A Little Nudge in the Right Direction (H/D, PG-13)
Now that the big reveal has taken place, I can post my contributions to
hpslashnotsmut. I did two, so I'll post one today, and one tomorrow. So, without further adieu, below is the uber-fluffy fic I did for
lire_casander:
Title: A Little Nudge in the Right Direction
Author:
sesheta_66
Giftee:
lire_casander
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 7814
Author's Note: Pairings desired were Harry/Draco, Harry/Snape, Draco/Neville. I scooped the first pairing on the list, and did Harry/Draco. The request was for "Fluff, lots of fluff please. A kiss. A conversation about their feelings." I hope this covers everything you wanted (no sad ending here), and I really hope you enjoy it!
Author's Note 2: Thanks so very much to my beta
confiteor_3 who is absolutely awesome! All remaining mistakes are mine.
Disclaimer: Much to my dismay, the HP world and all its characters belong to JKR and her publishers. No money is being made. It is all in fun.
Summary: The war has ended, Voldemort is now dead, and people are getting on with their lives. The story begins as almost everyone has moved out of Grimmauld Place.
It had been weeks since the war had ended, Voldemort had perished, most of the remaining Death Eaters had been rounded up, and Harry had been hailed as the official Saviour of the Wizarding World. Gradually, the inhabitants of 12 Grimmauld Place had packed up their things and left, to return to their lives.
Harry's home was no longer the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, so no more meetings were taking place. There was no more traffic running through the house. There were no more unexpected visitors. All in all, Harry should have been happy, but he wasn't. In fact, he was decidedly unhappy. He couldn't explain it, really, because he should be happy, right? He had done what was expected of him, and now he could get on with his life. No -- he could actually have a life now. But what would that life be?
When he thought about it, he realized that he hadn't really thought past the end of the war. Sure, his grand life plan included being an Auror, but he wasn't even sure he wanted that any more. While he had always hated the labels people put on him - the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, the Hero, and now the Saviour - he had to admit that they had defined him in a way. And now, without a label to define his next move in life, what was he really? Who was Harry Potter?
He was a Gryffindor, but he wasn't in school any more, so what did that matter? He was a wizard, but that hardly did much to help him with his next move. He had friends, but they seemed to be going on with their lives. He was at a loss.
The only people left in the house with him now were Ron, Hermione, and of all people, Draco Malfoy. Ron and Hermione were upstairs packing to leave - they had agreed to stay for a while to help restore the place to once more being a home. Well, that's not true. It had never really been much of a home, but they tried to make it feel less like the Headquarters it had been.
Malfoy was currently homeless. It wasn't nearly as bad as it sounded, since he still had plenty of money, but his family home had been seized by the Ministry, and there was no sign that it would be released to him any time soon, if ever. So he had nowhere to go right now. Strange, but Harry found the idea of having someone -- anyone, really -- living in the house with him comforting. That the someone was Draco Malfoy, well, really, what did it matter? He had, after all, fought for the right side in the end, and he and Harry had reached an understanding of sorts. They were civil, if not polite, and they were able to coexist. It was a big house. Harry was pretty sure it could work out, at least short-term.
"Well mate," called Ron. "We're about ready to head out. Anything else you need before we go? Help moving furniture? Banishing any stubborn beasts? Kicking Malfoy to the curb?"
"Ha ha, very funny Weaselby," came Malfoy's voice as he entered the kitchen. "Granger, might I have a word?"
"Um ... uh, sure," she said, looking rather confused. "I'll be right back," she said to Ron as she followed Malfoy into the front room.
"What's that about?" Ron asked.
"No idea," Harry answered truthfully.
========================
"What do you want, Malfoy?" Hermione hastened to ask.
"I want to talk to you before you leave. I've been thinking a lot lately about things I've done, and well ... " His words drifted off, as he tried to put together what he knew he had to say.
"What is it?" Hermione asked with genuine curiosity.
"Hermione -- is it okay if I call you Hermione?" he asked. She nodded in response. "Right then. Hermione, I want to apologize to you. I was raised a certain way, to believe certain things." Her eyes narrowed. "Now before you jump to any conclusions, I'm not using that as an excuse. I just need to say that I was raised to believe in the superiority of purebloods, and my actions followed that line of thinking. But I take full responsibility for any pain I may have caused you through the years, as a result of that. I won't apologize for every little thing I've ever said or done, but I do want to apologize for any time I called you Mudblood. It was hurtful and cruel, and definitely undeserved."
She was gaping at him, eyes wide, a shocked look on her face.
"Yes, well, you may close your mouth. It does nothing for your appearance. Anyway, you didn't deserve to be treated that way, by me or anyone else. And for my part in that, I am sorry. I know we will probably never be friends, but I don't want to part with you on bad terms. You really are a brilliant witch, and I'm sure you'll go far. Of course, I think you deserve better than the weasel, but that's your own decision to make."
He smiled at her, and to his surprise, she smiled back. "I accept your apology, Draco." She reached out her hand, and he gladly took it. "We might not ever be friends, as you say, but I think this is as close to a fresh start as we can get."
"Thank you."
================================
Harry watched his best friend and his - what was he now, his roommate? - enter the kitchen, both smiling. That was odd. He gave both of them a quizzical look, but received nothing except a smile from Hermione and a shrug from Draco.
"Oi! What was that about?" Ron asked, always the subtle one.
"Nothing, Ron. We can talk about it when we get home."
He narrowed his eyes at Draco, looking as though he could stare the truth out of him. Draco just laughed. "Relax, Weaselby, I didn't do anything to your girlfriend. We just had a friendly chat."
"Friendly, my arse."
"Actually, it was friendly, Ronald," Hermione corrected her boyfriend. "You might want to try it sometime."
Ron looked positively gobsmacked, which garnered a chuckle from Malfoy. "Friendly? With ferret boy? I don't think so!"
"Well, how about civil, then?" Malfoy offered, extending his hand. Harry wondered suddenly if this were some sort of practical joke, but when he looked into Malfoy's face, all he saw there was sincerity.
Ron looked from Malfoy's face to his offered hand, and back up to his face. "Is this some kind of joke?" he asked, echoing Harry's own thoughts of a moment before.
"No joke, weasel. I figure the war is over, and life is short. We have spent the past how many years hating each other? We've carried on family bitterness and animosity for long enough. I have never been nice to you, nor have you been nice to me. I know for a fact we will never be friends, and I don't imagine you would want to be, even if I did. But surely we can start treating each other with some sort of mutual respect, as fellow wizards, if nothing else. I'm not offering friendship, just less anger. It truly is very tiring, don't you think?"
Hermione burst into laughter at the look of utter disbelief on Ron's face. Harry was suppressing his own laughter, in order to better hear Ron's response.
"I'll have to think about it," Ron said, not taking Malfoy's hand.
Harry caught Malfoy look from his own hand to Harry's face, and let his arm drop to his side. "Fair enough," Draco agreed. "I guess that's more than I expected really."
"Right, then. Harry, we're off. Floo us if there's anything you need."
"Yes Harry, anything at all. You can reach us at the Burrow for the next while, until we are able to get our own place set up." She gave Harry a big hug, then turned to Malfoy, who held out his hand to her. She pushed it aside, earning a puzzled look from the blonde, then wrapped her arms around him in a gentle hug. Harry grinned as he saw the look of almost fright on Malfoy's face. "Goodbye, Draco."
As his two best friends left, Harry could hear Ron asking, "What's this Draco business? Since when do you call him ... "
"So, what shall we have for dinner, then?" Draco asked after they had left.
"Oh, no you don't. You are so not getting out of this conversation so easily."
"What conversation?" he asked, the picture of innocence.
"Oh puh-lease! You have loathed the both of them for years. What just happened?"
"Nothing, really."
"THAT was not nothing. Hermione hugged you, for Merlin's sake!"
"Yes, well, that was rather unexpected." Harry chuckled at the look of discomfort that came over Malfoy just then.
"And what was that business you were saying to Ron?"
"Here's the thing, Harry. I'm tired. Tired of fighting. Aren't you tired?"
"Tired, yes. But the war is over. What does that have to do with anything?" he asked. Then, as an afterthought, he added, "Did you just call me Harry?"
"Yes I did. You don't mind, do you? We've known each other for so long, and it just seems petty to me that we continue to address each other by our surnames. It speaks to me of the past, and how we felt about each other back then. We don't hate each other now, do we?"
"Of course not."
"Well, then, why not call me Draco? I'm pretty sure it won't cause you any permanent damage."
"Fine, Draco." Harry found it strange to be addressing him this way out loud. But he had to admit that he had been thinking of the man before him less as Malfoy lately, and more as Draco. The name Malfoy was reserved in his mind for the memory of Lucius Malfoy, and his son was much less like him than he used to be -- or than Harry had imagined him to be anyway. He just hadn't ever said the name Draco out loud before.
"There now, that didn't hurt, did it?" he asked with his familiar smirk in place.
Harry smiled and shook his head. "No it didn't ... Draco."
"Now, you were asking me something?"
"As if you had forgotten." Harry rolled his eyes as he said that.
"Here's the thing. I believe what I told Weaselby. Life is too short to spend it angry. It is very tiring coming up with insults, and keeping up barriers to protect against those thrown back. I just don't think I have the energy anymore, Harry."
"Not even with Ron?"
"Not even with the weasel."
"And Hermione?"
