2Disclaimer: the characters and settings recognisable in this story belong to J. K. Rowling and her respective publishing companies.
20th April 2004
The dawning sun peeped over the horizon where towering, green treetops dominated the golden hues of the skyline. Wispy, white, clouds floated nonchalantly high above. Delighted thrushes and skylarks crooned delightfully to one another, and the sweet smell of the flowers in the window box truly heightened the beauty of the morning.
The beauty of the day was a direct contrast to the morning of one Harry Potter. The twenty-six year-old male was currently staring out his bedroom window and contemplating recent events with a sour expression on his face. His negative state had nothing to do with his poor childhood, or the terrible trials and tribulations he faced throughout his unusual teenage years. No, his foul mood was because of his wife – Ginerva.
Well, to be more accurate, his mood was due to his wife sleeping in the arms of another.
Of course, most men would be angry if they discovered that their wife had betrayed the monogamous sanctity of their marriage but for Harry Potter? Not so much. In fact, Harry was quite unsurprised by Ginny's infidelity. He only wondered why it had taken her so long to begin an affair.
Leaning further out the window, he lit a Muggle cigarette with practised ease and took a deep, satisfying, drag. The noxious properties of the object worked wonders at relieving the tension which had wormed its way into his chest.
From a young age, Ginerva Weasley had held a crush on the 'Boy-Who-Lived'. Her attention was mostly unwanted by the boy in question, and was received with the awkwardness that came to him naturally. She wanted a hero, and for the most part, Harry failed to meet her expectations. However, on the few occasions that he was forced into the role, he played it well and Ginny only became even more infatuated with him and over the years. Eventually, Harry convinced himself that the affection and admiration he had for her was devotion.
However, the passionate fervour that Ginny always seemed capable of inciting in others quickly faded from their relationship. They had, of course, consummated their marriage on their wedding night, and on many other occasions as well, but Harry's actions were rarely guided by an overwhelming desire for Ginny.
Oh, it wasn't this way in the beginning. In those first few months, he dedicated their intimate moments to discovering new ways to pleasure and satisfy her. However, after the honeymoon period was over, Harry realised - too late - that he did not love her in the way she deserved. It quickly became apparent to him that his love for her was more familial than spousal; and with this realisation, his lovemaking became mechanical and distant. He stopped instigating their intimate moments and would only touch her sexually if she requested it and sometimes not even then.
It was obvious now to Harry, that with a spirit as fiery and passionate as hers, his dispassionate attentions were insufficient.
Stifling.
Abhorrent.
Sighing heavily, he lit another cigarette. He knew that he only had himself to blame. If he wanted a happy marriage then he should never have married Ginny. He always believed that he married her because of his love for her and her family. However, looking back now, he realised that it was also because marriage to Ginny was convenient. At the time, he deeply cared for Ginny; he admired her spunk and was truly proud of the woman she had become, so it was so, so easy to convince himself that he was in love. That his feelings for Ginny were enough for marriage. And, if Harry was being truly accountable, proposing to Ginny after the Battle was over and the dead buried, saved him from being hounded by the hordes of women desperate to be the wife of the 'Saviour'.
'Not that it stopped that all that much,' Harry thought wryly, thinking back to the desperate plots some women attempted to embroil him in. He dreaded what they would do once they learned he was now back on the market, because that was what he was now.
After discovering Ginny's infidelity, Harry immediately filed for divorce. If he had his way, he would have filed for divorce years ago but due to the archaic nature of the Wizarding World, divorce was often difficult to achieve. There were only a few ways a marriage could become invalidated and only if these were written into the marriage contract and agreed upon by the bridegroom and groom's father, because even in the 21st century the Wizarding World still thought marriage talks too complicated for the female brain. Physical abuse, infidelity, and line theft were some of the only situations a marriage could end; emotional and sexual abuse were almost completely unrecognsied.
Ironically, once one filed for divorce, the results were pretty much instantaneous. With the aid of magic, the injured party could easily prove their case since the vows they exchanged were magically binding oaths, and once these were broken the offending party's signature was grayed out on their marriage contract.
It only took the solicitor one glance at their contract to approve the divorce.
After his dealings with the solicitor were finalised, and Ginny was no longer a member of the Potter household, Harry apparated back to the town-house he owned on Harley Street. He leant against the windowsill, cigarette in one hand and the other bracing the side of the ledge, watching the clouds roll by and waiting for the chaos which would inevitably ensue when his now ex-wife and her lover awoke.
It was difficult to keep his eyes open. He had been working around the clock for the past 27 hours with only short naps and espresso shots to keep him going. He was in dire need of a good rest but he knew he had to get this over with first before Ginny received the paperwork finalising the divorce.
When the sound of lazy kisses, and mumbled words met his ears, Harry violently crushed the stub of his cigarette and flicked the abused dog-end to the street below.
"So," he loudly said into the room; instantly drawing the attention of the couple on the bed. "How long has this been going on for?"
"Listen, mate," Ginny's lover started, whilst hurriedly accioing his Auror robes and dressing himself. "I understand that this isn't the nicest thing to come home to, but please don't tell my superiors, I'll never touch her again. Urquart'll have my hide!"
"Oh, don't worry, Edward. I won't tell them anything," Harry assured the Auror; pausing just long enough that the other man let out a sigh of relief. "However, I can't speak on behalf of the press. Gossip like this is just brilliant for the papers, and I cannot guarantee the solicitor's secrecy if a certain sum of money is offered."
"Listen I am sorry, I really am-"
"Try listening to that when someone fucks your wife," Harry dryly returned, which Edward took as a sign to leave. 'Wise man.'
