Anything But That (H/D, 14+)
Title: Anything But That
Author/Artist: sesheta_66
Beta: confiteor3
Requestor: irrevokable for slashfest
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: 14+
Wordcount: 4420
Summary: Ron reluctantly enlists the help of Draco to help Harry get through a rough time he's having.
Disclaimer: Characters and setting all belong to JK Rowling and her publishers. No infringement is intended, and no money is being earned.
A/N: The request was for: "Post-war. Harry has become lost after the war, maybe has an injury that prevented him from joining the Aurors, and now has sort of lost his hold on life. I'm not particular on how it happens but I would like for Draco to show Harry how to live again, how to love again; to have Draco be the one saving this time around instead of Harry."
Five years it had been, and Ron was now screaming at Harry that he was at his wit's end. Harry had become a recluse, and Ron didn't know what to do for his friend. He and Hermione had tried everything they could think of, but it was no use. Harry said that Ron was more than welcome to just go away and leave him, but that hadn't worked. Ron and Hermione were the only two that hadn't listened to him and were still around.
Harry had been left weakened by the final battle, his power only half of what it had been. He could still function, and truthfully he was still more powerful than some witches and wizards, but he was used to the level of power he had had, and this weakened state was something that he just couldn't tolerate. Especially as he watched others around him grow in strength. Hell, after the war, with his improved confidence, even Neville had surpassed Harry by now! He refused to say it aloud, but that hurt the most.
He watched as they all found their place in the world after the war. Hermione and Neville went back to Hogwarts to teach Muggle Studies and Herbology, respectively; Ron worked at the Ministry, having taken over for his father when Arthur got promoted; and Ginny was working as a Healer, having discovered her love for helping others during the war.
But the topper of them all was Malfoy. He was now playing professional Quidditch, for a team that had previously sought out Harry. Reflexes slowed, confidence shattered, Harry hadn't ridden for two years now. It was rather embarrassing, considering the fiasco that had resulted from his last attempt. A dog barking in the distance had broken his concentration, and he had fallen off. A dog! He was the local laughing stock. He hadn't got on a broomstick since.
The problem was that there was precious little to do when one didn't have a job. Auror training was obviously out of the question, so his dream had died along with most of his magic that day.
Ron and Seamus were at a Cannons' game one afternoon when an idea struck.
"What about Malfoy?" asked Seamus. "Surely he can get a rise out of Harry."
"Well, yeah, he always could. But I don't want to piss Harry off. I just want him to get better." He stared off at the game for a while before continuing. "He's fading away, you know. I don't even know who he is anymore."
"Then what have you got to lose?"
Ron shot him a look that clearly said, 'a hell of a lot.'
"Does it matter who helps him or how, so long as he gets help?" Seamus reasoned.
"I suppose not."
"You have to admit that even though they always fought, they certainly brought out the life in each other."
"In an attempt to end it," Ron deadpanned.
Seamus laughed in spite of himself. Ron did have a point. "Well you say he's practically dead now anyway, so what would it hurt?"
"Seamus!"
"Kidding, kidding. Nobody's gonna kill anybody."
"Says you."
So it was that Ron found himself approaching Draco Malfoy at the end of a particularly good game of Quidditch. He hung back at the end of the queue of fans waiting for an autograph from the Seeker. When Malfoy was done signing the last one, he looked up and a broad smirk spread over his face.
"Weasley, fancy meeting you here."
"Malfoy."
"To what do I owe the pleasure? Surely you don't want my autograph?"
"No."
"Good. I was beginning to worry that hell had frozen over. So …"
"Could we go talk somewhere?"
"Seems to me we can talk just fine here."
Malfoy was not going to make this easy for him. Typical. "It's just that I'd rather talk in private."
"Why, Weasley, I didn't know you swung my way!"
"What? No! What I mean is -"
"Relax. Merlin, you're easy to rile these days! You must really be in a state if you actually approached me."
"It's not about me. It's about Harry." Draco's expression changed. Gone was the relaxed, joking, taunting manner, and in its place was a serious look.
"What about Potter?"
"Please. Could we talk about this somewhere else?"
"Fine. Let me wash up, and I'll meet you round the front in twenty minutes."
Well, that went surprisingly well. Ron hadn't expected it to be so easy. Of course, Malfoy hadn't agreed to anything yet, except to talk. But Ron couldn't help the feeling that Malfoy actually looked … concerned perhaps?
True to his word, twenty minutes later, Draco emerged to find an anxious Ron waiting for him. "So, where shall we go?" Ron asked.
"How about my flat? Can't get more private than that."
"Okay." It was a sign of his desperation that Ron hadn't even considered that Malfoy might have been planning some sort of ambush. Of course, they had grown up since school, and the war was over, but still … their rivalry wasn't exactly typical; it went far deeper. But Harry needed his help, and he was not about to let anything stop him.
"Care for a cup of tea?"
"Um … sure," Ron said, only now thinking of how surreal the situation was.
Cup of tea in hand a few minutes later, he started. "Harry is a wreck. No, that's not right. He is physically okay. Not great, as he has let himself go a bit, but still healthy and all that. But after the war, he lost a lot of his power."
Draco looked shocked. "He what?! Why have I not heard about this before?"
"Because we kept it quiet. He doesn't want sympathy or help from anyone. He just wants to be left alone."
"So why are you telling me this?"
"Because I don't know what else to do. None of us can get through to him."
"What about your sister? Weren't they close?"