"The weasel and I have hated each other for as long as I can remember. Our families never got on, and we will never be friends. Hermione is different. She did nothing to me. All she did was have Muggle parents. I apologized to her for the way I treated her all these years. I explained that I was raised that way, but that I accept responsibility for my own actions, and that I am truly sorry for any pain that I caused her. That's all."
"That's all?" Harry asked in amazement. "But that's huge! What did she say?"
"Nothing. She just stared at me with her mouth open. It was a distasteful reaction, really." Harry chuckled at that comment.
"Well, we mustn't do anything distasteful, of course."
"Naturally, Potter. Etiquette must be observed."
"Oh, are we back to Potter now?"
"Only when you're being plebeian."
"Plebeian, am I?"
"Most definitely."
"Ah, but you love me anyway!"
"Don't we all, oh great Saviour of the Wizarding World."
"Well, you know ... I did what I could," Harry replied, bowing his head and shuffling his feet in a sad attempt to look humble and abashed.
Draco let out a hearty laugh at that. "You know, Harry, I don't think I've ever seen you not tense up when someone called you that before."
"Yeah, well, I know you don't think of me that way, so I knew you were joking."
"I do appreciate what you did for all of us, though."
"Oh brother, don't you start now! My only constant in life is knowing that I've got you and Snape to keep my feet planted firmly on the ground. If you of all people start to worship me, I may have to rise to the occasion."
"And how exactly would you rise to the occasion, Harry?"
"I may have to hire minions to follow me around for starters."
"Oh, yes, I can totally see that," he said with his usual dose of sarcasm. "But no worries, there. I have no intention of 'worshipping' you. I only meant that you should be proud of everything you did. You really are a war hero. You just don't happen to be the only one."
"Don't I know it? In fact, Mr Malfoy, I'd have to say that you are just as much a war hero as I am. So I suppose we should both be proud, shouldn't we?"
"I suppose we should." His face fell on that remark.
"Too many lives lost to celebrate that fact, though."
"Too true."
"So, about you."
"What about me?" His eyes narrowed with suspicion.
"I think what you did today was very nice."
"We shall never speak of it again. I have my reputation to protect, after all."
Harry snorted. "I thought today was all about moving forward. What good would saving your past reputation do?"
"Point taken. So, about dinner?"
"Why don't we get out of here?"
"Works for me."
The next few weeks carried on much the same as they had for the past two, only it was just the two of them at the house now. They settled into a routine, neither one of them rushing out to find employment.
One late afternoon, Draco came into the house, settled onto the sofa in the sitting room, and dragged his hands through his hair. "It doesn't look like I'll be getting the manor back any time soon."
"I'm sorry to hear that. I would imagine that a place rich with your family history would be a difficult thing to lose. I know I couldn't give up without a fight."
"Don't you think I am fighting this?" Draco snapped back.
"Of course you are. I didn't mean you weren't --"
"Sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. It's just that this is so frustrating!"
"Why don't you tell me about it?"
"About what? What the Ministry is saying?"
"That too, I suppose. But what I meant was the manor. What was it like living there? What was your childhood like? You know, for the length of time we've known each other, I know surprisingly little about you."
"You know I'm the son of a Death Eater."
"I don't care about that, and you know it. You aren't Lucius. Just like I'm not my father, no matter how much I might look like him."
"We are a pair, aren't we?"
"Why do you say that?"
"I suspect we have more in common that we think."
"Oh really? So do tell. What do we have in common?"
"We are both only children, who really didn't get much of a childhood. We both got thrown into the fray without much of a choice, yet we made some difficult choices when we had to. And, on a lighter note, we both love Quidditch, and you have to admit we're both amazing Seekers."
"Agreed. But you're great at Potions and Arithmancy, and I'm pants at both of those."
"But you're excellent at Transfiguration and Defence, which are certainly not my areas of strength."
"So we compliment each other."
"Yes, I suppose we do."
"So, tell me all about what makes Draco Malfoy tick."
"Not much to tell really. I suppose I spent my childhood trying to emulate and impress my father, and keep my mother happy. I think just about every decision I made was done with great care and forethought. I always planned ahead, looked to the future, and never ever questioned my father's word. Money and power were everything, and I was treated with respect wherever I went. Or at least I thought it was respect at the time. Then, as I was preparing to go to Hogwarts, I met this ridiculous child with out-of-control hair, huge clothes, and a nasty scar on his forehead. My life was never the same again."
"Oh, come on. I was never that important."
"You'd be surprised, Harry. You were the first person that ever snubbed me, and I'll never forget it."
"I suppose you're going to tell me that's why you made my life hell for so long."
"Actually, it is."
"Oh, and I suppose it had nothing to do with Voldemort and your father."
"Actually, it had very little to do with them. You hurt me terribly that day on the train. I had offered you a hand in friendship, and you turned me away. You chose the weasel over me, and I didn't know what to make of it. I swear it shook me to the core. Don't laugh, Harry, I'm serious. I had always been taught that money and power were everything, yet here I was offering you a hand, and neither my name nor all the money in the world seemed to matter to you. I was nothing to you, and you made sure I knew it. To an eleven-year-old boy, that was a hard thing to take."
Harry was dumbfounded. "I had no idea."
"You were eleven years old. Of course you had no idea."
"I'm so sorry, Draco."
"So why didn't you?" Draco asked, his voice a mixture of curiosity and perhaps a bit of sadness. "Why didn't you accept my offer of friendship?"
"Well, I had just found out I was a wizard. I had no friends, and nobody had ever really been nice to me as far back as I could remember. Along came Hagrid, and he was nice - really nice - to me. He took me to Diagon Alley, where I met you. You started talking about Hogwarts, and the houses, and purebloods and Muggles, and what you said reminded me of my bully of a cousin and how he is. When Hagrid came back, you insulted him, the first and only person I ever remember being nice to me. Then, the day on the train, you insulted Ron, whom I considered to be a potential friend to me at the time - my first friend ever. That's why I rejected your hand."
"Oh." Disappointment echoed the word.
"Yes, well, you were eleven."
"And a prat, by the sound of it."
"And most definitely a prat," Harry agreed, but his voice held no malice.
"And you are apologizing to me why?"
"Because I had no idea why you were being the way you were, and I never even gave you a chance. Perhaps the end result would have been the same, but knowing you the way I do now, I'd like to think not. We might not have wasted all those years hating each other."
"But it sounds like maybe I'm the one who should apologize."
"Not to me. Besides, when I play back many of the times in school you and Ron got into fights, I'd venture a guess that he started them at least as many times as you did. And, if I'm not mistaken, I'm pretty sure he gave as good as he got, and he was consistently less likely to back down than you."
"I never backed down from a fight with the weasel," he said defiantly.
Harry chuckled. "No, you didn't. But you were less likely to carry on fights to the lengths that Ron was. In other words, of the two of you, he may actually be the more likely to start with the insults, and carry them on indefinitely."
"If you say so," muttered Draco.
"That isn't an insult to you, by the way. In fact, it's the opposite."
"Oh." This time there was no disappointment accompanying the word.
"Anyway, we're friends now, so we can look ahead instead of back, yeah?"
"Sure Harry."
================
Over the next few weeks, they spent much of their time talking. They had settled into a routine, and every evening after dinner, they sat by the fire and talked about their pasts, their lives. In short, they did what they hadn't bothered doing years before -- they got to know one another.
Harry learned that Draco's childhood had been anything but the charmed life he had imagined the Malfoy heir to have had. Of course, had he really thought about it, he would have realized that having Lucius Malfoy as a father couldn't have been easy. Harry felt more than a little guilty that he had presumed a life with parents -- no matter who those parents were -- had to be better than a life with none. God, am I really that self-absorbed? He sure hoped not.
Sure, Draco had had all the material things a child could ever want and then some, but what he really wanted was his father's love. Unfortunately, the concept of love seemed to have escaped Lucius Malfoy. While Narcissa loved Draco, it still wasn't the same. Even though Harry knew that it had been difficult for Draco, he was secretly glad that his father had died during the war, no longer able to hurt his son. And he was far more glad that it wasn't at his own hand, but at Voldemort's.
Draco too had discovered that his impression of Harry's childhood -- absent parents notwithstanding -- had been far from reality. Of course, Lucius had always told him that Harry had had a charmed life, a sheltered life, and Draco had believed him. But once he was at Hogwarts, and had heard some of the rumours about Harry's upbringing, he had steadfastly refused to entertain any scenarios besides that which his father had painted as the picture of Harry's life before Hogwarts. God, am I really that obstinate? He made a promise to himself not to be like that in the future.
He learned that Harry had lived in a cupboard under the stairs for ten years before attending Hogwarts. He had been abused, ignored, and basically treated like a cross between trash and a house-elf. Harry was secretly pleased at how indignant Draco was on his behalf. In fact, Draco had threatened to go off and throw a few Unforgivables at the Dursleys for good measure, but Harry rightly pointed out that it wouldn’t do him any good to spend the rest of his life in Azkaban. His sorry excuse for a family wasn't worth it. Harry suspected, however, that Draco wasn’t through with that plan.
==================================
A week later, Ron dropped in for a visit. “So, what’s Malfoy going to do now?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, now that the war’s over, we don’t need him around any more.”
“What are you talking about, Ron?”
“I know he doesn’t have a home to go to any more, but surely he’s got enough money left to get a place of his own. And I don't buy into any of that rot he was spewing at me when 'Mione and I left. So when are you kicking him to the curb?”