"I wouldn't have to go looking for another man if you just fucked me yourself!" Ginny declared angrily; jumping from the bed to stand before Harry - uncaring about her lack of dress. "You haven't touched me in years! You don't even touch me or hug me anymore. I never see you, we eat in silence, we sleep in the same bed but you don't even kiss me or ask about my day. Am I not good enough for you anymore?" By the end, Ginny had tears streaming down her face and Harry's heart broke a bit more at what he'd reduced her to.
"Gin," Harry's voice caught in his throat and he reached an arm out for her. "Gin, come here," he ordered softly, gently pushing her to the bed, and she swiftly fell into his arms. "Gin, I do love you," he whispered into her hair. "Just not in the right way." He grimaced as Ginny cried harder in his arms. "I think you're amazing Gin but we just weren't good together, and I know you know that. Our relationship isn't normal, and I've made you so miserable and I am so sorry for that."
He pressed a kiss to her fiery hair, knowing now that she wouldn't mistake it for anything other than comfort. Ginny raised her face to meet Harry's. "But what went wrong? We were so happy at the beginning"
"I…" Harry paused whilst dearly wishing he hadn't smoked his last cigarette. "I was fooling myself, Gin. I thought I loved you like a husband should love his wife, but I was wrong. You're my dearest friend but I don't think I was ever in love with you and I realised it too late. And you were trapped in our marriage but I couldn't bring myself to break our oaths for fear of hurting you, but now looking at you now, I know I should have ended this sooner if only to spare you the heartache."
Ginny's face contorted into a moue of confusion. "Harry," she began cautiously, "Are you talking about a divorce? I know they have them in the Muggle world but they aren't allowed here."
"Yes they are, Gin," Harry stated quietly. "Your father and I agreed on the terms of the marriage when discussing your settlement, and we agreed that divorce would be possible in the case of any adultery." Ginny let out a soft groan of distress. "Gin, what's wrong? I thought you'd be happy. You can find someone who truly deserves you."
"You don't get it, Harry! Divorces aren't normal here. It will cause such a scandal!" And Harry realised she was thinking about her Quidditch career and smiled softly knowing that she was thinking about herself and her needs.
"Gin, Gin, Gin," Harry chanted lowly to grab her attention. "I already took care of that."
"What? You told Edwa- … You told us that your solicitor could be bribed."
"Don't worry about that; Chapman won't talk. I've already had it leaked to the Prophet that I was the one who broke our oaths."
Ginny's doe-like eyes widened at that declaration. "Harry, I-"
"Ginny, let me do this for you. I've neglected you for years and you deserve better." Harry's voice was firm. "My name's been dragged through the mud plenty of times so I can deal with whatever they throw at me. Plus, I have tenure so I don't have to worry about my job. People will still talk and whisper about what happened, and I'm sorry you'll have to go through that but at least people won't accuse you of-"
"Of what I actually did!" She exclaimed, but Harry could see that she was beginning to come around to the idea. For a while, they just laid on the bed and held one another but eventually Ginny broke the silence. "Thank you, Harry, for taking the blame."
Harry smiled softly and hugged her tighter. "It was the least I could do, Gin." He stroked her back gently and he hated how she seemed to relish at the attention. Just how had he neglected her so much? "I don't want to rush you at all, but you need to know that this place is yours." Harry steadfastly ignored the protestations he saw brewing on her face and carried on. "I've got Grimmauld and the other Potter properties so I'm sorted, but this way you have somewhere to live rather than moving back with your parents."
"I…" Ginny faltered and Harry knew he was victorious when he saw the indecision warring on her face. He knew that whilst Ginny loved her mother she could only take her in small doses now that she was an adult. Growing up as the youngest Weasley, and the only girl, meant that Ginny was subject to Molly's exuberant, and often overbearing, nature and she wouldn't be able to cope living back in her childhood home. "Fine." The pout on Ginny's face was pure petulance.
Harry grinned to himself, knowing that whatever life threw at them in the future he and Ginny would be fine.
Molly Weasley was used to early mornings. After seven children and a busy husband, she had learnt to wake early to meet the needs of her family. Many a woman would have considered this demeaning work, especially since she was proficient with her wand and skilled with her mind, but Molly Weasely thought motherhood and all its domestic duties was the best job around. She could constantly be in contact with her family, keep the house in some sort of chaotic 'order', and ensure that everyone was well-fed.
Since she was used to the early mornings, she was busily frying bacon, knitting a summer cardigan, and cleaning the surfaces when her son-in-law Harry Potter entered the kitchen. Visits weren't unheard of in the Burrow, but it was still unexpected to find the man she had called a son for the past twelve years standing awkwardly in the doorway.
"Harry!" she greeted happily, bustling over to the boy, and embracing him tightly in a hug, which he quickly returned with vigour. She heard him murmur something akin to 'Hi Molly' into her shoulder, and she could tell that something was bothering her 'son'. So, it stood without reason that she asked him about it, once he was settled at the table with a decent-size mug of tea.
"It's about me and Ginny,," he finally admitted, after fiddling with the edges of a crumbling custard-cream biscuit, and Molly felt something drop in her chest. 'Oh Merlin, what has she done now?' she moaned, settling a comforting hand on Harry's and soft enquiring eyes on his own saddened yet determined ones.
"What happened dear?"
Harry took a deep breath and declared quietly yet firmly. "We're getting a divorce."
Molly's hand flew to her mouth. "A divorce!" Her voice was scandalised and loud. "But your marriage contract…" she faltered as her eyes widened in horror. "Arthur told me the terms of your contract...only adultery could cause a divorce."
Harry grimaced at Molly's expression. "Molly, you have to understand. Me and Ginny haven't been happy for years and I don't blame her at all for what she did." Molly looked flabbergasted at the information he'd imparted and he shifted guiltily in his seat. "I'm sorry having to tell you this."