"Yeah, well, not any more. They haven't spoken for a year or so. A year ago last Christmas, actually. Harry has become withdrawn, and doesn't go out at all any more. He doesn't work, he doesn't socialize, nothing. He just gets up, gets dressed - well, on a good day he dresses - and eats enough to keep himself going. He has everything delivered to his house now, so he doesn't even go out shopping any more. Basically, he sits in front of the Muggle telly and tunes out the real world."
Ron looked down into his hands, the impact of what he was telling Malfoy weighing on him heavily. Malfoy said nothing. In fact, nearly five minutes went by as they sat in silence. Ron was about to leave, figuring Malfoy wasn't going to help, when the blonde broke the silence.
"So what do you expect me to do? I'm no Healer. I don't have the slightest clue what to do to help. That is what you want from me - my help, right?"
"Yes, but I don't know what that means, how you can help. Seamus suggested you, actually. He figured that you and Harry had always managed to get a rise out of each other, so maybe that would help."
"So, what? You expect me to insult him better?" he said indignantly.
"No! Well ... I don't know. Just … something, anything is better than what he's doing now. We've tried everything we can, and so far nothing has worked. He just gets worse and worse by the day. I'm scared, Malfoy. Really scared. I don't know what he'll do." That must have done it, because the cold façade that Malfoy always wore shattered, if only for the briefest of moments. Ron could see … was it concern? ... on the Slytherin's face.
"Very well, then. I'll do it," Malfoy said in a very businesslike manner, indifferent mask back in place. "But don't expect miracles."
"I've long since given up on those. Truth be told, I don't think I expect anything. But I didn't know what else to do, where else to turn."
"Alright then. I'll meet you tomorrow at half noon, and we'll ambush him together."
Ron smiled at that, and - shocked at himself for doing so - he reached out to shake Malfoy's hand. "Thank you. Thank you for doing this."
"Oh, don't kid yourself. I'm not doing this for you," he said as he shook Ron's hand. Ron had no doubt that Malfoy's words were true. The only question was for whom he was doing this? Not that it mattered, though, so long as Harry got better.
The next day, Ron met up with Malfoy as planned, and 'ambush' didn't quite describe what happened next.
"Harry, it's me. Open up," Ron called to the locked and warded door. He heard the telltale click of the door unlocking, which was followed by the tingling sensation of the wards being dropped.
"I thought you said he lost his power," Draco whispered to Ron.
"Not completely. He can still do basic spells."
"Oh."
"Harry, I brought someone with me," Ron said as they entered. "Someone from school you haven't seen for quite some time." He looked at Malfoy and grinned. "I thought you could use the company."
"What the hell, Ron? I don't want company. I've told you I don't even want you here, but I can't seem to get rid -" He stopped dead in his tracks as he reached the front hall and saw, of all people, Draco Malfoy standing there.
"What ... the ... fuck ... is he doing here?" he bellowed, not once taking his eyes off Malfoy.
"My, my, Potter. As gracious as ever, I see. The Muggles, I presume, did not teach you proper etiquette when receiving guests, then?" Draco busied himself with brushing imaginary lint from his robes.
"Well, I'm off," said Ron hastily. "Duty calls and all that. Enjoy catching up." Ron turned to leave, calling over his shoulder as he walked out the door, "Don't kill each other, okay?" Then he was gone.
"Coward," Harry and Draco said in unison. This made Draco smirk and Harry scowl.
They stood in silence for what seemed like an hour, but was only a few minutes.
"Well, since you don't seem to be offering, how about I go make some tea?" Draco suggested, turning towards the kitchen.
"You? What?" Harry looked at him warily. "Why?"
"Well, Potter, I would have thought that was rather obvious, even for you. I would like a cup of tea. How about it? Would you care to join me?" he said, making his own way into the kitchen.
"What? Wait! It's my house. If there's tea to be made, I'll be the one making it!" Harry huffed.
"Why thank you, Potter. Yes, I would love a cup of tea. Lovely of you to offer," he said, taking a seat at the kitchen table and beaming - since when did Malfoy beam? - at Harry.
Realizing what had just happened - that Draco had deftly manipulated him - Harry scowled again.
"You know, Potter, you are going to look old before your time if you keep scowling like that. You look almost Snape-like. I don't remember you being quite this surly back in school."
"What can I say? You bring out the worst in me."
"Oh, if this is your worst, I suppose it's a good thing you've already offed Voldemort."
"Piss off."
"Is this really how you treat your guests?"
"You are not my guest. You snuck in here, for reasons that escape me, uninvited -"
"On the contrary, Harry, I was invited here by the weasel. I believe he's your best friend, in case you forgot. And that was at the suggestion of Seamus Finnegan, another Gryffindor friend of yours. Furthermore, I did not sneak in here. You unlocked the door and dropped the wards. That was an invitation."
"You tricked me!"
"Aw, is the poor war hero feeling hard done by?"
"Fuck off."
"Such a wonderfully diverse vocabulary you have."
"What do you want, Malfoy?"
"I thought we had determined that already." At Harry's confused look - some things never change - he added, "Tea. I want a cup of tea." He smiled at Harry, clearly getting under the other man's skin. "Or will I have to make it myself after all?"
Harry let out an exasperated sigh, then made a pot of tea, throwing some cookies onto a plate for good measure. "There," he said as he placed everything onto the table. "Now what do you really want?"
"I don't know, Potter. This was all Weasley's idea."