“What?!?”
“When. Are. You. Telling. Him. To. Move. Out?”
"I'm not. He's welcome to stay. He can consider this his home as long as he wants."
"What?!? Are you mental, Harry? When has he ever done anything for anyone but himself. Even during the war, he only came to our side because he knew it was the winning side. He's nothing but a --"
"Stop right there! You don't know him, and I'd thank you to stop insulting him. I consider him a friend now, regardless of what your opinion is. This subject is closed. It's been nice seeing you Ron, but I really have some things to be getting on with. You can see yourself out, yeah?" He brushed by a stunned Draco, who had been standing in the hallway, on his way out the door.
====================
Later that day, Harry entered the study, where Draco was sitting by the fire, with a Prophet in his hand, looking for a place to live. Facing his future.
When Draco didn't respond to his greeting, Harry asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Well, it’s all over now, isn’t it? We've had months of Voldemort-free living, and it's been ages since everyone else moved out. I suppose now is as good a time as any to move on with our lives.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Look, Potter, I appreciate you letting me stay here, but it's obvious the Ministry has no intention of handing over my family home any time soon. I'd best be getting on with finding alternate accommodation.”
“Did you just call me Potter?”
“Um … “ Draco stammered. “Well, yes. It is your name, after all,” he recovered with his usual sarcasm.
“I don’t believe this!” And for the second time that day, Harry stormed out of the house.
=====================
He returned several hours later to find Draco at the kitchen table, the Daily Prophet in front of him with several ads circled, looking sullen.
"Draco, obviously you overheard my conversation with Ron earlier today." He nodded his response. "Look, you and Ron have never got on, right?"
The laugh Harry received was dripping with contempt. "There's an understatement."
"But you and I are friends now, right?"
"Yes," he replied tentatively.
"Well then, what would make you think that I would throw a friend out on the street, based on the words of someone I know despises him?"
"Well, I wouldn't exactly be 'out on the street' as you so eloquently put it."
"That's not the point! I wouldn't ask you to leave, just because Ron said to!"
"All the more reason for me to leave."
"What?!"
"As you said, Harry, you will not ask me to leave. It's better that I do it myself. The weasel did have a point, you know. I certainly have the money to find a place of my own. I don't need to stay here."
"Fine then." Harry went to leave the room, but stopped at the doorway. Without turning around, he asked, "Is that what you want? Do you want to leave?"
Draco fidgeted in his seat before answering. "I don't want to come between you and your friends, Harry. You've already done so much for me."
"You are my friend too, Draco. Probably my closest friend right now, if I'm truthful about it. And we have done so much for each other. It's been a two-way street, and I intend for it to stay that way." He looked at Draco, whose expression was unreadable. "So, you didn't answer me. Do you want to leave?"
"Well, not really, but --"
"Then stay," he said as he turned around. "I ... well ... I don't want you to go. I've got quite used to you being here, and it's ... nice having you around."
"My God, Potter. Did you just admit that it's nice to have me around?"
"Yes, well --"
"And the ground didn't swallow you up. Will wonders never cease?" he teased. Smiling, he continued. "Are you sure about this, Harry? I don't want you doing something you don't want to do, even if it will piss off the weasel."
"I'm very sure. I enjoy your company, and I honestly don't know what I'd do with myself, living here alone. In other words, I'd miss you. Besides, how long can they keep the manor from you? Eventually you'll have your family home back, and all will be right with the world." Even as the words came out of his mouth, Harry couldn't help but be saddened by them. Sure, he wanted Draco to have his home back, but the selfish part of him rather hoped he could stay with Harry. What does THAT mean?
"Oh, don't be surprised if they keep it for a very long time. Possibly years, in fact. Are you sure you don't want to retract the offer now, before it's too late?"
Harry smiled at the thought of having Draco there for years. "I'm sure. You can stay here for as long as you want. In fact, I insist."
"Well, if you insist, I suppose I can't say no to the Saviour of the Wizarding World. After all, what would people think?"
"Oh, shut it, Malfoy!"
====================================
A few days later, Harry opened the door to find Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini on the other side. "We're here to visit Draco," Blaise offered. "He knew we were coming, but he said we had to come to the door, because your Floo has been shut off."
"Yeah, it has. With it being Headquarters, too many people knew the connection, so we need to set up some proper wards to restrict access, but I haven't got around to it yet. Come on in," he said as he moved aside and waved them in. "Draco will be down in a couple minutes. Can I get you something to drink? Tea? A butterbeer perhaps?"
Both of them looked at Harry in a stunned fashion. "What?" he asked.
"Well --" Blaise began.
"You're being nice to us," Pansy finished. "I mean, we've never got on, and we're not friends."
"No, I suppose that's true. But you're Draco's friends, and you're guests in my home, so why shouldn't I be polite? Now, what can I get you?"
"Tea," Blaise answered, and as an afterthought, "please."
"Yes. Tea would be lovely, thanks," replied Pansy.
"Well, make yourselves at home," he said, guiding them into the sitting room, and venturing off to the kitchen to make tea. He could hear their voices mumbling something as he walked away, but he couldn't make out the words.
===============
Draco came down the stairs, and entered the sitting room. "Oh, you're here. I thought I heard someone at the door. It's great to see you."
"You too," they both said, as Draco hugged Pansy and shook Blaise's hand.
"So, what can I get you to drink?" he offered.
"Potter's already getting us tea," Blaise said.
"Okay then. I'll just go give Harry a hand, and maybe put some cakes out for us as well. Be right back."
================
"Thanks Harry," he said as he entered the kitchen. "You really don't have to do that."
"I know, but it's no bother. Besides, they're your guests. You grab the cakes, and I'll bring this out."
Harry carried the tray of tea out to the sitting room. "Well, I'll leave you to it then," he said as he placed the tray on the table, and Draco brought in the cakes.
"Why?" Pansy asked.
"You don't have to leave on our account," offered Blaise.
"Yes I do. The three of you have some catching up to do, and I will get out of your way so you can have some privacy. Besides, I've already planned to meet up with a friend in Hogsmeade."
"Well, alright then."
"Draco, do you need anything while I'm there? I'll probably stop in at the shops."
"Hogsmeade, eh?"
"Yes, I'll stop at Honeydukes." He rolled his eyes. "Shall I get you your usual chocolate fix then?"
"Mm, please."
"Right then. I'm off. Enjoy your visit." As he exited the house, he called over his shoulder, "Nice to see the two of you again."
====================
Blaise and Pansy exchanged looks, and then focussed on Draco, who was busy adding milk to his tea. "What?" he asked, feeling their stares, and noticing the silence.
"So how long have the two of you --"
"When did you start --"
"What the hell are you two talking about? Two of who? Start what?"
"Go on then, Blaise. You ask him."
"So since when have you and Potter been shagging?"
Draco nearly choked on his tea. As soon as his coughing subsided, and he regained his voice, he gave them both a shocked look. "I'm sure I have no idea what you two are talking about."
"Oh, come now, Draco. You can't honestly think we didn't notice."
"Notice what?" he asked, feeling quite astonished at what they were saying.
"The way you look at each other."
"And how comfortable you are with each other."
"And the fact that he knows that Honeydukes is your favourite chocolate."
"And if all that wasn't enough, he was NICE to us!"
"He made us tea, for Merlin's sake!"
"Stop it!" Draco finally managed to say, his head reeling from their words. "We live together. Oh, that's not what I mean, Blaise," he said as his friend smirked and raised his eyebrows at him. "We live under the same roof, and have for some time now. And for the past several months, it's been just the two of us here. So naturally we are comfortable with one another. And every time I've gone to Hogsmeade, I've come back with chocolate, so of course he knows that it's my favourite. I've probably mentioned it a dozen times. And as for making you tea, you are a guest in his home. Of course he would offer to get you some refreshments. He may have been raised by Muggles, but he's not a complete stranger to entertaining guests."
Pansy just smirked at him. "You forgot how you look at each other."
"What?!"
"Yeah, Draco. What's with the puppy dog eyes you gave him earlier?"
"I did not ... I don't ... what the hell are you talking about?"
His two friends nearly collapsed from laughter. "Okay mate, I was having you on about the 'puppy dog eyes,' but the two of you do look quite cosy. You should see yourselves. I don't think it would have been much more of a shock to me if he'd given you a kiss goodbye before leaving."
"Again I have to ask, what are you on about? We are friends. Yes, there ... I've said it. Hell has officially frozen over. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are friends. But that is all we are. Honestly, I can't believe the two of you!"
"Methinks he doth protest too much," Pansy chuckled.
"Methinks you are right, fair lady," Blaise added with a bow.
"Methinks you have both gone right 'round the twist," said Draco. "And stop quoting Muggle literature at me!"
They agreed to disagree, and spent the rest of the afternoon catching up, making arrangements for them to come back for dinner in a few weeks' time. As they said their goodbyes, Pansy said, "Tell your boyfriend goodbye from us and thanks for the tea!"
"And tell him if he breaks your heart, he'll have me to deal with," Blaise added, chuckling all the way down the path towards a safe Apparition point.
"He's not my boyfriend!" he yelled after them, not caring if anyone heard him.
"Whatever you say, Draco," was all he heard as they turned the corner.
