
"Let's not talk about it, okay? I don't blame you. I know it may have seemed that way when I saw you that time you returned my wand to me, but I didn't blame you then, and I don't blame you now. I know you tried your best to stop it --"
"Draco, about the Manor --" he repeated.
"Harry, I appreciate this, really I do. But I don't want to talk about it. Not now. Maybe sometime in the future, but not now."
"Fair enough."
The following weekend, they found themselves back in Hogsmeade, only this time it was in part to keep an eye on the students. Once again, they ended up in the Three Broomsticks.
"You know when it hit me that I might have been wrong about you?" Harry blurted.
"Um ... no?"
"Seventh year. When I came back to school and you weren't here. I missed you."
"You missed me?" Draco asked incredulously. "But we hated each other."
"Yeah, but you were like that one constant in my life here. I'd walk into the Great Hall, and look over at the Slytherin table, and you'd look up at me and sneer. It was just the way things were. I missed that when I came back."
"I'm touched, Potter."
"No, really. When I played Quidditch, there was no one to challenge me. It was boring. Do you know how hard it is to be bored doing something you supposedly love?"
"So it's my fault you were bored in seventh year?"
"Entirely your fault."
"Well, good then."
"What?"
"I'm glad that finally I managed to get under your skin somehow."
"Oh, you always managed to get under my skin," Harry admitted.
"Do tell."
"You were always there, irritating the shit out of me. Coming up with plans to embarrass me or get me into trouble."
"Most of which failed abysmally."
"I don't know. Those badges were a nice touch."
Draco smiled reminiscently. "Yeah, those were pretty good." That earned him a punch in the arm. "Hey!"
"Then there were the interviews with Skeeter."
Draco had the good grace to look a bit embarrassed by that. "About that --"
"In the past, remember? Anyway, I became rather obsessed with you in sixth year. I almost skipped Quidditch just to follow you around."
"Aw, Potter, I didn't know you cared," he said, batting his eyelashes.
"Git," Harry replied playfully. "I knew you were up to something, and I was determined to catch you at it."
"Ah, but I was too good for you."
"Yeah, well, let's not talk about that too much. My point is that you were so much a part of my life in school that it just didn't feel right being there without you. It was very distracting."
"My presence has that effect on people," Draco teased.
Harry laughed. "I suppose it does," he replied, no longer laughing.
"Funny, but your absence had the opposite effect on me."
Harry gasped and grabbed his chest. "You wound me!"
"Funny."
"Well, how do you mean?"
"I won't count seventh year at Hogwarts, because I was too busy trying not to do anything that might get back to Voldemort. It was all I could do to not think about him being back at the house with my parents." He shuddered at the memory. "But when I was at Durmstrang, I immersed myself in my studies. I was determined to do my very best, and prove McGonagall wrong."
"What do you mean?"
"She didn't think I was worth having back here, so I wanted to prove her wrong."
"I thought you were worth it," Harry said solemnly.
Draco felt his cheeks go pink, as Harry repeated the words he had written on that letter so long ago. "So you've said."
"It's true. Dumbledore and Snape knew it too."
"Apparently our Headmistress did too." At Harry's puzzled look, he added, "She recommended me to Durmstrang at the time. Anyway, without you there I was able to focus more."
"Aw, I didn't know I was so captivating --"
"More like an ever-present thorn in my side."
"Sure, sure. You just won't admit that you missed me."
"No, really. Without having to think up ways to knock you off that pedestal everyone put you on, and make sure your head didn't inflate to double its normal size, I had lots of time to dedicate to my studies."
"And look at this. Without you here, I managed to make it through three years without my head exploding."
"Amazing, that. I suppose you've matured."
"Careful, Draco, that was almost a compliment."
"Right," he nodded. "I won't let it happen again."
December 2001
"What are you doing for Christmas?" Harry asked one morning at breakfast.
"I haven't finalized anything yet, but Mother has asked me to join her in France, so I'll probably go there. You?"
"The usual, I suppose. I'll go to the Burrow for Christmas dinner, but besides that, I'll stay close to home - here, I mean."
"The Burrow? How is that now?"
"What do you mean?"
"You used to date the weaselette, so I imagine that might be a bit uncomfortable."
"No, not really."
Draco gave him a look that said clearly that he didn't believe a word. "Come on, Harry. She only had eyes for you from the day she started at Hogwarts. Probably before she even met you, considering how awe-struck she was."