"What was? What does he expect to happen?"
"I don't know, but he seemed pretty determined. And he seemed to think you were shutting yourself off from the rest of the world."
"So?"
"So, he's worried that you might not ever come back, I think. Or that you might try something really stupid."
"So what does any of this - not that I agree with Ron about any of it - have to do with you?"
"I don't think Finnegan or the weasel actually thought any of this through properly. They just figured that we used to get under each other's skin so much in school, that you wouldn't ignore or dismiss me so readily. Nor would I put up with your shite, I suppose."
"But Ron hates you!"
"Yes, well, what was it that he said to me? Oh yes ... 'Desperate times call for desperate measures'."
"So you are the desperate measures?"
"Apparently."
Harry choked out a laugh before he could stop himself, Draco joining him. For the first time in their lives, the two former enemies laughed together.
"I must really have scared Ron if he called you," Harry said solemnly.
"Indeed." Draco sipped his tea, wondering how best to start. Well, might as well jump right in. "So, Harry, tell me what happened after the war. Weasley tells me you lost a lot of your power."
"He told you that?" Somehow that didn't bother Harry as much as he would have thought. He wasn't sure if it was that small shared laugh they had, or the passage of time that made Harry almost ... well ... almost comfortable enough with Malfoy as he explained what had happened. As it turned out, the ground did not open up and swallow him whole.
Draco ended up staying for a few hours after that, and miraculously not a drop of blood was shed.
The next day, Draco showed up - this time invited - and they spent the afternoon talking about the war, the losses on both sides, the pointlessness of it all. Then they dared to discuss their time at school. Draco had decided that, in order to help Harry, he would have to start by being honest with him.
"You know, I never really hated you, Harry."
"Oh, give me a break! You did everything in your power to make me miserable. Not to mention Ron. You were horrible to Ron too."
"Yes, well, I still don't like Ron. He's an insufferable git."
"Pot. Kettle."
"Oh, alright. We detest each other. And we were equally immature about it."
"Oh my God. Did you just admit -"
"I admitted nothing, Potter. I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about."
Harry grinned. "Fine then. How can you claim not to have hated me?"
This was the hard part. Draco looked Harry in the eye and saw nothing but sincerity, honesty. He knew at once this was a man he could trust. Strange how he had never noticed that before.
"At first I was angry, because you had turned down my offer of friendship. That hurt, and I didn't know how else to react. So I lashed out at you, and at Weasley, the one you chose in favour of me."
Harry looked at him, as though trying to determine whether or not he was being honest. "I didn't realize -"
"I know. But that doesn't change how I felt back then. That one small incident in your mind was quite a big one in mine. It shaped how I interacted with you from that day forward."
"You do realize that you were -"
"An insufferable git. Yes, I know. But I didn't know then. All I knew is that nobody had ever refused me anything before, and you - a boy whose name I had heard my whole life - turned me down completely. It cut me to the quick. And then later, when the anger wore off, I was jealous. Sometimes insanely jealous."
"Of what?"
"Of you for being Dumbledore's favourite, of Ron who was your friend when I had wanted to be, of you always getting to the snitch first."
Harry's lip twitched as the memories of Quidditch games gone by. That vanished in a heartbeat as he remembered his last time on a broom. Draco gave him a look as if to say, I'm storing this away, for later use.
And use it he did.
The next week, he finally convinced Harry to leave his flat and go out. Though reluctant, Harry had finally agreed, possibly just to shut him up. When Draco Apparated them, Harry found himself in the stadium of Draco's team. Only they were by themselves. Nothing but them and their brooms.
"Draco, I can't -"
"Yes you can, Harry. And you will. We're not leaving here until you do."
Eventually Harry relented and climbed atop the broomstick. "Hey, is this mine?" he asked.
"Yup. I saw it at your place, and scooped it."
"Once a Slytherin ... always a Slytherin."
Draco beamed. "Absolutely."
They spent the afternoon flying around the stadium. When Draco finally released the snitch, Harry took off like a bullet shot out of a gun. He smiled as Harry's hand just grazed the edge of the snitch, and it escaped. He shouldn't get pleasure out of that, but he was most definitely the better Quidditch player right now. He chose to ignore the voice in his head that accurately pointed out the fact that Harry hadn't played in a very long time. No matter. Harry hadn't seemed bothered by the miss, only more determined. The two of them played one-on-one, and Draco won. Finally.
They met daily after that, taking advantage of the empty Quidditch pitch as often as they could. Draco continued to win, but it was getting more challenging. After a few months, Harry was almost back up to his prime flying level. Draco had noticed his confidence in other areas grow too.
They went out, not just to the Quidditch pitch, but also in public. They had even gone out in Muggle London, much to Harry's surprise. Harry had been skittish at first, but now seemed back to his usual self. No, that wasn't right. Draco had never seen him carry himself with such self-assurance before. And with all the Quidditch they were playing, as well as the walking they were doing, he hadn't seen Harry this fit before either. Sure, he had been in good shape in school, but he had been rather scrawny. This Potter was a fully-grown man who had filled out in all the right places, thank you very much. Draco tried to shake that thought from his mind. Harry is straight, and I'm his friend. Nothing more. Don't ruin it.
Harry's magic was still limited. Draco had researched potions, spoken to Healers (never disclosing that Harry was the subject), and done anything and everything he could think of before accepting the inevitable. Apparently, a large part of Harry's power had been drained in his efforts to rid the world of Voldemort's Horcruxes, and eventually Voldemort himself. But it wasn't as though Harry's magic was gone - only diminished. Harry had finally accepted it and moved on. Draco wasn't so sure he could have done that. When he told Harry as much, he was shocked to hear Harry's response.