==================
Meanwhile, Harry had met up with Hagrid at the Three Broomsticks, and they had spent the last couple hours catching up on the goings on in each other's lives. Out of the blue, Hagrid put down his drink noisily on the table. "So, you and -- er -- Malfoy. How long have you two, you know?"
"What?"
"Well, you know, 'arry. How long have you been ... er ... t'gether?"
"Together? What do you mean, together?"
"T'gether, a couple. So when did you two, y'know?"
"No, Hagrid, I don't know. What are you talking about? Draco and I are friends. Yes, I know, that's a bit of a shocker, but once you get to know him, he's really not all that bad."
"I know. You've already said. Several times, in fact."
"What?"
"You've been talkin' 'bout Malfoy non-stop since you got here, 'arry. It's been Draco this and Draco that, and you've got this starry-eyed look on your face when you're talkin' 'bout 'im, and I dunno. I s'pose I just figured there was summat more to it than you were sayin', is all."
"Well there isn't."
"If you say so."
"I do say so."
"Alrigh' then."
"Good. Can we talk about something else, then?"
"Sure. What're you an' Draco doin' for dinner tonight, then?"
"Well, we were --" Harry stopped as he saw the smirk on Hagrid's face.
"Sorry, 'arry, I couldn't resist. Y'know, you oughta take a good look at yerself when yer talkin' on about 'im. You look positively smitten."
"Shut up," Harry said, feeling a blush engulfing his face, despite his efforts not to react to what Hagrid was saying.
"Okay. I'll leave you be 'bout it."
They had a nice visit, and as they parted ways outside Honeydukes, Harry gave his friend a hug goodbye. "I'll see you soon, Hagrid."
"Three weeks, your place for dinner. I'll be there." As he was walking away, he turned back and called over his shoulder. "You know, you should get Malfoy some flowers to go with that chocolate."
==========================
As he waited for Harry to return, Draco sat wondering about what his friends had said. Did he like Harry that way? Did Harry like him back? A bigger question - was Harry even gay? Draco had always thought he was straight. Truthfully, he hadn't really given Harry's sexual orientation much thought before. This was silly. They were friends, and that was all. Blaise and Pansy just had vivid imaginations.
==========================
As Harry made his way around Hogsmeade, and picked up a few essentials for the house, he thought back to what Hagrid had said. Was Harry really going on about Draco? He was virtually the only person Harry had had contact with for the past few months, what with Ron and Hermione looking for a house, and his other friends busy looking for work or starting new jobs. It was only natural to talk about the person you spent most of your time with, wasn't it? It didn't mean anything more than that, right? Besides, was Malfoy even gay? And Hagrid wasn't exactly the most perceptive person he knew. Harry shook his head, sure that Hagrid was reading too far into things.
============================
When Harry arrived home, he saw Draco looking contemplative in the sitting room, apparently unaware that he had arrived.
"A sickle for your thoughts," Harry said.
Draco nearly jumped out of the chair. "Harry! I didn't see you come in."
"Apparently," he laughed. "What were you thinking about that had you so deep in thought that you didn't hear the front door?"
Draco blushed, and said, "Oh, nothing."
"Alright then. So when did Pansy and Blaise leave?"
"Oh, just a little while ago, actually. Fifteen minutes sooner, and you would have seen them."
"Well, then, good timing on my part."
"They're not that bad," Draco grumbled.
"No, no, that's not what I meant. I just wanted to give you space, so the three of you could catch up, so I'm glad I didn't interrupt. I think they were probably glad too. I think that I shocked them enough for one day just making tea."
Draco smiled at that remark. "Yes, that certainly surprised them. Among other things."
"What other things?"
"Nothing. Never mind. How was your visit to Hogsmeade?"
"I got your favourite chocolates."
"What, no flowers?" Draco asked, immediately regretting it. He felt his own face redden, as he watched Harry's turn pink.
"Um ... er ... I'll go put these things away then."
"I'll make some tea then, shall I?" Draco said, following him into the kitchen. As he busied himself preparing the tea, he was suddenly aware of the other man's proximity and how fit Harry was, as he watched him putting away the groceries. His clothing, thankfully things that fit him properly these days, hung just right off his slim frame, and accentuated all the right parts. He let out a sigh.
"Did you say something?" Harry asked.
"No, nothing. Nothing at all."
"Okay then. What did you want to do for dinner tonight?"
"Doesn't matter. You?"
"I thought we might get some take-away. Maybe from that new place around the corner you like so much?"
"Sounds good," he said, inexplicably pleased that Harry knew what he liked. Could Pansy and Blaise be onto something?
As they sat at the kitchen table eating their dinner, each was watching the other, thinking about their strange encounters with their friends that afternoon.
Harry noticed how Draco's features had softened over the years. His fair skin was complemented by his pink lips and grey eyes, forming a very attractive face. His almost white hair was no longer slicked back, and Harry had to suppress the urge to run his hands through it to see if it was really as soft as it looked. Where did that thought come from? The clothing he chose, always the best money could buy, really worked with his colouring, and Harry could appreciate just how incredibly striking his former enemy, now friend, really was.
"Do I have sauce dripping down my face?" Draco asked.
"What? No."
"You're staring, Harry."
"Sorry. Just lost in thought, I guess."
"Oh."
Now it was Draco's turn to stare. He took in Harry's tanned skin, his shoulders that had filled out very well since school, and his incredibly messy hair -- all of which formed a very sexy package. Whoa! That was unexpected. As he watched Harry's tongue dart out of his mouth just a little bit to meet the fork each time he put it in his mouth, Draco thought of all the wonderful things he would like that tongue to do.
"Draco?" Harry interrupted his musings just when things were getting good.
"Mm?"
"Now you're staring. What gives?"
Well, he might as well just tell him. "I was just thinking about something Blaise and Pansy said when they were here earlier."
"What's that?"
"They asked how long we'd been shagging."
Harry began to cough as he choked on his food. "Give a guy some warning next time," he admonished after catching his breath.
Draco smiled. "Sorry about that. Funny, but I had the same reaction, only it was tea I choked on."
Harry returned his smile, his cheeks flushed. Draco wasn't sure if it was from what he had said, or his choking fit. "So what did you tell them?" Harry asked.
"I told them it's only been a couple weeks."
"You what?!"
"Kidding. Relax, I told them we're just friends."
"And what did they say?"
"Oh, they went on about how comfortable we seem with each other, and other such rot. Of course, I explained that we live together, so of course we got to know each other better, and that you're straight anyway."
"Interesting."
"What's so interesting?"
"Well, I'm not. But besides that, I had a similar conversation with Hagrid."
"What do you mean, you're not?"
"I mean I'm not straight. But I find it fascinating that Hagrid asked me how long we'd been together too."
"What did he base that on? And since when are you gay?"
"Since always, I suppose, but I figured it out in our last year at school. And Hagrid said that I wouldn't stop talking about you, and ..." His voice trailed off, as he realized just what it had been that Hagrid said. He didn't much feel like telling Draco that he apparently got all starry-eyed when talking about him. Besides, he didn't believe it anyway.
"And what?"
"Oh, nothing. Just that it sounds like we do a lot together."
"And why would that make him jump to any such conclusions?"
"Oh, I dunno. Who knows why Hagrid thinks the way he does?"
"Harry?" Draco got up and walked over to where Harry was sitting.
"Yes?" He looked up at Draco questioningly.
"Perhaps there's something to what they were saying."
"You think?"
"Perhaps. Should we test that theory?"
"How do you suggest we do that?" he asked, thinking back to what Blaise and Pansy had said to Draco earlier.
"I think I'd like to kiss you."
"Oh."
"Is that alright with you, Harry?"
"Sure. In fact, I think I'd like that very much."
"I was hoping you'd say that."
Harry stood up, and they looked into each other's eyes. They stood like that for the longest time, before Harry broke the silence. "Change your mind?" he whispered.
"Not a chance," Draco said as he brought his hand up to Harry's face, cupping his chin, and running his thumb along his cheek. He leaned in, and his lips brushed Harry's so softly, it was like the feel of the sun over damp skin on a hot summer's day. Harry leaned in closer, and pressed their lips together tentatively. Draco's tongue darted out softly to lick Harry's lower lip, before pulling it gently into his mouth. He grazed the lip slightly with his teeth, and as Harry uttered a moan, he slid his tongue into the other man's mouth. As Harry's tongue reached out to meet his, a jolt like an electrical impulse surged through Draco's body, filling him with a sudden warmth, causing him to groan with pleasure.
As the kiss deepened, their tongues explored each other's mouths with abandon, at first fighting for dominance, but quickly settling into an unhurried rhythm. This kiss was unlike any Harry had experienced before. It was perfect and hot and God, it felt so right.
Harry's one hand reached up, and he ran his fingers through that hair which was, indeed, as soft as it looked. His other hand rested on the small of Draco's back, pulling and then holding the blonde's body up against his own. He let out an involuntary gasp just as their bodies connected.
Draco rested one hand on Harry's hip, while the other was at the back of his neck, holding on as though to ensure the kiss didn't end too quickly. There was no need to worry about that, as neither one of them was in any hurry to stop what they had started. Their lips, tongues and teeth continued to work their magic, while their bodies were pressed together, hips moving in unison.
When they finally broke apart, their breathing was ragged, both of them flushed, panting, and visibly aroused. Harry was the first to speak. "Remind me to thank Pansy and Blaise."
"Will do," Draco nodded. "I suppose I should thank Hagrid too."