"I… I don't understand," Molly was devastated. "I always thought you two were happy. I know I hadn't seen you two together in a while but I just thought you were busy at work and couldn't visit together. To think you were miserable…" she trailed off to dab her eyes with a kitchen rag.
Harry fiddled with the edge of the biscuit plate. "I'm so sorry we didn't tell you sooner, Molly. We didn't want to worry you with our problems," he rambled out and then took a bite from the biscuit just so he didn't say anything else.
"Nonsense Harry, I'm just so disappointed in Ginerva. I've raised her better," Molly tittered, glaring at the wall wishing it was her daughter.
"Molly, please don't blame Ginny. We were stuck in a marriage that was making us miserable and she gave us a way out," Molly made as if to speak and Harry hurriedly interrupted. "I don't love her, Molly, I don't think I was ever in love with her. I don't….I'm not..." he trailed off, a bright blush staining his cheeks as he snatched another custard cream off the plate and angrily biting into it.
"Harry?" Molly questioned, sensing deja vu, from the conversation she had with Charlie many years ago.
"Molly, I'm bisexual but I cared for Ginny, and forced my…uh 'urges' away to focus on our marriage but it just wasn't enough," Harry blurted out, hanging his rosy-red face in shame. He didn't want to see the disappointed and angry look upon Molly's face.
"Idiotic boy," she murmured affectionately, gently squeezing his trembling hand. "You shouldn't have had to hide your true self Harry but I am angry that you caused yourself misery pretending to be something that you're not. Ginerva shouldn't have been so obsessed with you anyway, and I regret now that I hadn't nipped that infatuation in the bud when I first saw it, but it seemed so harmless at the time."
"Sorry," he mumbled out, "but I just wanted to be part of your family ever since I was a child, and I just thought that marrying Ginny would help me firmly become a fixture here."
"Fiddlesticks!" Molly admonished sternly; wrapping the small man in another rough embrace. "You've been my son for years, and I'm sorry that you felt the need to marry Ginerva to know that yourself."
"Sorry," he repeated, clinging onto her tightly. He really loved the Weasleys, and had thought of Molly as his surrogate mother for years, but sometimes the affection she showed him just reminded him of the mother he never had. So, with a light sniff, he untangled himself from her arms and offered a watery grin. "I think the bacon's burning," he laughed out, smiling softly as Molly quickly raced to the smoking pan.
"It's just slightly...crispy," she eventually said, after assessing the damage. "And if we scrape off the slightly darker bits then no-one will be able to tell the difference. Are you staying for breakfast?" she asked, casting a disapproving glance at his thin frame.
"I would love to." he answered, rubbing his face with his palms. "But I really should tell Ron and Hermione the news, before the papers get wind of it. Merlin, that would go down so well."
"Well then it's a good thing that they're both coming around for breakfast then isn't it? They should be here in a couple of minutes, so could you set the table dear?" she asked, posing an intimidating figure with a skillet in one hand and wand in the other.
"Y-Yes Molly," he easily agreed, hurrying to the cutlery draw to lay the table.
"And you're coming for dinner tonight," she stated more than questioned, causing the man to grimace, subsequently making her narrow her eyes.
"I-uh, I'm working another late shift," he stuttered out, wanting to please the woman yet knowing he was failing.
"Harry James Potter I will tell you now, that you will not work another late-shift. You are tired off your feet, and will be no use to St. Mungo's like that. Floo them now and tell them that you won't be able to make it, say you're ill or having family problems."
"Molly, I can't do that, they need me there-"
"I'm sure that they've got more Healers that can do your job-" she interrupted with a dismissive voice.
"Molly!" Harry shouted; making the mother stare at the man with a raised eyebrow and the young man flushed brightly. "Molly," he repeated much quieter this time. "I love you dearly, but you're just slightly overbearing sometimes. The fact is that there aren't that many specialised in the area of spell-damage – not after the war anyway, so I am extremely lucky to have such a brilliant Mediwitch to train under. And as I was going to say, this is my last shift of the week; Healer Zabini has given me the next couple of days off."
"Oh fine." the bustling witch acquiesced, and if Harry didn't know better he would say she was pouting. "But you better come here everyday for your meals after tonight."
"Yeah, ok, Molly. I'm sorry for snapping at you," he said with a relieved sigh.
"No, it was partly my fault, I just can't help but mother you, you're so adorable." the ginger-haired witch admitted.
"Molly!" Harry gasped out, scandalous at the woman who he considered his mother's tone. Luckily her attention was soon focused upon salvaging the smoking breakfast, with a smile resting upon her face as she heard the creak of stairs which could only be her husband
"Harry m'boy, I didn't know you were coming today!" Arthur jovially greeted, moving to kiss his wife on the cheek. "I just passed Ron and Hermione in the hallway, they seem really happy about something, do you know what it is?" he directed at the other two, who shook their heads in return. "Oh well, we'll find out soon." He quickly settled himself at the table, beaming at Harry before opening the Quibbler which was resting upon the table.
"Mate!" Ron exclaimed, walking into the kitchen whilst fixing the shoulders of his Auror uniform. "How are you?"
"Okay, I guess, you?"
"Brilliant mate!"
"Harry!" the bushy-haired woman squealed when she saw her other best-friend sitting at the table, and wasted no time in crushing him into a hug. "I didn't know you were coming around. Where's Ginny?" she asked with a grin, which faltered when she saw the grim expressions on both Harry's and Molly's faces. "What happened?"
"You might want to sit down." he told them seriously, and was glad that they complied with little protestation. "I have divorced Ginerva," he said, watching Arthur's smile slip off his face, Hermione's face to blank, and Ron's to grow red.