"She wasn't awe-struck," Harry argued, unable to stop himself blushing.
Draco nudged him in the shoulder. "You can't honestly tell me that you didn't notice her following you around like a lost puppy all those years? And in sixth year, when she was flaunting all those guys she dated? Come on. She kept watching you the whole time she was with them!"
Harry almost choked on his toast. "What?!"
"Oh, it was nauseating! She would throw herself at whichever poor sod she was dating the moment you were near. Then she'd watch for your reaction, and walk away, flipping her hair in that annoying way. Honestly, it was difficult to keep my food down some days."
Harry gave him a curious look. "What?" Draco asked. "It's not like the whole school couldn't see what she was up to. And then, typically, you fell for it."
Harry smirked at him. "My, my, Draco. If I didn't know better, I'd say you almost sound jealous."
"What are you talking about?" he asked. Unfortunately, he could feel the heat of the blood rushing to his face. Damn his pale complexion! "I am merely observant. We Slytherins are very good at observation, I will have you know."
"Whatever you say."
~*~*~
Draco thought about what Harry had said that night, and wondered if there wasn't an element of truth to it. He had long ago acknowledged to himself that he had been jealous of Granger and the weasel's friendship with Harry, but was he really jealous of the she-weasel? He could accept that Harry was good looking. Oh, who was he kidding? Besides that mop of hair, Harry was fucking gorgeous. Draco could admit that. It didn't mean anything.
He tossed and turned for hours that night, and when sleep finally did claim him, it was with a picture of Harry swimming before his eyes.
On the last day of term before the Christmas holidays, none other than Ginevra Weasley walked into the Great Hall as though she belonged there.
"Hi Harry! I thought I'd come by to bring you to the Burrow."
"Er ..." Harry, eloquent as always, replied. "I think I know my way there, Gin."
The weaselette laughed that annoyingly high laugh of hers - the kind that sends shivers down your spine like the sound of a Banshee locked in a cage - and flipped her hair like she used to do in school. It was all Draco could do not to conjure a pair of scissors and chop it off.
Harry glanced at Draco, who gave him a see what I mean? look. Harry shrugged, then turned to Ginny and smiled. "Why don't you join us for dinner?"
What?!
"I don't mind if I do," she said, giggling and flinging her hair again. "You don't mind scooting over, do you Draco?"
"Actually --"
"Of course he doesn't mind," Harry cut in, quite unhelpfully.
The meal was unbearable, having to watch the weaselette flirt blatantly with Harry all through the main course. However, it was as pudding arrived that Draco had to do something. Ginny's hand reached for Harry's thigh under the table, and she started to rub his leg. Draco saw red.
"Get your filthy hands off him!" Draco seethed, mindful of the group of students just out of earshot.
She let go of Harry's leg, turned around and levelled Draco with a glare that he was sure would have cowed weaker men. Gone was all her artificial sweetness. "What did you say to me?"
"I said that you should keep your hands to yourself."
"What's it to you?" she snapped.
Draco looked her in the eye, matching her glare, and spat, "He's mine!"
Draco awoke in a cold sweat. He sat up, trying to get his bearings. At once he realized that he'd been dreaming. It had felt so real, though.
~*~*~
Draco and Harry had initiated a weekly Quidditch drop-in match for anyone that wished to play, whether on the house teams or not. It had been a resounding success. After the last one before the holidays, the two of them dismissed the players, and decided to clean out the storage shed themselves, to try to re-establish some sense of organization.
"So, when are you going to France?" Harry asked.
"I'll be leaving here Christmas Eve. Mother asked me to stay until New Year's, but I don't know any of her new acquaintances, and I think I'd rather come back here after Christmas. It'll give me time to work on my new potion."
"New potion?"
"Yes, didn't I mention it?"
"No. What are you developing? Please tell me it's a hangover cure, and that it'll be ready for New Year's Day."
Draco rolled his eyes and laughed. "No, it's not something as plebeian as a hangover potion, Potter. It is medicinal, though. I just don't want to talk about it just yet. I've only just developed it, and I need to test it."
"Oh, come on. You can tell me," Harry said, grinning that endearing grin of his. When was it that Draco had started categorizing Harry's smiles?
"I ... I don't know."
"I promise I won't tell anyone."
"Very well. I will have you know that it's something remarkable. Well, provided it works, that is."