Harry growled as he pulled Draco into his arms for another searing kiss, "Later."
hpslashnotsmut. I did two, so I'll post one today, and one tomorrow. So, without further adieu, below is the uber-fluffy fic I did for
lire_casander:
Title: A Little Nudge in the Right Direction
Author:
sesheta_66
Giftee:
lire_casander
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 7814
Author's Note: Pairings desired were Harry/Draco, Harry/Snape, Draco/Neville. I scooped the first pairing on the list, and did Harry/Draco. The request was for "Fluff, lots of fluff please. A kiss. A conversation about their feelings." I hope this covers everything you wanted (no sad ending here), and I really hope you enjoy it!
Author's Note 2: Thanks so very much to my beta
confiteor_3 who is absolutely awesome! All remaining mistakes are mine.
Disclaimer: Much to my dismay, the HP world and all its characters belong to JKR and her publishers. No money is being made. It is all in fun.
Summary: The war has ended, Voldemort is now dead, and people are getting on with their lives. The story begins as almost everyone has moved out of Grimmauld Place.
It had been weeks since the war had ended, Voldemort had perished, most of the remaining Death Eaters had been rounded up, and Harry had been hailed as the official Saviour of the Wizarding World. Gradually, the inhabitants of 12 Grimmauld Place had packed up their things and left, to return to their lives.
Harry's home was no longer the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, so no more meetings were taking place. There was no more traffic running through the house. There were no more unexpected visitors. All in all, Harry should have been happy, but he wasn't. In fact, he was decidedly unhappy. He couldn't explain it, really, because he should be happy, right? He had done what was expected of him, and now he could get on with his life. No -- he could actually have a life now. But what would that life be?
When he thought about it, he realized that he hadn't really thought past the end of the war. Sure, his grand life plan included being an Auror, but he wasn't even sure he wanted that any more. While he had always hated the labels people put on him - the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, the Hero, and now the Saviour - he had to admit that they had defined him in a way. And now, without a label to define his next move in life, what was he really? Who was Harry Potter?
He was a Gryffindor, but he wasn't in school any more, so what did that matter? He was a wizard, but that hardly did much to help him with his next move. He had friends, but they seemed to be going on with their lives. He was at a loss.
The only people left in the house with him now were Ron, Hermione, and of all people, Draco Malfoy. Ron and Hermione were upstairs packing to leave - they had agreed to stay for a while to help restore the place to once more being a home. Well, that's not true. It had never really been much of a home, but they tried to make it feel less like the Headquarters it had been.
Malfoy was currently homeless. It wasn't nearly as bad as it sounded, since he still had plenty of money, but his family home had been seized by the Ministry, and there was no sign that it would be released to him any time soon, if ever. So he had nowhere to go right now. Strange, but Harry found the idea of having someone -- anyone, really -- living in the house with him comforting. That the someone was Draco Malfoy, well, really, what did it matter? He had, after all, fought for the right side in the end, and he and Harry had reached an understanding of sorts. They were civil, if not polite, and they were able to coexist. It was a big house. Harry was pretty sure it could work out, at least short-term.
"Well mate," called Ron. "We're about ready to head out. Anything else you need before we go? Help moving furniture? Banishing any stubborn beasts? Kicking Malfoy to the curb?"
"Ha ha, very funny Weaselby," came Malfoy's voice as he entered the kitchen. "Granger, might I have a word?"
"Um ... uh, sure," she said, looking rather confused. "I'll be right back," she said to Ron as she followed Malfoy into the front room.
"What's that about?" Ron asked.
"No idea," Harry answered truthfully.
========================
"What do you want, Malfoy?" Hermione hastened to ask.
"I want to talk to you before you leave. I've been thinking a lot lately about things I've done, and well ... " His words drifted off, as he tried to put together what he knew he had to say.
"What is it?" Hermione asked with genuine curiosity.
"Hermione -- is it okay if I call you Hermione?" he asked. She nodded in response. "Right then. Hermione, I want to apologize to you. I was raised a certain way, to believe certain things." Her eyes narrowed. "Now before you jump to any conclusions, I'm not using that as an excuse. I just need to say that I was raised to believe in the superiority of purebloods, and my actions followed that line of thinking. But I take full responsibility for any pain I may have caused you through the years, as a result of that. I won't apologize for every little thing I've ever said or done, but I do want to apologize for any time I called you Mudblood. It was hurtful and cruel, and definitely undeserved."
She was gaping at him, eyes wide, a shocked look on her face.
"Yes, well, you may close your mouth. It does nothing for your appearance. Anyway, you didn't deserve to be treated that way, by me or anyone else. And for my part in that, I am sorry. I know we will probably never be friends, but I don't want to part with you on bad terms. You really are a brilliant witch, and I'm sure you'll go far. Of course, I think you deserve better than the weasel, but that's your own decision to make."
He smiled at her, and to his surprise, she smiled back. "I accept your apology, Draco." She reached out her hand, and he gladly took it. "We might not ever be friends, as you say, but I think this is as close to a fresh start as we can get."
"Thank you."
================================
Harry watched his best friend and his - what was he now, his roommate? - enter the kitchen, both smiling. That was odd. He gave both of them a quizzical look, but received nothing except a smile from Hermione and a shrug from Draco.
"Oi! What was that about?" Ron asked, always the subtle one.
"Nothing, Ron. We can talk about it when we get home."
He narrowed his eyes at Draco, looking as though he could stare the truth out of him. Draco just laughed. "Relax, Weaselby, I didn't do anything to your girlfriend. We just had a friendly chat."
"Friendly, my arse."
"Actually, it was friendly, Ronald," Hermione corrected her boyfriend. "You might want to try it sometime."
Ron looked positively gobsmacked, which garnered a chuckle from Malfoy. "Friendly? With ferret boy? I don't think so!"
"Well, how about civil, then?" Malfoy offered, extending his hand. Harry wondered suddenly if this were some sort of practical joke, but when he looked into Malfoy's face, all he saw there was sincerity.
Ron looked from Malfoy's face to his offered hand, and back up to his face. "Is this some kind of joke?" he asked, echoing Harry's own thoughts of a moment before.
"No joke, weasel. I figure the war is over, and life is short. We have spent the past how many years hating each other? We've carried on family bitterness and animosity for long enough. I have never been nice to you, nor have you been nice to me. I know for a fact we will never be friends, and I don't imagine you would want to be, even if I did. But surely we can start treating each other with some sort of mutual respect, as fellow wizards, if nothing else. I'm not offering friendship, just less anger. It truly is very tiring, don't you think?"
Hermione burst into laughter at the look of utter disbelief on Ron's face. Harry was suppressing his own laughter, in order to better hear Ron's response.
"I'll have to think about it," Ron said, not taking Malfoy's hand.
Harry caught Malfoy look from his own hand to Harry's face, and let his arm drop to his side. "Fair enough," Draco agreed. "I guess that's more than I expected really."
"Right, then. Harry, we're off. Floo us if there's anything you need."
"Yes Harry, anything at all. You can reach us at the Burrow for the next while, until we are able to get our own place set up." She gave Harry a big hug, then turned to Malfoy, who held out his hand to her. She pushed it aside, earning a puzzled look from the blonde, then wrapped her arms around him in a gentle hug. Harry grinned as he saw the look of almost fright on Malfoy's face. "Goodbye, Draco."
As his two best friends left, Harry could hear Ron asking, "What's this Draco business? Since when do you call him ... "
"So, what shall we have for dinner, then?" Draco asked after they had left.
"Oh, no you don't. You are so not getting out of this conversation so easily."
"What conversation?" he asked, the picture of innocence.
"Oh puh-lease! You have loathed the both of them for years. What just happened?"
"Nothing, really."
"THAT was not nothing. Hermione hugged you, for Merlin's sake!"
"Yes, well, that was rather unexpected." Harry chuckled at the look of discomfort that came over Malfoy just then.
"And what was that business you were saying to Ron?"
"Here's the thing, Harry. I'm tired. Tired of fighting. Aren't you tired?"
"Tired, yes. But the war is over. What does that have to do with anything?" he asked. Then, as an afterthought, he added, "Did you just call me Harry?"
"Yes I did. You don't mind, do you? We've known each other for so long, and it just seems petty to me that we continue to address each other by our surnames. It speaks to me of the past, and how we felt about each other back then. We don't hate each other now, do we?"
"Of course not."
"Well, then, why not call me Draco? I'm pretty sure it won't cause you any permanent damage."
"Fine, Draco." Harry found it strange to be addressing him this way out loud. But he had to admit that he had been thinking of the man before him less as Malfoy lately, and more as Draco. The name Malfoy was reserved in his mind for the memory of Lucius Malfoy, and his son was much less like him than he used to be -- or than Harry had imagined him to be anyway. He just hadn't ever said the name Draco out loud before.
"There now, that didn't hurt, did it?" he asked with his familiar smirk in place.
Harry smiled and shook his head. "No it didn't ... Draco."
"Now, you were asking me something?"
"As if you had forgotten." Harry rolled his eyes as he said that.
"Here's the thing. I believe what I told Weaselby. Life is too short to spend it angry. It is very tiring coming up with insults, and keeping up barriers to protect against those thrown back. I just don't think I have the energy anymore, Harry."
"Not even with Ron?"
"Not even with the weasel."
"And Hermione?"