"Why'd you do that to her!" the youngest male Weasley demanded furiously, "How's she gonna live? I'm guessing she hasn't got anywhere to live any more. How could you!" he shouted whilst roughly kicking his chair aside.
"That is enough!" Molly intervened, "As much as it pains me to admit it, Ginny's situation is her entire fault."
"Molly-wobbles!" "Mum!"
"I said that is enough." she repeated in clipped tones, casting a frosty glare at her husband and son.
"Sorry," Ron weakly said whilst picking his chair up from the floor, and sinking heavily into it.
"Why did you split with Ginny?" Hermione questioned softly, grasping Harry's hand in her own, much like how Molly did earlier.
"She cheated on me," the raven-haired man murmured, twirling the fork next to him. "But things haven't been well for years and we're both happy to go our separate ways. Oh, and she's keeping the Harley Street property," Harry added for Ron's benefit.
Ron flushed red in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, mate," he apologised.
"It's all right, Ron, I'm not blaming you."
"But what else is there?" Hermione asked, squeezing his hand gently as he worried his bottom lip between his teeth.
"Damn you for being so perceptive 'Mione," he muttered softly, chuckling weakly at his own words. "I'm bisexual," he admitted for the second time that day, fear growing inside his stomach as Hermione remained silent, and Ron's sad face morphed into one of horror.
"Y-You don't fancy me do you, mate?" he asked in genuine fear, causing his friend to let out a loud bout of laughter.
"Only you, Ron," he managed to say between his fading laughter. "Oh, promise to never change. No, I don't fancy you."
"Good, because that would have been awkward," the red-haired youth mumbled, before glaring at his wife. "How long have you known?" he demanded of her.
"I guessed when we in sixth-year, when all he would do was stare at Seamus' and Draco's arses," she answered wryly, laughing delightedly at Harry's blush and Ron's strangled 'Malfoy'
"Seamus has such a nice accent," he mumbled out, burying his face in his hands.
"And Draco?" Hermione pressed, smiling at the raven-haired man's moan of terror. "Well I must admit Draco has got quite a nice-"
"'Mione!" was Ron's outraged reply, "How could you even say that? It's Malfoy!"
"Hush, Ron. Draco has been nothing but a gentleman since the end of the War, hasn't said one bad word about anyone, and is a very diligent worker."
"Are you gonna leave me for Malfoy?" Ron asked half-jokingly; his ire reawakening at the thought, which made his wife glare half-heartedly at him, although everyone there could see the amusement in her eyes.
"You're such an idiot, Ronald Weasley," she laughed out, pecking him affectionately on the cheek.
"So is that a 'no'?" the youngest Weasley asked uncertainly.
"Of course it is, dimwit."
"Sorry."
"You better be," she said affectionately. "Anyway why would I leave you for another man, I think that our news would be roof of the opposite."
"Oh yeah." he choked out, flushing red at his wife's words. "This looks amazing mum!" he declared at the hearty full-English breakfast which Molly had just placed in front of him, and immediately dug into it with vigour. Harry met Hermione's amused eyes from above the red-head, and simultaneously rolled them with matching grins.
"Arthur mentioned that you two seemed happy earlier, and you just talked about your news," Molly nonchalantly said, shrewdly looking at the pair before her. "Should I start knitting baby booties now or later?" she asked, clapping her son on the back when he started choking on his toast, and smiling benignly at the shocked looks on Harry and Arthur's faces.
"W-why would you think that 'Mione's pregnant?" he stuttered out, with the woman in question nodding along slowly.
"Because, Ronald, I am a mother, and I notice these things. So, I take that as a yes?"
It was Hermione who answered. "Yes. I'm 4 weeks gone now, we just got it confirmed last night."
"You'll be having a winter baby?" Harry enquired, after pulling her into a tight hug. "Because that is really cute, y'know... What?" he demanded when both Molly and Hermione laughed at him. "Oh don't you say how obvious it was that I'm not straight." he whined good-naturedly "I'm just excited about my best-friend having a sprog, okay? Totally natural," he declared, smiling at Hermione who was clasping her husband's hand even though he was shovelling food into his mouth with the other.
"'ust, 'eep, 'chelling, 'self, 'at." was what Harry deciphered from Ron's mouth.
"Oh, hush you. 'Mione's the one who guessed I was bisexual not you."
"Yeah but it's 'Mione," Ron said, after swallowing his previous mouthful; and Harry could swear that Hermione was muttering about the emotional ranges of teaspoons, and idiotic husbands.
It was a short while later that the two Weasley men left the Burrow together to go to the Ministry. Molly was cleaning the kitchen after adamantly refusing the offered help from both Harry and Hermione, so they wandered in the garden and occasionally threw grain at the chickens bobbing about outside the Burrow. The silence was comfortable (and much welcomed in Harry's opinion), however, if he knew his friend as well as he knew he did then she would inevitably break it for some answers.
"I couldn't really ask you anything else once Ronald got it into his head that I was leaving him," the witch spoke, amusement evident in her tone as she threw an extra handful of corn at an especially persistent chicken which Harry knew Ron called 'Pot Pie' when Molly and Hermione weren't around. "However, how long have you known you were that way inclined?"
The raven-haired wizard tensed at her words, and instead became interested in seeing how much corn Pot Pie was willing to ingest (quite a lot actually Harry absently noted). He knew he was being a coward, but honestly? He didn't care too much. He had spent his entire youth defending the world against a maniacal wizard – that was enough bravery for a lifetime in Harry's opinion.