"If you made it, I have no doubt it will work," Harry announced.
Draco beamed as his stomach did a bit of a flip. "You know, the Potions Master at Durmstrang said the same thing to me."
"Well then, it must be true!" Harry smiled as he placed the last of the brooms in the shed. "So, do tell. What is this potion supposed to do?"
"I am hoping that it will help reach some people who have been permanently damaged by the Cruciatus Curse." Harry's eyes grew wide. "Not that I can cure them, or anything. I believe they've been too damaged for that, but ... well, I think I can help them regain some form of communication skills."
"What?!"
"It's really only in the early stages, but ... well, I kept thinking about all the damage dear Auntie Bella had done, and wondering if there was something I could do to help, you know?"
"You did this to help Neville?"
"Well ... yes. And others like him. I thought about what it would be like, you know. I lost my father, but I had closure. I don't know what I'd do if I had to see him, but couldn't reach him. I thought maybe, just maybe, I could do something to help."
Harry wrapped his arms around Draco's waist and flung him around, plunking him back down on the ground. "You are an incredible person, you know that Draco?" Then he grabbed Draco's cheeks, pulled him in and gave him a great big smack on the lips. "Incredible!"
Draco smiled up at a beaming Harry, and couldn't help but bring his fingers to his lips. Lips that Harry had just kissed. Lips that still tingled. It may have been a chaste kiss, but it didn't matter. It still meant the world to Draco.
~*~*~
"So when are you coming back?" Harry asked. He was watching Draco pack his things for his trip to France.
"There's no need to pout," Draco teased. "I'll only be gone for three days."
"Three days? You look like you're going for a month!"
Draco glared at him. "One must always be prepared when one is going to be among society."
"Well, excuse me." Harry rolled his eyes. "I thought you were just going for two days?"
"What's the matter, Potter? Going to miss me?" Draco teased. He knew that he was going to miss Harry, but he wasn't about to admit that.
"As a matter of fact, yes," Harry admitted. "I will miss you. I've grown rather accustomed to having you around."
"Have you?" Draco asked as he stopped packing. He had thought about this moment ever since Harry had kissed him that day. He had replayed it in his mind a thousand times, trying to convince himself of what he should do. In the end, the memory of that dream and the knowledge that Harry would be with Ginny for two days made his decision for him.
"Mm hmm. I have. Like I said before, Hogwarts just isn't the same without you."
"Ah, but you won't be at Hogwarts the whole time, will you, Harry? You'll be at the Burrow for two days," he pointed out. "What about when you're there?" Draco walked over to where Harry was sitting. "Will you miss me when you're there too?" He was standing directly in front of Harry as he asked.
"I don't know," Harry replied.
"Wrong answer," Draco said. He reached out to take Harry's face in his hands, then he kissed him softly on the mouth. He felt Harry tense up, and for a moment he was afraid that he'd done the wrong thing. But then Harry relaxed, wrapped his arms around Draco's back, and pulled him in closer.
Draco let his tongue trace Harry's bottom lip, before pulling it into his mouth and nibbling on it. Harry's mouth opened, and his tongue reached into Draco's mouth where the two joined. The soft sweep of their exploring tongues sent shivers through Draco's body, begging for more, urging their bodies closer together. The kiss lasted what felt at once like a lifetime, and like a fleeting moment, and then it was over. They broke apart, both flushed and breathing heavily.
"Wow! What was that?" Harry asked.
"That was what you'll be thinking about when you're at the Burrow."
"Okay, then."
~*~*~
Three days away from Harry felt like an eternity, even with all the social events Narcissa had lined up. He spent his days shopping and sightseeing, and his evenings attending parties. They had very little time to themselves, even spending Christmas dinner with Narcissa's new acquaintances.
Draco hesitated calling them friends, as he was all too familiar with how fly-by-night his family's friends had been in the past. But they seemed nice all the same. A little more genuine perhaps than 'friends' of the past. He inwardly hoped so for his mother's sake, especially when he thought about Harry and how genuine his feelings for him were.
"You seem different, Draco," Narcissa pointed out at breakfast just before he was to leave.
"How so?"
"More at peace than I've seen you in a long time."
"Teaching must agree with me," he said, avoiding the subject of his social life. He didn't know what would happen between him and Harry when he returned, so he didn't want to say anything prematurely.
"No, it's more than that."
"I suppose I missed home more than I would like to admit," Draco acknowledged.