"I have you to thank for this, you know," Harry had said.
"What are you talking about? I didn't do anything. I failed," Draco had replied.
"Draco, you are not the cause of this. In fact, you did everything you could to help. It's not your fault this is a permanent condition. Besides," he smiled up at Draco, "it's not so bad. Now I think I've managed to have my childhood wish granted."
Confused, Draco had looked at him like he was insane.
Harry laughed. "I hated being the one everyone knew, everyone looked at, everyone talked about. I had always wanted to be 'just like everyone else', and I suppose now I am."
"You really are a nutter, you know that, Potter?"
"Yeah, well, takes one to know one, I suppose," he said, nudging Draco in the shoulder. "But seriously, you've somehow done the impossible. You've made me feel okay about everything. I can't go back, only forward. And if it took becoming friends with my former enemy to realize that things change and we can move ahead, then so be it. Thanks," he said, flashing Draco a genuine smile.
Draco was shocked. He was also a bit thrown by the warmth he had felt inside at Harry's words. Not to mention the smile he had received. This was not good.
The next time they played Quidditch, Harry said, "You're going down, Malfoy!"
"Oh, really? I doubt that, Potter. You're good, but I'm ... well ... I'm better."
"Don't count on it, blondie!" he called as he jumped onto his broom and took off.
Not sure why Harry was doing it - perhaps to throw him off his game - but he kept calling out to Draco. He called him blondie again, pretty boy, several other names, and one time even called him 'sweet cheeks', which was the final straw.
"Are you trying to throw off my game, Potter? Because that's not very Gryffindor of you."
"Did I not tell you that the hat wanted to put me in Slytherin?" Harry countered.
"What? No. But ... never mind that. You're just trying to distract me!"
Waggling his eyebrows and flying oh so close to Draco, Harry leaned in to say, "Scared, Malfoy?"
Grinning at the reminder of their second year duelling club confrontation, Draco replied, "You wish."
Harry then blew him a kiss and took off.
Ignoring the desire for this to be more than just a game, for Harry to really want to kiss him, Draco took off in pursuit of Harry ... no, the snitch. Definitely the snitch.
It took another fifteen minutes before they were both racing, neck and neck, towards the snitch. Harry pulled up alongside Draco, bringing himself shoulder to shoulder with him. They were riding together at break-neck speed. But Draco wasn't losing his concentration, no matter what. Still moving forward, somehow Harry leaned in closely enough to say, "I told you that you were going down, Malfoy," then licked his ear. Licked his ear!
Well, any hot-blooded man (or woman, for that matter) would lose concentration at that. Just for a fraction of a second, but it was enough. Harry caught the snitch.
"You cheater!" Draco yelled indignantly as he landed. "I can't believe you cheated! What ever happened to fair play? Gryffindor integrity, my arse!"
Laughing, Harry approached, "And a fine arse that is, Malfoy."
"Stop that!" Draco said. "Enough with the distraction tactics!"
"Who said anything about distraction? Besides, the game's over, Malfoy."
"Oh, please, Potter. Give me a break. I would never have expected it of you. And after all this time. I never once cheated this whole time. And you, the noble Gryffindor -"
Harry grabbed Draco by the shoulders, pulled the blonde towards him and shut him up by planting a rough kiss on his lips. Draco froze. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. Harry wasn't gay. Draco felt Harry's hands release his shoulders, one arm wrapping around him and pulling him closer, the other hand guiding its fingers through Draco's hair. Harry softened the kiss, pulling back a bit to run his tongue along Draco's lips. Draco came undone. Relaxing now, he mimicked Harry's movements, pulling him closer and running his fingers through the other man's hair.
His tongue met Harry's and an explosion went off inside him. He felt himself melt, yet become exhilarated in the same moment. This was better, more passionate, more perfect than any kiss in his life. Their tongues vied for control, neither winning, neither relenting. It was a hungry kiss, as though it were one they had deprived themselves of for so long. Perhaps they had. Because if Draco had known the power such a kiss would hold, he would never have held back. Why hadn't we done this before?
As they finally broke apart after minutes, or what could have been hours - Draco had lost track of time - he found his heart racing and his breathing erratic, much like Harry's. The look of lust in Harry's eyes went straight to Draco's groin.
"Now," Harry said with a lust-filled voice, pressing his body against Draco's, and rubbing his erection into the other man's. "About you going down, Malfoy?"
Draco groaned before finding his voice. "Oh, after that disgusting display on the pitch, Potter, I think it's you that should be going down."
Harry chuckled, eyes twinkling. "Fair enough, Malfoy. This time," he said as he wrapped his arms around Draco and Apparated them to his flat.
Years later, as they both reflected on that time in their lives, they would come to realize that what Draco did - extending the proverbial olive branch - was all they had really needed. For one of them to say, "let's start over." It was their new beginning. It didn't fix everything, nor did it heal the wounds of the past. But it was honest, it was real. And was more than either of them had come to expect from most people in their lives.
It would be easy, and also very wrong, to suggest that they lived happily ever after. Because for Harry and Draco, what was life without some challenges and bumps along the way? It made things interesting, kept them on their toes. Kept them real. And if they didn't have that, they'd be just like everyone else.
And as everyone knows, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are anything but that.