"Harry?" she enquired, her gentle tone hardening the longer he spent ignoring her. "I began suspecting it in fifth year," Hermione declared' her hazel eyes were smug with satisfaction at the choking noises Harry created. "I mean even if you did have that supposed 'crush' on Cho Chang it seemed quite forced, as if it was expected of you. Added onto the fact that you described your kiss with her as 'wet', I mean sure if she was crying then it would indeed be wet but for you to describe the entire thing as-"
"Shouldn't you be at work today, Hermione?" Harry interrupted quickly. He grimaced at the frown and glare levelled upon him from the pregnant witch.
"Nice try, Harry, but Draco is covering my shift for a couple of hours, and I'll cover his tomorrow. Are you going to answer me now?"
"No wonder Ron was worried about Draco if you've mentioned him to Ron as much as you have me," the wizard idly added, smirking slightly at the stunned expression on his best-friend's face, before growing worried at the gleam growing in her eyes.
"Oh Ron has always been oblivious to most things, but you too, Harry?" she questioned softly 'patronisingly' "Draco would never date me-"
"Because you're Muggleborn," he supplied knowingly, an annoyed frown marring his face whilst he did so.
"You're wrong actually," Hermione informed him, eyes sparkling so reminiscent of the late Albus Dumbledore's that Harry actually had to blink a couple of times in shock. "Draco isn't blinded by his childhood prejudices any longer, he treats everyone equally regardless of their status and magical ability."
"I find that difficult to believe," Harry scoffed, but even to him it sounded forced. He focused his emerald orbs upon Pot Pie, as she tottered across the hay-strewn ground intently searching for more corn.
"It's true. I know you haven't really paid much attention to The Quibbler, but Draco has been doing a lot of great work for charities – most notably the O.M.C." Hermione stared incredulously at Harry when he remained impassive. "The Orphaned Muggle Charity, Harry! Honestly, I knew you threw yourself into your Healing career but this is ridiculous! Also, the modified S.P.E.W where Elves are freed from abusive ownerships."
"So he's tamed you on that front then?" Harry smirked teasingly, rubbing his arm when it was hit violently.
"I'm being serious Harry!" Hermione grouched.
"Fine, Draco has done a lot of great work recently and I'm a hermit. I've understood, can we move on now? You mentioned that Draco isn't interested in you, but it's not because he dislikes Muggleborns."
"I said anyone of blood status actually," she corrected, ignoring how Harry rolled his eyes at her. "But essentially yes. Draco isn't interested in me because he's gay. It's quite simple, I can't see why no-one else saw it actually."
'Gay! He's gay, I can't believe it…Well actually I can. He's gay though – he likes men, he could like me…No! That body though, the beautiful blonde hair that shines almost silver in the light, and those arse-cheeks just… Don't think things like that, he can never be mine! He sounds like a great person though. No! If I just talked to him… NO! He probably hates me still, if only-'
"Harry?" Hermione's voice roused said wizard from his thoughts, and he locked his eyes questioningly onto hers. "You can do what you want now."
"I – I don't understand what you are talking about 'Mione." the wizard attempted to say but was cut off by his friend.
"You can go after Draco now-"
"I'm not interested in Draco!" he vehemently denied, though his mind was in much disagreement with his mouth.
"Don't insult my intelligence," Hermione immediately replied, glaring full-force at him now. "Ever since we began this conversation you have only referred to him as 'Draco' not 'Malfoy' like you previously did at school. Regardless of that, I think my biggest indicator was you practically stalking him in sixth year."
"I was following him because I thought he was a Death Eater – which he was if you don't remember!" Harry justified, attempting to force down the blush which was threatening to flame up his face. His brown-haired friend increased the intensity of her glare. 'Oh Merlin, I haven't seen that glare since Ron told her that food was the most important thing in his entire life. It was amusing back then, now – not so much.'
"He was pardoned of his crimes," she frigidly told the wizard, "Which you should know about since you were the one who fought tooth and nail to set him free, and do I even need to remind you what a mess you were during that time?" 'Oh Jesus, don't remind me,' he internally groaned, and strangely Hermione understood the impact that comment affected him, so instead dryly added. "Trailing after a suspected Death Eater does not entail gluing one's eyes to said suspect's arse anyway."
Harry couldn't help the blush which did in fact turn his face red this time. "I – Her – Hermione, that doesn't mean anything, I've grown up since then. I've moved on."
"I don't seem to believe that," she murmured, and settled her warm brown eyes on her friend. "Whenever you mentioned his name you smiled to yourself. I haven't seen that smile since we were in first-year. It was so carefree." 'What? I smile at his name? I shouldn't though, I mean he's an ex-Death Eater and I'm the Boy-Who-Lived, I can't do it...But I so want to.' "You can live your life now." she stated softly.
"What of society, Hermione?" he asked her bitterly and sighing in defeat. "They all have expectations of me. They wanted me to become an Auror and when I didn't they blew up in my face! Why can't they leave me alone! They would never allow me to even think of entering a relationship with Draco!"
"They may have disliked you for becoming a Healer, but the wards Bill put up stopped you from receiving the Howlers and your deal with Luna and other editors prevented them from printing anything too heinous. Hell, if you give them one interview a year then they promised not to print anything about you!"
"That's beside the point, Hermione! Being a Healer and dating Draco are completely different things. If I date him then they'll attack him too, they'll say that I've been cursed and they won't let him live peacefully no matter how much he has done for the world. The fact is they'll never let their precious Saviour date Draco Malfoy." He passionately cried and thrust his hands through his raven locks.
"You can live your life the way you want to, Harry! Ignore the papers, ignore your fans, ignore everyone else. You are the one who is preventing your own happiness, not society. Stop blaming everyone else and get your head out of your butt!"
"They'll accuse him despite that though, and he shouldn't have to go through anything terrible ever again, not after Lucius." 'Oh Circe, his eyes when the news reached him, and what the moronic prophet were spewing. I can't let him face that again.'