"I suppose that's it," Narcissa replied. She still looked at him as though trying to read his mind. Thank you Aunt Bella for the Occlumency lessons.
~*~*~
He was still unpacking when there was a knock at his door. "Come in," he called.
Harry entered his room, closed the door, cast Locking and Silencing Charms on it, and pulled Draco into his arms. The kiss was needy, hungry, all tongues and teeth, and it was perfect. Draco was dizzy with desire, and could barely catch his breath, yet still he wanted more. He pressed his body against Harry's, but it was not enough. Not nearly enough.
"Don't ever do that to me again," Harry growled between kisses.
"What?" Draco asked, barely getting the word out.
"Kiss me and then leave me ... wanting."
Draco laughed. "Wanting, hmm? Just the way I like you."
Harry grabbed him by the shoulders, and pressed him against the wall, his leg between Draco's and his hard length pressed against Draco's thigh.
"Do you feel that?" Harry asked. "Can you feel what you do to me?"
Draco smiled as he pressed his own erection against Harry's leg. "The same as what you do to me," he admitted.
"Ah, but did you think of me all the time you were away?" Harry asked. "Because I though of you. Every. Fucking. Minute."
"Good," Draco said.
"Good?" Harry asked. "You think it's good to be sporting this" - he emphasized his point by grinding his hips into Draco - "when I'm at the Burrow? When Ginny is around twenty-four hours a day?"
Fuck.
"Yes, Draco, Ginny. The one who wouldn't hesitate sneaking into my bed."
Draco's glare apparently missed its mark, as Harry responded with a laugh.
"I knew you were jealous," he said triumphantly. Harry tried to kiss him, but Draco turned away, still stinging from what he'd said. Harry licked a path along Draco's neck, from his collarbone to his ear, then he nibbled on the lobe, which sent waves of heat directly to Draco's groin.
"Relax, Draco," Harry whispered in his ear, then tickled it with his tongue. "I'm all yours. Have been for a long time."
"Oh, yeah?" Draco challenged. "How long?"
"Sixth year, maybe longer."
"Fuck."
"Mmm," Harry replied, reaching down to pull Draco's shirt out from his trousers as he resumed his nibbling of Draco's ear. "That's the general idea, yes."
"So long," Draco whimpered as Harry undid his shirt and kissed his way down, swirling his tongue over a nipple. "Wanted this for so long, Harry."
"How long?" Harry asked, trailing his tongue down to Draco's navel.
"Too long." Harry pulled down his trousers and pants. Oh, God!" Draco cried as Harry licked the tip of his leaking cock. "Want you so much," he said. It was true. He had never wanted anything so much in his life. The sensations were overwhelming, and he couldn't believe this was happening. With Harry.
"I'm all yours," Harry said as he fell to his knees, and engulfed Draco's length in the wet warmth of his mouth.
Draco's fingers wound their way through Harry's hair, as he called out, "Mine."
January - May 2002
The next few months flew by, and their relationship blossomed. They alternated which living quarters they slept in most nights, occasionally sleeping separately, not yet ready to discuss anything with the rest of the faculty. They didn't hide their feelings for each other, but they weren't obvious about it either. They confined their hand-holding to those times when they were in Hogsmeade on a weekend when the students were not, and they remained professional at all times. Behind closed doors was another matter.
They found that they were very compatible in the bedroom ... the shower ... the sitting room ... really, wherever and whenever the desire took them. They found themselves basking in the glow of a new relationship.
They told Harry's friends and Draco's mother before the Easter holidays, as they had decided to go away together. Harry had wanted to see Durmstrang, and meet this famous Potions Master, Bukhalov, and the friends Draco had made while there.
He introduced Harry to Katja, who had made a point of greeting Draco as soon as she heard he was in the building.
"Professor Malfoy!" She rushed over and gave Draco a hug. Harry grinned at the sight.
"I guess you like Professor Malfoy, then?" Harry asked.
"You talk funny," she said in English. "Just like him." She pointed to Draco.
"That's because I'm from England too," Harry replied.
"What is England like?"
Harry looked perplexed at the question. He thought for a moment and answered, "It rains a lot." Looking at her unsatisfied expression, he added, "And there are lots of sheep."
"Sheep?" she asked.
"Come now, Katja," a deep voice called from the distance. "Let Professor Malfoy show his friend around, yes?"