~ FIN
Author/Artist: sesheta_66
Beta: confiteor3
Requestor: irrevokable for slashfest
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: 14+
Wordcount: 4420
Summary: Ron reluctantly enlists the help of Draco to help Harry get through a rough time he's having.
Disclaimer: Characters and setting all belong to JK Rowling and her publishers. No infringement is intended, and no money is being earned.
A/N: The request was for: "Post-war. Harry has become lost after the war, maybe has an injury that prevented him from joining the Aurors, and now has sort of lost his hold on life. I'm not particular on how it happens but I would like for Draco to show Harry how to live again, how to love again; to have Draco be the one saving this time around instead of Harry."
Five years it had been, and Ron was now screaming at Harry that he was at his wit's end. Harry had become a recluse, and Ron didn't know what to do for his friend. He and Hermione had tried everything they could think of, but it was no use. Harry said that Ron was more than welcome to just go away and leave him, but that hadn't worked. Ron and Hermione were the only two that hadn't listened to him and were still around.
Harry had been left weakened by the final battle, his power only half of what it had been. He could still function, and truthfully he was still more powerful than some witches and wizards, but he was used to the level of power he had had, and this weakened state was something that he just couldn't tolerate. Especially as he watched others around him grow in strength. Hell, after the war, with his improved confidence, even Neville had surpassed Harry by now! He refused to say it aloud, but that hurt the most.
He watched as they all found their place in the world after the war. Hermione and Neville went back to Hogwarts to teach Muggle Studies and Herbology, respectively; Ron worked at the Ministry, having taken over for his father when Arthur got promoted; and Ginny was working as a Healer, having discovered her love for helping others during the war.
But the topper of them all was Malfoy. He was now playing professional Quidditch, for a team that had previously sought out Harry. Reflexes slowed, confidence shattered, Harry hadn't ridden for two years now. It was rather embarrassing, considering the fiasco that had resulted from his last attempt. A dog barking in the distance had broken his concentration, and he had fallen off. A dog! He was the local laughing stock. He hadn't got on a broomstick since.
The problem was that there was precious little to do when one didn't have a job. Auror training was obviously out of the question, so his dream had died along with most of his magic that day.
Ron and Seamus were at a Cannons' game one afternoon when an idea struck.
"What about Malfoy?" asked Seamus. "Surely he can get a rise out of Harry."
"Well, yeah, he always could. But I don't want to piss Harry off. I just want him to get better." He stared off at the game for a while before continuing. "He's fading away, you know. I don't even know who he is anymore."
"Then what have you got to lose?"
Ron shot him a look that clearly said, 'a hell of a lot.'
"Does it matter who helps him or how, so long as he gets help?" Seamus reasoned.
"I suppose not."
"You have to admit that even though they always fought, they certainly brought out the life in each other."
"In an attempt to end it," Ron deadpanned.
Seamus laughed in spite of himself. Ron did have a point. "Well you say he's practically dead now anyway, so what would it hurt?"
"Seamus!"
"Kidding, kidding. Nobody's gonna kill anybody."
"Says you."
So it was that Ron found himself approaching Draco Malfoy at the end of a particularly good game of Quidditch. He hung back at the end of the queue of fans waiting for an autograph from the Seeker. When Malfoy was done signing the last one, he looked up and a broad smirk spread over his face.
"Weasley, fancy meeting you here."
"Malfoy."
"To what do I owe the pleasure? Surely you don't want my autograph?"
"No."
"Good. I was beginning to worry that hell had frozen over. So …"
"Could we go talk somewhere?"
"Seems to me we can talk just fine here."
Malfoy was not going to make this easy for him. Typical. "It's just that I'd rather talk in private."
"Why, Weasley, I didn't know you swung my way!"
"What? No! What I mean is -"
"Relax. Merlin, you're easy to rile these days! You must really be in a state if you actually approached me."
"It's not about me. It's about Harry." Draco's expression changed. Gone was the relaxed, joking, taunting manner, and in its place was a serious look.
"What about Potter?"
"Please. Could we talk about this somewhere else?"
"Fine. Let me wash up, and I'll meet you round the front in twenty minutes."
Well, that went surprisingly well. Ron hadn't expected it to be so easy. Of course, Malfoy hadn't agreed to anything yet, except to talk. But Ron couldn't help the feeling that Malfoy actually looked … concerned perhaps?
True to his word, twenty minutes later, Draco emerged to find an anxious Ron waiting for him. "So, where shall we go?" Ron asked.
"How about my flat? Can't get more private than that."
"Okay." It was a sign of his desperation that Ron hadn't even considered that Malfoy might have been planning some sort of ambush. Of course, they had grown up since school, and the war was over, but still … their rivalry wasn't exactly typical; it went far deeper. But Harry needed his help, and he was not about to let anything stop him.
"Care for a cup of tea?"
"Um … sure," Ron said, only now thinking of how surreal the situation was.
Cup of tea in hand a few minutes later, he started. "Harry is a wreck. No, that's not right. He is physically okay. Not great, as he has let himself go a bit, but still healthy and all that. But after the war, he lost a lot of his power."
Draco looked shocked. "He what?! Why have I not heard about this before?"
"Because we kept it quiet. He doesn't want sympathy or help from anyone. He just wants to be left alone."
"So why are you telling me this?"
"Because I don't know what else to do. None of us can get through to him."
"What about your sister? Weren't they close?"