His eyes must have portrayed his pain, for Hermione merely smiled at the wizard, which offered little comfort for the man. "But you admit that you do have feelings for him?" she asked, and Harry inwardly groaned. "Of course you do, my instincts on these things are rarely wrong. You can be happy Harry, just stop being a coward," she told him, dusting some cat-fur from her beige-robes whilst she did so, and Harry was quite sure that he heard her quietly mutter something under her breath.
Harry turned to ask Hermione what exactly she meant with her last comment, but she wasn't there any longer.
'He'll never feel the same,' his inner voice reasoned, even though it caused the pain, which he had grown familiar with over the years, to flare into being once more. 'What's the point of getting excited over it? It will only disappoint me in the end. I can never be with him.'
Draco smiled at the scene before him; the beautiful tiled floor in various hues of brown shone warmly from the rays of the rising sun, which flitted through the windows overhead. His fingers idly traced the intricacies of the wooden panelling beside the door, and the smile stretched his face further. The sheer joyous appearance of this place always seems to brighten his mood for a while.
'Perhaps,' the man thought, strolling the familiar route towards the sitting room, 'It is because my father never stepped foot into this place, this was (for all intents and purposes) the Country Manor for the Blacks, and only those of the most ancient and noble blood could enter it,'
A small frown marred the blonde's face at that thought, he had to admit that the wards were slightly draconian. 'But then again, the family motto for the Blacks has always been 'always pure', so it is quite understandable.' However he had to be slightly annoyed at the fact that Hermione would never see this place, which would most probably not bother her too much except for that fact that the manor garden was the only place in Britain where the English Long-haired Pegasi bred.
'It may be best if she never discovers that little fact, but if she found out and I never told her then she would hate me, and if I told her she might think I'm taunting her due to her blood status.' the blonde shook those thoughts away, he shouldn't bother worrying about these things whilst visiting his mother.
Amused, he thought: 'The Elves have changed the flowers...again,' He eyed the vivid magenta blossoms, which he thought came from Brazil, with an appraising eye. As he walked towards the comfortable sitting-room he recalled some of the other flowers which the Elves had previously - zealously - decorated the Manor with. 'First it was Narcissus, then Baby Romantica, then Asiatic Lilies, then Moth Orchids, and now Bougen, no, Bougainvillea. Honestly, the Elves are obsessed.'
"Draco," his mother's soft voice called and the man in question smiled widely at her. "It is such a delight to see you again," she continued, and Draco only shook his head gently at the woman's words. 'I see her every week,' he thought, whilst moving swiftly toward the ageing (yet still beautiful) woman.
"Mother," the man greeted happily and crouched beside her chair to press a loving kiss to her cheek. "It is lovely to see you also; I trust that you have been well? Your cough has not returned?" Draco asked her, hoping desperately that the most cherished woman in his life was not ill once more.
With a smile, she informed her son that she was in good health, and the blonde man released a relieved breath he didn't even know he was holding. "That is wonderful to hear, wonderful," he breathed, whilst seating himself in an elegantly-detailed French salon chair. "Have you been out recently? You seem to be happier than usual," he commented, after taking in her rosy complexion and contented demeanour.
"Can a mother not be happy to see her only son?" she questioned before a delighted laugh escaped her throat. "No, but you are correct; I went to Diagon last morning and came across the most delightful news," she exclaimed and her child could not help but to become intrigued; after all, little to nothing could excite his mother so. "Tell me, have you seen Mrs. Weasley nee Granger recently?" she asked; her blue eyes danced merrily.
"I saw her only yesterday morning," he replied with a small frown. "She asked me to cover her morning-shift at the department, in return for her relieving mine today. Why has something happened to her?" he asked, the worry evident in his tone, 'Hermione has grown to become – dare I say it? A dear friend to me. We're not bosom-buddies, no, but our relationship is more than mere acquaintances, and dammit to Azkaban! I will not let her be harmed in any way shape or form!'
"Oh Draco, do not fret so," Narcissa chuckled out, "There is nothing wrong with her, in fact, she is positively radiant." the blonde woman's smile widened; Draco focused on her twitching hands, unsurprised that she was performing her favourite past-time – needle-work - but when he actually focused on what she was making his eyes widened. Tiny pegasi stitched along the edge of a small blanket. "Yes, she is pregnant, dear. Is it not brilliant news?" the woman murmured upon seeing the look of understanding upon her son's face.
"Merlin, she must think I'm the biggest prat in the world!" Draco moaned, burying his face into his hands. "I saw her at lunch yesterday to switch shifts and I didn't say anything! She must think I'm the most insensitive wix ever; how can I make it up to her, Mother?"
"Draco, you are being an idiot. You are just like Severus sometimes, do you know that? Worrying over the most trivial of things," the woman chided, and despite the wonderful feeling that bloomed in his chest at being compared to his pseudo-father, Draco couldn't help but grow agitated at his mother's blasé tone.
Before he could voice his frustration, however, his mother spoke once more.
"Mrs Weasley knows that you would no't have known about her news, so I do not know why you are worrying so. I expect she was in quite a rush to switch shifts, as she herself told me that she was running late, so she most likely never had the time to tell you; however this does not mean you are to do nothing," the blonde woman instructed; her eyes never leaving her son's, despite the task she had at hand. "As the Lord to the Malfoy name...No, as her friend, the next time you see her, you shall have a bouquet of the finest flowers, your warmest regards, and this present from myself," Narcissa told her son, indicating towards the blanket that she held in her hands.
"Of course, Mother; that makes a lot of sense," the blonde absently murmured, "Longbottom produces the best flowers, I do not know how he will feel selling them to me but only the best can do for Hermione."