Pouting, she reluctantly agreed, but only after Draco promised to join her for dinner.
All in all, it was a wonderful visit, and Draco was pleased that his relationship with Harry hadn't put his mentor off.
"It looks good on you, happiness," Bukhalov had said. "You should let yourself be happy. You deserve it." Draco may not have agreed, but those parting words would stay with him for a long time afterwards.
"The quality of mercy is not strained;
It droppeth as the gentle rain from Heaven
Upon the place beneath.
It is twice blessed -
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes."
June 5, 2002
"I have a rather unconventional gift for you," Harry said after breakfast.
Draco's eyes lit up. "Is it big?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "You could say that."
Draco pouted. "Well, is it or not?"
"Yes, it is."
"Oh, good. So where is it?"
"It's not here."
"Is it in your rooms?" he asked. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he added suggestively, "Is it the kind of gift I'll need to open in private?"
"Mmm," Harry groaned. "That will come later."
"You mean we will come later?"
Harry rolled his eyes again. "You're insatiable, you know that?"
"You wouldn't want me any other way," Draco reminded him.
"Too true. Now, do you want your gift or not?"
"Definitely."
"We'll have to walk outside the grounds, because I have to take you to your gift."
Draco looked at him with excitement. "It's that big?"
Harry smiled, though he looked a bit nervous. "Yes, Draco, it's that big."
They walked to the edge of the castle wards, and Harry took Draco's arm. "I'll Apparate us there."
When Draco found his bearings after the Side-Along, he could smell familiar scents. Scents from his childhood. He looked past Harry to see the Manor.
"What is this, Harry?"
"I would think you'd recognize your home," he said nervously. "After all, you did live here for eighteen years."
"You didn't."
"I did."
"You bought ... but you never said ... it was some anonymous buyer ..."
"Yes, I bought it. I never said, because I needed to be sure no one would ever be able to take it away from you again. I had my solicitors review the law under which the Ministry took possession of it, and there was some stipulation that your family's cases could be reopened for another three years after they took possession of it, which meant they could seize it again without any more evidence than they already had. That time ran out a few months ago. I've been dying to tell you since that day, but I wanted it to be something special, something meaningful."
"Harry, I can't accept this. It's too much, and I don't have enough money left after they took so much in reparations. I can't pay you back on my salary."
"It's like the wand, Draco."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean it was always yours. I'm just returning it to its rightful owner."
"But you paid --"
"I have more money than I could spend in a lifetime, Draco. I still have plenty of money. The house is yours. I have already had the papers drawn up to transfer ownership."
"It's too much," Draco repeated.
"You can't put a price on your family, on your history," Harry insisted. "I am correcting a wrong, plain and simple."
"But, Harry, it's not your place to correct this wrong. It's mine."
"But you couldn't before. If you had tried, they would have tightened up the law before you ever got it back."
"That doesn't mean that I can accept this gift --"
"I told you, it's not a gift. I'm correcting a wrong."
"Call it whatever you like; I just can't accept it."
Harry looked frustrated, but as much as Draco wanted his home back, and as much as he was grateful to Harry for the gesture, his pride wouldn't allow it.
"How about this? We will continue to petition the Ministry to have the law that allowed them to take your home to begin with repealed. Then we will ask for the money back that they got from the sale of the house."
"It won't work, Harry."
"Maybe not. But we'll try. And right now they cannot take it away from you. I needed to stay silent for this long, because they could have taken it away again. But now we can fight."
"All right, Harry. We'll fight."
"Excellent, so let's go see your house!" Harry said, looking quite pleased with himself.
"Harry, I still can't --"
"Draco, the paperwork has already been drawn up. The house is yours whether you acknowledge it or not. I never had the chance to experience family; you did. Don't let your pride stand in the way of this."
"Listen, Harry," he said, trying to keep from screaming at him.
"I just realised something else," Harry interrupted. He looked at Draco with a grin. "I bought the Manor with money that Sirius left me."
"And your point would be?"
"Sirius was a Black. Your mother is a Black. It's your family's money anyway." Harry looked rather pleased with himself as he gave Draco a look that dared him to argue with that logic.
Draco thought about it. He recalled being angry that somehow Harry - Potter at the time - had inherited what he'd felt was rightfully his mother's. But now ... well, everything was different now. Still ... Harry put forward a good argument.
"But it was his money, Harry, and he left it to you."