"The weasel and I have hated each other for as long as I can remember. Our families never got on, and we will never be friends. Hermione is different. She did nothing to me. All she did was have Muggle parents. I apologized to her for the way I treated her all these years. I explained that I was raised that way, but that I accept responsibility for my own actions, and that I am truly sorry for any pain that I caused her. That's all."
"That's all?" Harry asked in amazement. "But that's huge! What did she say?"
"Nothing. She just stared at me with her mouth open. It was a distasteful reaction, really." Harry chuckled at that comment.
"Well, we mustn't do anything distasteful, of course."
"Naturally, Potter. Etiquette must be observed."
"Oh, are we back to Potter now?"
"Only when you're being plebeian."
"Plebeian, am I?"
"Most definitely."
"Ah, but you love me anyway!"
"Don't we all, oh great Saviour of the Wizarding World."
"Well, you know ... I did what I could," Harry replied, bowing his head and shuffling his feet in a sad attempt to look humble and abashed.
Draco let out a hearty laugh at that. "You know, Harry, I don't think I've ever seen you not tense up when someone called you that before."
"Yeah, well, I know you don't think of me that way, so I knew you were joking."
"I do appreciate what you did for all of us, though."
"Oh brother, don't you start now! My only constant in life is knowing that I've got you and Snape to keep my feet planted firmly on the ground. If you of all people start to worship me, I may have to rise to the occasion."
"And how exactly would you rise to the occasion, Harry?"
"I may have to hire minions to follow me around for starters."
"Oh, yes, I can totally see that," he said with his usual dose of sarcasm. "But no worries, there. I have no intention of 'worshipping' you. I only meant that you should be proud of everything you did. You really are a war hero. You just don't happen to be the only one."
"Don't I know it? In fact, Mr Malfoy, I'd have to say that you are just as much a war hero as I am. So I suppose we should both be proud, shouldn't we?"
"I suppose we should." His face fell on that remark.
"Too many lives lost to celebrate that fact, though."
"Too true."
"So, about you."
"What about me?" His eyes narrowed with suspicion.
"I think what you did today was very nice."
"We shall never speak of it again. I have my reputation to protect, after all."
Harry snorted. "I thought today was all about moving forward. What good would saving your past reputation do?"
"Point taken. So, about dinner?"
"Why don't we get out of here?"
"Works for me."
The next few weeks carried on much the same as they had for the past two, only it was just the two of them at the house now. They settled into a routine, neither one of them rushing out to find employment.
One late afternoon, Draco came into the house, settled onto the sofa in the sitting room, and dragged his hands through his hair. "It doesn't look like I'll be getting the manor back any time soon."
"I'm sorry to hear that. I would imagine that a place rich with your family history would be a difficult thing to lose. I know I couldn't give up without a fight."
"Don't you think I am fighting this?" Draco snapped back.
"Of course you are. I didn't mean you weren't --"
"Sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. It's just that this is so frustrating!"
"Why don't you tell me about it?"
"About what? What the Ministry is saying?"
"That too, I suppose. But what I meant was the manor. What was it like living there? What was your childhood like? You know, for the length of time we've known each other, I know surprisingly little about you."
"You know I'm the son of a Death Eater."
"I don't care about that, and you know it. You aren't Lucius. Just like I'm not my father, no matter how much I might look like him."
"We are a pair, aren't we?"
"Why do you say that?"
"I suspect we have more in common that we think."
"Oh really? So do tell. What do we have in common?"
"We are both only children, who really didn't get much of a childhood. We both got thrown into the fray without much of a choice, yet we made some difficult choices when we had to. And, on a lighter note, we both love Quidditch, and you have to admit we're both amazing Seekers."
"Agreed. But you're great at Potions and Arithmancy, and I'm pants at both of those."
"But you're excellent at Transfiguration and Defence, which are certainly not my areas of strength."
"So we compliment each other."
"Yes, I suppose we do."
"So, tell me all about what makes Draco Malfoy tick."
"Not much to tell really. I suppose I spent my childhood trying to emulate and impress my father, and keep my mother happy. I think just about every decision I made was done with great care and forethought. I always planned ahead, looked to the future, and never ever questioned my father's word. Money and power were everything, and I was treated with respect wherever I went. Or at least I thought it was respect at the time. Then, as I was preparing to go to Hogwarts, I met this ridiculous child with out-of-control hair, huge clothes, and a nasty scar on his forehead. My life was never the same again."
"Oh, come on. I was never that important."
"You'd be surprised, Harry. You were the first person that ever snubbed me, and I'll never forget it."
"I suppose you're going to tell me that's why you made my life hell for so long."
"Actually, it is."
"Oh, and I suppose it had nothing to do with Voldemort and your father."
"Actually, it had very little to do with them. You hurt me terribly that day on the train. I had offered you a hand in friendship, and you turned me away. You chose the weasel over me, and I didn't know what to make of it. I swear it shook me to the core. Don't laugh, Harry, I'm serious. I had always been taught that money and power were everything, yet here I was offering you a hand, and neither my name nor all the money in the world seemed to matter to you. I was nothing to you, and you made sure I knew it. To an eleven-year-old boy, that was a hard thing to take."
Harry was dumbfounded. "I had no idea."
"You were eleven years old. Of course you had no idea."
"I'm so sorry, Draco."
"So why didn't you?" Draco asked, his voice a mixture of curiosity and perhaps a bit of sadness. "Why didn't you accept my offer of friendship?"
"Well, I had just found out I was a wizard. I had no friends, and nobody had ever really been nice to me as far back as I could remember. Along came Hagrid, and he was nice - really nice - to me. He took me to Diagon Alley, where I met you. You started talking about Hogwarts, and the houses, and purebloods and Muggles, and what you said reminded me of my bully of a cousin and how he is. When Hagrid came back, you insulted him, the first and only person I ever remember being nice to me. Then, the day on the train, you insulted Ron, whom I considered to be a potential friend to me at the time - my first friend ever. That's why I rejected your hand."
"Oh." Disappointment echoed the word.
"Yes, well, you were eleven."
"And a prat, by the sound of it."
"And most definitely a prat," Harry agreed, but his voice held no malice.
"And you are apologizing to me why?"
"Because I had no idea why you were being the way you were, and I never even gave you a chance. Perhaps the end result would have been the same, but knowing you the way I do now, I'd like to think not. We might not have wasted all those years hating each other."
"But it sounds like maybe I'm the one who should apologize."
"Not to me. Besides, when I play back many of the times in school you and Ron got into fights, I'd venture a guess that he started them at least as many times as you did. And, if I'm not mistaken, I'm pretty sure he gave as good as he got, and he was consistently less likely to back down than you."
"I never backed down from a fight with the weasel," he said defiantly.
Harry chuckled. "No, you didn't. But you were less likely to carry on fights to the lengths that Ron was. In other words, of the two of you, he may actually be the more likely to start with the insults, and carry them on indefinitely."
"If you say so," muttered Draco.
"That isn't an insult to you, by the way. In fact, it's the opposite."
"Oh." This time there was no disappointment accompanying the word.
"Anyway, we're friends now, so we can look ahead instead of back, yeah?"
"Sure Harry."
================
Over the next few weeks, they spent much of their time talking. They had settled into a routine, and every evening after dinner, they sat by the fire and talked about their pasts, their lives. In short, they did what they hadn't bothered doing years before -- they got to know one another.
Harry learned that Draco's childhood had been anything but the charmed life he had imagined the Malfoy heir to have had. Of course, had he really thought about it, he would have realized that having Lucius Malfoy as a father couldn't have been easy. Harry felt more than a little guilty that he had presumed a life with parents -- no matter who those parents were -- had to be better than a life with none. God, am I really that self-absorbed? He sure hoped not.
Sure, Draco had had all the material things a child could ever want and then some, but what he really wanted was his father's love. Unfortunately, the concept of love seemed to have escaped Lucius Malfoy. While Narcissa loved Draco, it still wasn't the same. Even though Harry knew that it had been difficult for Draco, he was secretly glad that his father had died during the war, no longer able to hurt his son. And he was far more glad that it wasn't at his own hand, but at Voldemort's.
Draco too had discovered that his impression of Harry's childhood -- absent parents notwithstanding -- had been far from reality. Of course, Lucius had always told him that Harry had had a charmed life, a sheltered life, and Draco had believed him. But once he was at Hogwarts, and had heard some of the rumours about Harry's upbringing, he had steadfastly refused to entertain any scenarios besides that which his father had painted as the picture of Harry's life before Hogwarts. God, am I really that obstinate? He made a promise to himself not to be like that in the future.
He learned that Harry had lived in a cupboard under the stairs for ten years before attending Hogwarts. He had been abused, ignored, and basically treated like a cross between trash and a house-elf. Harry was secretly pleased at how indignant Draco was on his behalf. In fact, Draco had threatened to go off and throw a few Unforgivables at the Dursleys for good measure, but Harry rightly pointed out that it wouldn’t do him any good to spend the rest of his life in Azkaban. His sorry excuse for a family wasn't worth it. Harry suspected, however, that Draco wasn’t through with that plan.
==================================
A week later, Ron dropped in for a visit. “So, what’s Malfoy going to do now?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, now that the war’s over, we don’t need him around any more.”
“What are you talking about, Ron?”
“I know he doesn’t have a home to go to any more, but surely he’s got enough money left to get a place of his own. And I don't buy into any of that rot he was spewing at me when 'Mione and I left. So when are you kicking him to the curb?”