"Draco," the witch warned whilst casting stern eyes upon her only son. "You are worrying for nought – again might I add. Mr. Longbottom is sure to sell to you because you have Mrs. Weasley's and Mr. Potter's respect." 'Harry Potter...respecting me? Where does Mother get these insane ideas from,' the wizard thought sadly to himself, nearly missing his Mother's next comments. "Speaking of Mr. Potter, have you read the gossip section from the Prophet recently dear?"
The wizard stated the negative; with growing worry, Draco noted that his Mother's eyes were shining with mirth, as she handed him a crisply-folded copy of the newspaper; silver eyes flicked to the top of the page and saw that it was yesterday's edition. "Read it, Draco dear; it is positively delightful!"
Warily complying to his Mother's wishes, the man had to consciously restrain himself from gaping at the paper before him. 'This can't be true...there's no way that they would divorce; they were the 'Golden Couple' the fantasy of many little witches' dreams, there's no way,' he thought, whilst desperately attempting to quell the growing source of soaring satisfaction in his being, and the small amounts of hope niggling away at his heart.
"It is such good news, is it not Draco?" the witch declared; her son attempted to level an admonishing glare at her but couldn't summon enough genuine feeling to do so. "I love the quotes in there, Brown says that a passing wizard heard shouting through the open window. Apparently, Potter and the girl have apparently never been intimate togethe; why do you think that is? She isn't exactly hard on the eyes, so I can only presume that it was something he did not want." 'She cannot honestly be implying that Harry Potter, Saviour of the world, is gay?' the man thought incredulously, yet his Mother continued to plough on. "And my favourite quote has to be the one about Potter shouting about his peni -"
Blushing furiously, Draco manage a scandalised 'Mother!' to burst from his lips, yet still his eyes sought the said quote whilst his mind imagined. Imagined how exactly Harry Potter's second wand looked, how it would feel in his hand - "I am not even going to entertain that idea Mother. That gossip rag hardly ever publishes the truth. Even if they are getting divorced, I highly doubt the veracity of the claims in the Prophet" he stated coldly, before standing to his feet. "It's been lovely to see you again, but I really must go, Hermione has given me a task to do – Merlin knows why." the blonde pressed a kiss to his Mother's smiling face, frowning as he heard her murmur something strange about 'The Plan'.
Another blow to his ego was presented with each word uttered by Mr. McAvoy, the most prestigious prosecution wizard the Ministry had under their employ. The blonde's wrists were bound (by ridiculously maniacal chains), to the armrests of the most mould-infested chair he had ever come across. His breeding was practically shuddering at the thought of who exactly had sat on this chair previously, and how the actual piece of rigid furniture had attained some of its stains.
Draco Malfoy was watching the memory of his trial, and stared stonily at his previous self as each word the prosecution said practically nailed his coffin air-tight. He looked a mess, his hair 'pride and joy' that had once been meticulously cleaned every day was laying treatment as it lay limp and lifeless around his head. 'Perhaps embodying my spirit more than anything else could. I honestly do not know why Hermione wanted me to watch this again, I have already had to live through it once; there was no need to repeat the performance,'
A pitiful whine escaping his past self's throat, brought him back to the memory, and he smiled unwittingly at the cause – Harry Potter taking the stand. 'I suppose back then I really was terrified of what he would say, but to be fair I still hardly believe what he did,' the older Malfoy thought, watching as the 'sinfully beautiful' man cast his ' brilliant' emerald eyes across the assembled wizards.
"I would like to begin by stating how ashamed I am to be a part of the Wizarding World, a thought I've been harbouring ever since I was eleven, when I had just been introduced to it." Draco heard the Saviour speak, and watched as his past self's eyelids closed slowly in defeat. "I'm sure many of you are wondering why, and the answer is right before you. You expected a child, who had only known of his heritage and magic for four years to save you all from Voldemort, the darkest wizard to ever live. Added on to that, you decided to punish the children who fought on his side, children barely above the age of eighteen – some younger still." His eyes flashed quickly to Draco, and now that his head wasn't clouded with resignation, he thought he saw concern bubbling in those emerald depths.
"Children who had no choice but to fight for Voldemort, children who were forced by their parents to become cold-blooded killers. And that is what I am ashamed of, ashamed that children had to fight your war," The Potter concluded, frigid emerald eyes sweeping across the courtroom before softening slightly upon the sight of Draco.
"Mr Potter if we could perhaps start the questioning," the nasal tones of McAvoy caused both the past and future Draco's to grit their teeth, and upon closer inspection it seemed as if Harry did also. 'He can't be that annoyed surely?'
"By all means," the eighteen-year-old charmingly agreed, as he placed his hands upon the desk in front of him, and smiled at those assembled in the court. However now that the blonde had a clear head, he could see (from experience of hiding his emotions behind a mask for the majority of his life) that the smile was faked. McAvoy beamed back, and Draco thought he resembled a slimy, little toad.
"Where were you on the 20th June 1997?" the prosecution questioned, and Draco could see his memory-self cringe behind the mask.
"I was atop the Astronomy Tower, stupefied under my Invisibility Cloak," was the strained reply, and Draco could see the Potter forcibly swallow.
"What happened whilst you were there? Who stupefied you? What did you see?"
"Which question would you like answered first Mr. McAvoy?" Potter smirked, as McAvoy stuttered out 'the second one' with obvious embarrassment. "Professor Dumbledore stupefied me."
"And why did he do that?" McAvoy asked, as he began pacing in front of Harry whilst sneering at the chained form of Draco.
"I couldn't really say Mr McAvoy, I mean who can profess the knowledge of being able to understand the actions of Albus Dumbledore," Harry answered charmingly, chuckling at the weak smiles sent his way. "But I can hazard a guess as to why. He didn't want me to stop what was going to happen."