"Yeah, well, not any more. They haven't spoken for a year or so. A year ago last Christmas, actually. Harry has become withdrawn, and doesn't go out at all any more. He doesn't work, he doesn't socialize, nothing. He just gets up, gets dressed - well, on a good day he dresses - and eats enough to keep himself going. He has everything delivered to his house now, so he doesn't even go out shopping any more. Basically, he sits in front of the Muggle telly and tunes out the real world."
Ron looked down into his hands, the impact of what he was telling Malfoy weighing on him heavily. Malfoy said nothing. In fact, nearly five minutes went by as they sat in silence. Ron was about to leave, figuring Malfoy wasn't going to help, when the blonde broke the silence.
"So what do you expect me to do? I'm no Healer. I don't have the slightest clue what to do to help. That is what you want from me - my help, right?"
"Yes, but I don't know what that means, how you can help. Seamus suggested you, actually. He figured that you and Harry had always managed to get a rise out of each other, so maybe that would help."
"So, what? You expect me to insult him better?" he said indignantly.
"No! Well ... I don't know. Just … something, anything is better than what he's doing now. We've tried everything we can, and so far nothing has worked. He just gets worse and worse by the day. I'm scared, Malfoy. Really scared. I don't know what he'll do." That must have done it, because the cold façade that Malfoy always wore shattered, if only for the briefest of moments. Ron could see … was it concern? ... on the Slytherin's face.
"Very well, then. I'll do it," Malfoy said in a very businesslike manner, indifferent mask back in place. "But don't expect miracles."
"I've long since given up on those. Truth be told, I don't think I expect anything. But I didn't know what else to do, where else to turn."
"Alright then. I'll meet you tomorrow at half noon, and we'll ambush him together."
Ron smiled at that, and - shocked at himself for doing so - he reached out to shake Malfoy's hand. "Thank you. Thank you for doing this."
"Oh, don't kid yourself. I'm not doing this for you," he said as he shook Ron's hand. Ron had no doubt that Malfoy's words were true. The only question was for whom he was doing this? Not that it mattered, though, so long as Harry got better.
The next day, Ron met up with Malfoy as planned, and 'ambush' didn't quite describe what happened next.
"Harry, it's me. Open up," Ron called to the locked and warded door. He heard the telltale click of the door unlocking, which was followed by the tingling sensation of the wards being dropped.
"I thought you said he lost his power," Draco whispered to Ron.
"Not completely. He can still do basic spells."
"Oh."
"Harry, I brought someone with me," Ron said as they entered. "Someone from school you haven't seen for quite some time." He looked at Malfoy and grinned. "I thought you could use the company."
"What the hell, Ron? I don't want company. I've told you I don't even want you here, but I can't seem to get rid -" He stopped dead in his tracks as he reached the front hall and saw, of all people, Draco Malfoy standing there.
"What ... the ... fuck ... is he doing here?" he bellowed, not once taking his eyes off Malfoy.
"My, my, Potter. As gracious as ever, I see. The Muggles, I presume, did not teach you proper etiquette when receiving guests, then?" Draco busied himself with brushing imaginary lint from his robes.
"Well, I'm off," said Ron hastily. "Duty calls and all that. Enjoy catching up." Ron turned to leave, calling over his shoulder as he walked out the door, "Don't kill each other, okay?" Then he was gone.
"Coward," Harry and Draco said in unison. This made Draco smirk and Harry scowl.
They stood in silence for what seemed like an hour, but was only a few minutes.
"Well, since you don't seem to be offering, how about I go make some tea?" Draco suggested, turning towards the kitchen.
"You? What?" Harry looked at him warily. "Why?"
"Well, Potter, I would have thought that was rather obvious, even for you. I would like a cup of tea. How about it? Would you care to join me?" he said, making his own way into the kitchen.
"What? Wait! It's my house. If there's tea to be made, I'll be the one making it!" Harry huffed.
"Why thank you, Potter. Yes, I would love a cup of tea. Lovely of you to offer," he said, taking a seat at the kitchen table and beaming - since when did Malfoy beam? - at Harry.
Realizing what had just happened - that Draco had deftly manipulated him - Harry scowled again.
"You know, Potter, you are going to look old before your time if you keep scowling like that. You look almost Snape-like. I don't remember you being quite this surly back in school."
"What can I say? You bring out the worst in me."
"Oh, if this is your worst, I suppose it's a good thing you've already offed Voldemort."
"Piss off."
"Is this really how you treat your guests?"
"You are not my guest. You snuck in here, for reasons that escape me, uninvited -"
"On the contrary, Harry, I was invited here by the weasel. I believe he's your best friend, in case you forgot. And that was at the suggestion of Seamus Finnegan, another Gryffindor friend of yours. Furthermore, I did not sneak in here. You unlocked the door and dropped the wards. That was an invitation."
"You tricked me!"
"Aw, is the poor war hero feeling hard done by?"
"Fuck off."
"Such a wonderfully diverse vocabulary you have."
"What do you want, Malfoy?"
"I thought we had determined that already." At Harry's confused look - some things never change - he added, "Tea. I want a cup of tea." He smiled at Harry, clearly getting under the other man's skin. "Or will I have to make it myself after all?"
Harry let out an exasperated sigh, then made a pot of tea, throwing some cookies onto a plate for good measure. "There," he said as he placed everything onto the table. "Now what do you really want?"
"I don't know, Potter. This was all Weasley's idea."
"What was? What does he expect to happen?"