“What?!?”
“When. Are. You. Telling. Him. To. Move. Out?”
"I'm not. He's welcome to stay. He can consider this his home as long as he wants."
"What?!? Are you mental, Harry? When has he ever done anything for anyone but himself. Even during the war, he only came to our side because he knew it was the winning side. He's nothing but a --"
"Stop right there! You don't know him, and I'd thank you to stop insulting him. I consider him a friend now, regardless of what your opinion is. This subject is closed. It's been nice seeing you Ron, but I really have some things to be getting on with. You can see yourself out, yeah?" He brushed by a stunned Draco, who had been standing in the hallway, on his way out the door.
====================
Later that day, Harry entered the study, where Draco was sitting by the fire, with a Prophet in his hand, looking for a place to live. Facing his future.
When Draco didn't respond to his greeting, Harry asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Well, it’s all over now, isn’t it? We've had months of Voldemort-free living, and it's been ages since everyone else moved out. I suppose now is as good a time as any to move on with our lives.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Look, Potter, I appreciate you letting me stay here, but it's obvious the Ministry has no intention of handing over my family home any time soon. I'd best be getting on with finding alternate accommodation.”
“Did you just call me Potter?”
“Um … “ Draco stammered. “Well, yes. It is your name, after all,” he recovered with his usual sarcasm.
“I don’t believe this!” And for the second time that day, Harry stormed out of the house.
=====================
He returned several hours later to find Draco at the kitchen table, the Daily Prophet in front of him with several ads circled, looking sullen.
"Draco, obviously you overheard my conversation with Ron earlier today." He nodded his response. "Look, you and Ron have never got on, right?"
The laugh Harry received was dripping with contempt. "There's an understatement."
"But you and I are friends now, right?"
"Yes," he replied tentatively.
"Well then, what would make you think that I would throw a friend out on the street, based on the words of someone I know despises him?"
"Well, I wouldn't exactly be 'out on the street' as you so eloquently put it."
"That's not the point! I wouldn't ask you to leave, just because Ron said to!"
"All the more reason for me to leave."
"What?!"
"As you said, Harry, you will not ask me to leave. It's better that I do it myself. The weasel did have a point, you know. I certainly have the money to find a place of my own. I don't need to stay here."
"Fine then." Harry went to leave the room, but stopped at the doorway. Without turning around, he asked, "Is that what you want? Do you want to leave?"
Draco fidgeted in his seat before answering. "I don't want to come between you and your friends, Harry. You've already done so much for me."
"You are my friend too, Draco. Probably my closest friend right now, if I'm truthful about it. And we have done so much for each other. It's been a two-way street, and I intend for it to stay that way." He looked at Draco, whose expression was unreadable. "So, you didn't answer me. Do you want to leave?"
"Well, not really, but --"
"Then stay," he said as he turned around. "I ... well ... I don't want you to go. I've got quite used to you being here, and it's ... nice having you around."
"My God, Potter. Did you just admit that it's nice to have me around?"
"Yes, well --"
"And the ground didn't swallow you up. Will wonders never cease?" he teased. Smiling, he continued. "Are you sure about this, Harry? I don't want you doing something you don't want to do, even if it will piss off the weasel."
"I'm very sure. I enjoy your company, and I honestly don't know what I'd do with myself, living here alone. In other words, I'd miss you. Besides, how long can they keep the manor from you? Eventually you'll have your family home back, and all will be right with the world." Even as the words came out of his mouth, Harry couldn't help but be saddened by them. Sure, he wanted Draco to have his home back, but the selfish part of him rather hoped he could stay with Harry. What does THAT mean?
"Oh, don't be surprised if they keep it for a very long time. Possibly years, in fact. Are you sure you don't want to retract the offer now, before it's too late?"
Harry smiled at the thought of having Draco there for years. "I'm sure. You can stay here for as long as you want. In fact, I insist."
"Well, if you insist, I suppose I can't say no to the Saviour of the Wizarding World. After all, what would people think?"
"Oh, shut it, Malfoy!"
====================================
A few days later, Harry opened the door to find Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini on the other side. "We're here to visit Draco," Blaise offered. "He knew we were coming, but he said we had to come to the door, because your Floo has been shut off."
"Yeah, it has. With it being Headquarters, too many people knew the connection, so we need to set up some proper wards to restrict access, but I haven't got around to it yet. Come on in," he said as he moved aside and waved them in. "Draco will be down in a couple minutes. Can I get you something to drink? Tea? A butterbeer perhaps?"
Both of them looked at Harry in a stunned fashion. "What?" he asked.
"Well --" Blaise began.
"You're being nice to us," Pansy finished. "I mean, we've never got on, and we're not friends."
"No, I suppose that's true. But you're Draco's friends, and you're guests in my home, so why shouldn't I be polite? Now, what can I get you?"
"Tea," Blaise answered, and as an afterthought, "please."
"Yes. Tea would be lovely, thanks," replied Pansy.
"Well, make yourselves at home," he said, guiding them into the sitting room, and venturing off to the kitchen to make tea. He could hear their voices mumbling something as he walked away, but he couldn't make out the words.
===============
Draco came down the stairs, and entered the sitting room. "Oh, you're here. I thought I heard someone at the door. It's great to see you."
"You too," they both said, as Draco hugged Pansy and shook Blaise's hand.
"So, what can I get you to drink?" he offered.
"Potter's already getting us tea," Blaise said.
"Okay then. I'll just go give Harry a hand, and maybe put some cakes out for us as well. Be right back."
================
"Thanks Harry," he said as he entered the kitchen. "You really don't have to do that."
"I know, but it's no bother. Besides, they're your guests. You grab the cakes, and I'll bring this out."
Harry carried the tray of tea out to the sitting room. "Well, I'll leave you to it then," he said as he placed the tray on the table, and Draco brought in the cakes.
"Why?" Pansy asked.
"You don't have to leave on our account," offered Blaise.
"Yes I do. The three of you have some catching up to do, and I will get out of your way so you can have some privacy. Besides, I've already planned to meet up with a friend in Hogsmeade."
"Well, alright then."
"Draco, do you need anything while I'm there? I'll probably stop in at the shops."
"Hogsmeade, eh?"
"Yes, I'll stop at Honeydukes." He rolled his eyes. "Shall I get you your usual chocolate fix then?"
"Mm, please."
"Right then. I'm off. Enjoy your visit." As he exited the house, he called over his shoulder, "Nice to see the two of you again."
====================
Blaise and Pansy exchanged looks, and then focussed on Draco, who was busy adding milk to his tea. "What?" he asked, feeling their stares, and noticing the silence.
"So how long have the two of you --"
"When did you start --"
"What the hell are you two talking about? Two of who? Start what?"
"Go on then, Blaise. You ask him."
"So since when have you and Potter been shagging?"
Draco nearly choked on his tea. As soon as his coughing subsided, and he regained his voice, he gave them both a shocked look. "I'm sure I have no idea what you two are talking about."
"Oh, come now, Draco. You can't honestly think we didn't notice."
"Notice what?" he asked, feeling quite astonished at what they were saying.
"The way you look at each other."
"And how comfortable you are with each other."
"And the fact that he knows that Honeydukes is your favourite chocolate."
"And if all that wasn't enough, he was NICE to us!"
"He made us tea, for Merlin's sake!"
"Stop it!" Draco finally managed to say, his head reeling from their words. "We live together. Oh, that's not what I mean, Blaise," he said as his friend smirked and raised his eyebrows at him. "We live under the same roof, and have for some time now. And for the past several months, it's been just the two of us here. So naturally we are comfortable with one another. And every time I've gone to Hogsmeade, I've come back with chocolate, so of course he knows that it's my favourite. I've probably mentioned it a dozen times. And as for making you tea, you are a guest in his home. Of course he would offer to get you some refreshments. He may have been raised by Muggles, but he's not a complete stranger to entertaining guests."
Pansy just smirked at him. "You forgot how you look at each other."
"What?!"
"Yeah, Draco. What's with the puppy dog eyes you gave him earlier?"
"I did not ... I don't ... what the hell are you talking about?"
His two friends nearly collapsed from laughter. "Okay mate, I was having you on about the 'puppy dog eyes,' but the two of you do look quite cosy. You should see yourselves. I don't think it would have been much more of a shock to me if he'd given you a kiss goodbye before leaving."
"Again I have to ask, what are you on about? We are friends. Yes, there ... I've said it. Hell has officially frozen over. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are friends. But that is all we are. Honestly, I can't believe the two of you!"
"Methinks he doth protest too much," Pansy chuckled.
"Methinks you are right, fair lady," Blaise added with a bow.
"Methinks you have both gone right 'round the twist," said Draco. "And stop quoting Muggle literature at me!"
They agreed to disagree, and spent the rest of the afternoon catching up, making arrangements for them to come back for dinner in a few weeks' time. As they said their goodbyes, Pansy said, "Tell your boyfriend goodbye from us and thanks for the tea!"
"And tell him if he breaks your heart, he'll have me to deal with," Blaise added, chuckling all the way down the path towards a safe Apparition point.
"He's not my boyfriend!" he yelled after them, not caring if anyone heard him.
"Whatever you say, Draco," was all he heard as they turned the corner.
==================
Meanwhile, Harry had met up with Hagrid at the Three Broomsticks, and they had spent the last couple hours catching up on the goings on in each other's lives. Out of the blue, Hagrid put down his drink noisily on the table. "So, you and -- er -- Malfoy. How long have you two, you know?"