"But nothing, Draco. Argument is over. The house is yours, as it should be. And we'll fight the Ministry to return the money they earned on the sale of it. Meanwhile, come on. I had it maintained for all this time, but I never moved in, so it's pretty much the same as when you left."
"You've never been inside?"
"Of course I have. I had to face some of my own demons from the past."
"Harry, I'm sorry --"
"Stop right there. I thought we were long past that. None of what happened during the war was your fault. You denied who I was for as long as you could, and you stopped Crabbe killing us. You played your part as best you could given the situation you were in. We need to move on. You need to forgive yourself."
"Fine." Draco didn't like it, but he knew deep down inside that Harry was right.
"I needed to come here to face the past, in order to move ahead. I did that, and haven't been back since."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Well, then," Draco grinned. "Let me show you around."
"There is a tide in the affairs of men,
Which taken at the flood leads on to fortune.
Omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries.
On such a full sea are we now afloat.
And we must take the current when it serves, or lose our ventures."
December 2002
It had been six months since Harry had given Draco back his home, but there were days he still couldn't believe he was there. He had told his mother about Harry's gift the very next day, and though she was thrilled to hear it, she wanted nothing to do with moving back. She was happy in France, and had even started dating someone. She had begun to move on with her life. It was time that he did the same, she had told him. When he had insisted that he had moved on, she had simply told him the same thing that Harry always did. He needed to let the past go, forgive himself, and allow himself to be happy.
He and Harry had grown closer since that time, and Draco had made a point of not questioning why any more. Harry had forgiven him his past, and Draco had reluctantly, but finally done the same. It wasn't easy, and sometimes those decisions of his reared their ugly heads, but Harry never once brought them up, so Draco had to accept that he was sincere, and the proverbial axe was not about to fall. The days of upheaval were long gone.
So it was that Draco faced his first Christmas back at the Manor. He was excited but worried at the same time. He had something planned that he hoped would go well, but only time would tell.
It was Christmas Eve, and he and Harry were celebrating the evening together in his ancestral home. The home where his past, present and future were linked.
"Harry," Draco ventured, after they had finished their meal and had retired to the sitting room. "This is your home."
"Draco, please don't start that again," Harry begged. "We've had such a nice evening. The house is yours, as it should be. I really wish you'd drop it."
"No, you misunderstand me," Draco clarified. He got a box from under the tree and handed it to Harry. "Open it."
Harry opened the box. "Is this what I think it is?"
"Yes, Harry." Draco tried to read Harry's face, but he couldn't. "I realize that as men we can't marry, but I wanted to give you this ring as a sign of my commitment to you. So, what I said about the house being yours ... I meant that I want you to move here, to live with me."
"Are you sure?" Harry asked, the sides of his mouth twitching.
"I've never been more sure of anything in my life. Look ahead, right?"
"Look ahead," Harry agreed.
"Well, I'm looking ahead, and all I see is you. So what do you say, will you be my future?"
"I wouldn't want it any other way." Harry removed the ring from the box and handed it to Draco to put on his finger. "You realize what this means, right?" he asked as he leaned in for a kiss.
"What does it mean?"
"It means that you'll be entertaining Ron and Hermione too," he grinned. "In fact, when you get around to telling Neville about your new potion, I suspect he'll be frequenting the place as well."
"Good God, a gaggle of Gryffindors! My father is probably rolling around in his grave as we speak."
Harry leaned in and gave Draco a delicious kiss that promised so much more. He pulled back and grinned widely. "When you put it that way, I definitely accept."
Author's notes:
** I may yet add a small part from Harry's pov that reveals what, in my mind, he went through (his journey went unseen for the purpose of this story) to become the person he was when Draco encountered him again three years later. Meanwhile, I provide this, my inspiration for the characterisations, as a response to some comments at HDWC suggesting that the H/D journey was a little too easy. **
When I wrote this, I made the story of The Tower Draco's personal journey. I imagined Harry spending the three years that Draco was away in part feeling guilty that he couldn't manage to save Narcissa and Draco from their fate, so he was determined to set aside their past and make an effort to be nice when Draco returned. I also pictured Harry spending that time reflecting on his life and his choices, while watching others move on around him.
I see Harry and Draco's growth as people to be a natural progression, part of maturing. Also, I feel strongly that war has a profound effect on people, causing them to reflect on their relationships and the way they interact with others. I don't believe either Harry or Draco would be the same afterwards.
.