"I don't know, but he seemed pretty determined. And he seemed to think you were shutting yourself off from the rest of the world."
"So?"
"So, he's worried that you might not ever come back, I think. Or that you might try something really stupid."
"So what does any of this - not that I agree with Ron about any of it - have to do with you?"
"I don't think Finnegan or the weasel actually thought any of this through properly. They just figured that we used to get under each other's skin so much in school, that you wouldn't ignore or dismiss me so readily. Nor would I put up with your shite, I suppose."
"But Ron hates you!"
"Yes, well, what was it that he said to me? Oh yes ... 'Desperate times call for desperate measures'."
"So you are the desperate measures?"
"Apparently."
Harry choked out a laugh before he could stop himself, Draco joining him. For the first time in their lives, the two former enemies laughed together.
"I must really have scared Ron if he called you," Harry said solemnly.
"Indeed." Draco sipped his tea, wondering how best to start. Well, might as well jump right in. "So, Harry, tell me what happened after the war. Weasley tells me you lost a lot of your power."
"He told you that?" Somehow that didn't bother Harry as much as he would have thought. He wasn't sure if it was that small shared laugh they had, or the passage of time that made Harry almost ... well ... almost comfortable enough with Malfoy as he explained what had happened. As it turned out, the ground did not open up and swallow him whole.
Draco ended up staying for a few hours after that, and miraculously not a drop of blood was shed.
The next day, Draco showed up - this time invited - and they spent the afternoon talking about the war, the losses on both sides, the pointlessness of it all. Then they dared to discuss their time at school. Draco had decided that, in order to help Harry, he would have to start by being honest with him.
"You know, I never really hated you, Harry."
"Oh, give me a break! You did everything in your power to make me miserable. Not to mention Ron. You were horrible to Ron too."
"Yes, well, I still don't like Ron. He's an insufferable git."
"Pot. Kettle."
"Oh, alright. We detest each other. And we were equally immature about it."
"Oh my God. Did you just admit -"
"I admitted nothing, Potter. I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about."
Harry grinned. "Fine then. How can you claim not to have hated me?"
This was the hard part. Draco looked Harry in the eye and saw nothing but sincerity, honesty. He knew at once this was a man he could trust. Strange how he had never noticed that before.
"At first I was angry, because you had turned down my offer of friendship. That hurt, and I didn't know how else to react. So I lashed out at you, and at Weasley, the one you chose in favour of me."
Harry looked at him, as though trying to determine whether or not he was being honest. "I didn't realize -"
"I know. But that doesn't change how I felt back then. That one small incident in your mind was quite a big one in mine. It shaped how I interacted with you from that day forward."
"You do realize that you were -"
"An insufferable git. Yes, I know. But I didn't know then. All I knew is that nobody had ever refused me anything before, and you - a boy whose name I had heard my whole life - turned me down completely. It cut me to the quick. And then later, when the anger wore off, I was jealous. Sometimes insanely jealous."
"Of what?"
"Of you for being Dumbledore's favourite, of Ron who was your friend when I had wanted to be, of you always getting to the snitch first."
Harry's lip twitched as the memories of Quidditch games gone by. That vanished in a heartbeat as he remembered his last time on a broom. Draco gave him a look as if to say, I'm storing this away, for later use.
And use it he did.
The next week, he finally convinced Harry to leave his flat and go out. Though reluctant, Harry had finally agreed, possibly just to shut him up. When Draco Apparated them, Harry found himself in the stadium of Draco's team. Only they were by themselves. Nothing but them and their brooms.
"Draco, I can't -"
"Yes you can, Harry. And you will. We're not leaving here until you do."
Eventually Harry relented and climbed atop the broomstick. "Hey, is this mine?" he asked.
"Yup. I saw it at your place, and scooped it."
"Once a Slytherin ... always a Slytherin."
Draco beamed. "Absolutely."
They spent the afternoon flying around the stadium. When Draco finally released the snitch, Harry took off like a bullet shot out of a gun. He smiled as Harry's hand just grazed the edge of the snitch, and it escaped. He shouldn't get pleasure out of that, but he was most definitely the better Quidditch player right now. He chose to ignore the voice in his head that accurately pointed out the fact that Harry hadn't played in a very long time. No matter. Harry hadn't seemed bothered by the miss, only more determined. The two of them played one-on-one, and Draco won. Finally.
They met daily after that, taking advantage of the empty Quidditch pitch as often as they could. Draco continued to win, but it was getting more challenging. After a few months, Harry was almost back up to his prime flying level. Draco had noticed his confidence in other areas grow too.
They went out, not just to the Quidditch pitch, but also in public. They had even gone out in Muggle London, much to Harry's surprise. Harry had been skittish at first, but now seemed back to his usual self. No, that wasn't right. Draco had never seen him carry himself with such self-assurance before. And with all the Quidditch they were playing, as well as the walking they were doing, he hadn't seen Harry this fit before either. Sure, he had been in good shape in school, but he had been rather scrawny. This Potter was a fully-grown man who had filled out in all the right places, thank you very much. Draco tried to shake that thought from his mind. Harry is straight, and I'm his friend. Nothing more. Don't ruin it.
Harry's magic was still limited. Draco had researched potions, spoken to Healers (never disclosing that Harry was the subject), and done anything and everything he could think of before accepting the inevitable. Apparently, a large part of Harry's power had been drained in his efforts to rid the world of Voldemort's Horcruxes, and eventually Voldemort himself. But it wasn't as though Harry's magic was gone - only diminished. Harry had finally accepted it and moved on. Draco wasn't so sure he could have done that. When he told Harry as much, he was shocked to hear Harry's response.