"What?"
"Well, you know, 'arry. How long have you been ... er ... t'gether?"
"Together? What do you mean, together?"
"T'gether, a couple. So when did you two, y'know?"
"No, Hagrid, I don't know. What are you talking about? Draco and I are friends. Yes, I know, that's a bit of a shocker, but once you get to know him, he's really not all that bad."
"I know. You've already said. Several times, in fact."
"What?"
"You've been talkin' 'bout Malfoy non-stop since you got here, 'arry. It's been Draco this and Draco that, and you've got this starry-eyed look on your face when you're talkin' 'bout 'im, and I dunno. I s'pose I just figured there was summat more to it than you were sayin', is all."
"Well there isn't."
"If you say so."
"I do say so."
"Alrigh' then."
"Good. Can we talk about something else, then?"
"Sure. What're you an' Draco doin' for dinner tonight, then?"
"Well, we were --" Harry stopped as he saw the smirk on Hagrid's face.
"Sorry, 'arry, I couldn't resist. Y'know, you oughta take a good look at yerself when yer talkin' on about 'im. You look positively smitten."
"Shut up," Harry said, feeling a blush engulfing his face, despite his efforts not to react to what Hagrid was saying.
"Okay. I'll leave you be 'bout it."
They had a nice visit, and as they parted ways outside Honeydukes, Harry gave his friend a hug goodbye. "I'll see you soon, Hagrid."
"Three weeks, your place for dinner. I'll be there." As he was walking away, he turned back and called over his shoulder. "You know, you should get Malfoy some flowers to go with that chocolate."
==========================
As he waited for Harry to return, Draco sat wondering about what his friends had said. Did he like Harry that way? Did Harry like him back? A bigger question - was Harry even gay? Draco had always thought he was straight. Truthfully, he hadn't really given Harry's sexual orientation much thought before. This was silly. They were friends, and that was all. Blaise and Pansy just had vivid imaginations.
==========================
As Harry made his way around Hogsmeade, and picked up a few essentials for the house, he thought back to what Hagrid had said. Was Harry really going on about Draco? He was virtually the only person Harry had had contact with for the past few months, what with Ron and Hermione looking for a house, and his other friends busy looking for work or starting new jobs. It was only natural to talk about the person you spent most of your time with, wasn't it? It didn't mean anything more than that, right? Besides, was Malfoy even gay? And Hagrid wasn't exactly the most perceptive person he knew. Harry shook his head, sure that Hagrid was reading too far into things.
============================
When Harry arrived home, he saw Draco looking contemplative in the sitting room, apparently unaware that he had arrived.
"A sickle for your thoughts," Harry said.
Draco nearly jumped out of the chair. "Harry! I didn't see you come in."
"Apparently," he laughed. "What were you thinking about that had you so deep in thought that you didn't hear the front door?"
Draco blushed, and said, "Oh, nothing."
"Alright then. So when did Pansy and Blaise leave?"
"Oh, just a little while ago, actually. Fifteen minutes sooner, and you would have seen them."
"Well, then, good timing on my part."
"They're not that bad," Draco grumbled.
"No, no, that's not what I meant. I just wanted to give you space, so the three of you could catch up, so I'm glad I didn't interrupt. I think they were probably glad too. I think that I shocked them enough for one day just making tea."
Draco smiled at that remark. "Yes, that certainly surprised them. Among other things."
"What other things?"
"Nothing. Never mind. How was your visit to Hogsmeade?"
"I got your favourite chocolates."
"What, no flowers?" Draco asked, immediately regretting it. He felt his own face redden, as he watched Harry's turn pink.
"Um ... er ... I'll go put these things away then."
"I'll make some tea then, shall I?" Draco said, following him into the kitchen. As he busied himself preparing the tea, he was suddenly aware of the other man's proximity and how fit Harry was, as he watched him putting away the groceries. His clothing, thankfully things that fit him properly these days, hung just right off his slim frame, and accentuated all the right parts. He let out a sigh.
"Did you say something?" Harry asked.
"No, nothing. Nothing at all."
"Okay then. What did you want to do for dinner tonight?"
"Doesn't matter. You?"
"I thought we might get some take-away. Maybe from that new place around the corner you like so much?"
"Sounds good," he said, inexplicably pleased that Harry knew what he liked. Could Pansy and Blaise be onto something?
As they sat at the kitchen table eating their dinner, each was watching the other, thinking about their strange encounters with their friends that afternoon.
Harry noticed how Draco's features had softened over the years. His fair skin was complemented by his pink lips and grey eyes, forming a very attractive face. His almost white hair was no longer slicked back, and Harry had to suppress the urge to run his hands through it to see if it was really as soft as it looked. Where did that thought come from? The clothing he chose, always the best money could buy, really worked with his colouring, and Harry could appreciate just how incredibly striking his former enemy, now friend, really was.
"Do I have sauce dripping down my face?" Draco asked.
"What? No."
"You're staring, Harry."
"Sorry. Just lost in thought, I guess."
"Oh."
Now it was Draco's turn to stare. He took in Harry's tanned skin, his shoulders that had filled out very well since school, and his incredibly messy hair -- all of which formed a very sexy package. Whoa! That was unexpected. As he watched Harry's tongue dart out of his mouth just a little bit to meet the fork each time he put it in his mouth, Draco thought of all the wonderful things he would like that tongue to do.
"Draco?" Harry interrupted his musings just when things were getting good.
"Mm?"
"Now you're staring. What gives?"
Well, he might as well just tell him. "I was just thinking about something Blaise and Pansy said when they were here earlier."
"What's that?"
"They asked how long we'd been shagging."
Harry began to cough as he choked on his food. "Give a guy some warning next time," he admonished after catching his breath.
Draco smiled. "Sorry about that. Funny, but I had the same reaction, only it was tea I choked on."
Harry returned his smile, his cheeks flushed. Draco wasn't sure if it was from what he had said, or his choking fit. "So what did you tell them?" Harry asked.
"I told them it's only been a couple weeks."
"You what?!"
"Kidding. Relax, I told them we're just friends."
"And what did they say?"
"Oh, they went on about how comfortable we seem with each other, and other such rot. Of course, I explained that we live together, so of course we got to know each other better, and that you're straight anyway."
"Interesting."
"What's so interesting?"
"Well, I'm not. But besides that, I had a similar conversation with Hagrid."
"What do you mean, you're not?"
"I mean I'm not straight. But I find it fascinating that Hagrid asked me how long we'd been together too."
"What did he base that on? And since when are you gay?"
"Since always, I suppose, but I figured it out in our last year at school. And Hagrid said that I wouldn't stop talking about you, and ..." His voice trailed off, as he realized just what it had been that Hagrid said. He didn't much feel like telling Draco that he apparently got all starry-eyed when talking about him. Besides, he didn't believe it anyway.
"And what?"
"Oh, nothing. Just that it sounds like we do a lot together."
"And why would that make him jump to any such conclusions?"
"Oh, I dunno. Who knows why Hagrid thinks the way he does?"
"Harry?" Draco got up and walked over to where Harry was sitting.
"Yes?" He looked up at Draco questioningly.
"Perhaps there's something to what they were saying."
"You think?"
"Perhaps. Should we test that theory?"
"How do you suggest we do that?" he asked, thinking back to what Blaise and Pansy had said to Draco earlier.
"I think I'd like to kiss you."
"Oh."
"Is that alright with you, Harry?"
"Sure. In fact, I think I'd like that very much."
"I was hoping you'd say that."
Harry stood up, and they looked into each other's eyes. They stood like that for the longest time, before Harry broke the silence. "Change your mind?" he whispered.
"Not a chance," Draco said as he brought his hand up to Harry's face, cupping his chin, and running his thumb along his cheek. He leaned in, and his lips brushed Harry's so softly, it was like the feel of the sun over damp skin on a hot summer's day. Harry leaned in closer, and pressed their lips together tentatively. Draco's tongue darted out softly to lick Harry's lower lip, before pulling it gently into his mouth. He grazed the lip slightly with his teeth, and as Harry uttered a moan, he slid his tongue into the other man's mouth. As Harry's tongue reached out to meet his, a jolt like an electrical impulse surged through Draco's body, filling him with a sudden warmth, causing him to groan with pleasure.
As the kiss deepened, their tongues explored each other's mouths with abandon, at first fighting for dominance, but quickly settling into an unhurried rhythm. This kiss was unlike any Harry had experienced before. It was perfect and hot and God, it felt so right.
Harry's one hand reached up, and he ran his fingers through that hair which was, indeed, as soft as it looked. His other hand rested on the small of Draco's back, pulling and then holding the blonde's body up against his own. He let out an involuntary gasp just as their bodies connected.
Draco rested one hand on Harry's hip, while the other was at the back of his neck, holding on as though to ensure the kiss didn't end too quickly. There was no need to worry about that, as neither one of them was in any hurry to stop what they had started. Their lips, tongues and teeth continued to work their magic, while their bodies were pressed together, hips moving in unison.
When they finally broke apart, their breathing was ragged, both of them flushed, panting, and visibly aroused. Harry was the first to speak. "Remind me to thank Pansy and Blaise."
"Will do," Draco nodded. "I suppose I should thank Hagrid too."
Harry growled as he pulled Draco into his arms for another searing kiss, "Later."