"I have you to thank for this, you know," Harry had said.
"What are you talking about? I didn't do anything. I failed," Draco had replied.
"Draco, you are not the cause of this. In fact, you did everything you could to help. It's not your fault this is a permanent condition. Besides," he smiled up at Draco, "it's not so bad. Now I think I've managed to have my childhood wish granted."
Confused, Draco had looked at him like he was insane.
Harry laughed. "I hated being the one everyone knew, everyone looked at, everyone talked about. I had always wanted to be 'just like everyone else', and I suppose now I am."
"You really are a nutter, you know that, Potter?"
"Yeah, well, takes one to know one, I suppose," he said, nudging Draco in the shoulder. "But seriously, you've somehow done the impossible. You've made me feel okay about everything. I can't go back, only forward. And if it took becoming friends with my former enemy to realize that things change and we can move ahead, then so be it. Thanks," he said, flashing Draco a genuine smile.
Draco was shocked. He was also a bit thrown by the warmth he had felt inside at Harry's words. Not to mention the smile he had received. This was not good.
The next time they played Quidditch, Harry said, "You're going down, Malfoy!"
"Oh, really? I doubt that, Potter. You're good, but I'm ... well ... I'm better."
"Don't count on it, blondie!" he called as he jumped onto his broom and took off.
Not sure why Harry was doing it - perhaps to throw him off his game - but he kept calling out to Draco. He called him blondie again, pretty boy, several other names, and one time even called him 'sweet cheeks', which was the final straw.
"Are you trying to throw off my game, Potter? Because that's not very Gryffindor of you."
"Did I not tell you that the hat wanted to put me in Slytherin?" Harry countered.
"What? No. But ... never mind that. You're just trying to distract me!"
Waggling his eyebrows and flying oh so close to Draco, Harry leaned in to say, "Scared, Malfoy?"
Grinning at the reminder of their second year duelling club confrontation, Draco replied, "You wish."
Harry then blew him a kiss and took off.
Ignoring the desire for this to be more than just a game, for Harry to really want to kiss him, Draco took off in pursuit of Harry ... no, the snitch. Definitely the snitch.
It took another fifteen minutes before they were both racing, neck and neck, towards the snitch. Harry pulled up alongside Draco, bringing himself shoulder to shoulder with him. They were riding together at break-neck speed. But Draco wasn't losing his concentration, no matter what. Still moving forward, somehow Harry leaned in closely enough to say, "I told you that you were going down, Malfoy," then licked his ear. Licked his ear!
Well, any hot-blooded man (or woman, for that matter) would lose concentration at that. Just for a fraction of a second, but it was enough. Harry caught the snitch.
"You cheater!" Draco yelled indignantly as he landed. "I can't believe you cheated! What ever happened to fair play? Gryffindor integrity, my arse!"
Laughing, Harry approached, "And a fine arse that is, Malfoy."
"Stop that!" Draco said. "Enough with the distraction tactics!"
"Who said anything about distraction? Besides, the game's over, Malfoy."
"Oh, please, Potter. Give me a break. I would never have expected it of you. And after all this time. I never once cheated this whole time. And you, the noble Gryffindor -"
Harry grabbed Draco by the shoulders, pulled the blonde towards him and shut him up by planting a rough kiss on his lips. Draco froze. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. Harry wasn't gay. Draco felt Harry's hands release his shoulders, one arm wrapping around him and pulling him closer, the other hand guiding its fingers through Draco's hair. Harry softened the kiss, pulling back a bit to run his tongue along Draco's lips. Draco came undone. Relaxing now, he mimicked Harry's movements, pulling him closer and running his fingers through the other man's hair.
His tongue met Harry's and an explosion went off inside him. He felt himself melt, yet become exhilarated in the same moment. This was better, more passionate, more perfect than any kiss in his life. Their tongues vied for control, neither winning, neither relenting. It was a hungry kiss, as though it were one they had deprived themselves of for so long. Perhaps they had. Because if Draco had known the power such a kiss would hold, he would never have held back. Why hadn't we done this before?
As they finally broke apart after minutes, or what could have been hours - Draco had lost track of time - he found his heart racing and his breathing erratic, much like Harry's. The look of lust in Harry's eyes went straight to Draco's groin.
"Now," Harry said with a lust-filled voice, pressing his body against Draco's, and rubbing his erection into the other man's. "About you going down, Malfoy?"
Draco groaned before finding his voice. "Oh, after that disgusting display on the pitch, Potter, I think it's you that should be going down."
Harry chuckled, eyes twinkling. "Fair enough, Malfoy. This time," he said as he wrapped his arms around Draco and Apparated them to his flat.
Years later, as they both reflected on that time in their lives, they would come to realize that what Draco did - extending the proverbial olive branch - was all they had really needed. For one of them to say, "let's start over." It was their new beginning. It didn't fix everything, nor did it heal the wounds of the past. But it was honest, it was real. And was more than either of them had come to expect from most people in their lives.
It would be easy, and also very wrong, to suggest that they lived happily ever after. Because for Harry and Draco, what was life without some challenges and bumps along the way? It made things interesting, kept them on their toes. Kept them real. And if they didn't have that, they'd be just like everyone else.
And as everyone knows, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are anything but that.
~ FIN