"And what was that?"
"He didn't want me to stop Severus Snape killing him," came the simple reply, and Draco could clearly see the worried frown sent to his memory-self as he said it. Draco watched fascinated as Harry Potter's frown only deepened further, with every comment about the integrity of one Severs Snape. "Ladies, Gentlemen, Minister," Harry greeted with barely concealed hatred, causing memory-Draco's eyes to widen in confusion.
"We already established, merely five hours ago, that Severus Snape has been exonerated of all crimes. I mean, I will gladly present all of the evidence once more if it will satisfy you, but in case you need reminding – any and I mean any malicious comment against Severus Snape is an insult against myself. That applies to the papers as well, Rita darling," he called to the vicious blonde viper in the gallery, "because that my dear is called slander which I'm sure you are already well acquainted with," Harry's voice was saccharine sweet.
Draco smiled softly as he saw a tear roll down his memory's cheek; he remembered how it felt knowing that his Godfather and pseudo-father would be recognised after death, not as a Death Eater but as a hero. Relief, happiness, sadness. 'Why did she want me to see this again? I can only wonder, maybe she wanted to show me how much I've changed, how far I've grown.'
The sound of Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic snorting in amusement roused Draco from his thoughts, and with more perception he saw the wink the man sent the teenager. "Please get back on topic Mr. Potter otherwise you will be found to be in contempt of the court." Harry waved his hand at McAvoy in a gesture to continue, barely hiding the smirk which flitted across his face.
"Who else was there?" the prosecution asked, causing Harry to rub his eyes in concentration.
"Many people, Mr McAvoy. There was Fenrir Greyback, Bellatrix Lestrange and various other Death Eaters," Harry began to list, but was cut off by McAvoy.
"Was the accused there?" he asked, and Harry's emerald eyes locked onto the memory's silver ones, hiding multitudes of emotions Draco could not even begin to name. He nodded almost imperceptibly, before voicing his affirmative.
"And what was the accused doing there?"
"What is with your questions Mr. McAvoy, they are hardly specific are they? How am I supposed to know what is going on in another person's head, short of Legilimency ? Which I did not perform. However, Mr Malfoy's task was to kill Albus Dumbledore-"
Once again, Harry's voice was cut off by McAvoy's triumphant exclamation and the whisperings of the entire court. Frustrated 'Do they look panicked? No they couldn't, why would he-?' eyes swept throughout the room, and Harry's brow furrowed in concentration. "As I was saying Mr. McAvoy – no, you do not interrupt me," he added when the prosecution made to do just that. "Draco Malfoy's task was to kill Albus Dumbledore, a task which he did not fulfil because among many things he is not, is a murderer. Draco Malfoy did not kill Albus Dumbledore; Severus Snape did on Albus Dumbledore's orders. Albus Dumbledore offered Draco and his mother refuge from Voldemort, which was cruel of him to do so because he knew he could not fulfil those promises."
"Nevertheless Mr. Potter you cannot deny the evidence that Draco Malfoy willingly joined the Death Eaters-" he attempted to say, and Draco could feel his pulse quicken with tension, even though he knew how this would end.
"And that is where you are wrong Mr. McAvoy. Draco Malfoy did not join the Death Eaters willingly; he joined so he could save his mother's life. His father held Narcissa Malfoy's life over Draco Malfoy's head as a way to get his son on Voldemort's side. Everything he performed was to save his mother," Harry announced to the court, his position determined as he stared McAvoy down. "Can you imagine it?" he continued in a quieter tone,
"Knowing that if you did not join a mad-man then you would be the reason your mother died? Or if you refused him then your mother would be cursed, raped, murdered? Can you? Would you be able to live with yourself afterwards if something horrible happened to the person who birthed you because of you? If I was in the same position as Draco Malfoy, I would not hesitate to do the same." At this, the silence was deafening, and the tension almost palpable as they all stared at their saviour in shock and confusion.
"How many of you can say that? How many of you can say that you would sacrifice your life, your happiness so that another could live? Because Draco Malfoy effectively did what my mother, Lily Potter did. Draco sacrificed his chance of living to save his mother. My mother ensured I would live at the price of her own life. My mother died at the hands of Voldemort, and I am sure many of yours did too. So let me ask you, if you had the chance to stop that happening would you take it?" No-one dared to meet the teenager's gaze, and Draco thought he saw the hints of relief flooding those mesmerising emerald orbs.
"I did not think you could answer that. I do not blame Draco Malfoy, and like I said earlier I am ashamed of the Wizarding World; ashamed that you are all willing to let this teenager's life be wasted away for something he could not do."
"That sounds nice and pretty all dressed up like that, Mr. Potter, but-"
"But nothing!" Harry all but hissed at the man, and Draco could feel goosebumps rise on his skin at the two words. "You are acting just like Voldemort's Ministry workers Mr. McAvoy! No, don't you dare contradict me! Under Voldemort's rule, the Ministry performed shams of a trial – show trials. Hell, you were performing them in 1981 too! I was witness to a trial against a Muggleborn witch, who had supposedly 'stolen' a wand despite the well-known fact that the wand chooses its own master. She was offered no defence, had no chance to defend herself as the prosecution was at her throat practically every second, and had no opportunity to wash and clothe herself properly. So yes, you are just like one of Voldemort's men, and you most unequivocally should be ashamed," he ended his tirade; sneering down at the slimy man, eyes blazing in righteous anger.
Draco watched numbly as Harry strode away from the stand, and into the midst of the audience where from his position the blonde could see him angrily murmuring to Hermione. Onyx hair wild, emerald depths desperate and fists clenched tightly. 'Delicious, what I wouldn't give to – oh Merlin, I shouldn't be thinking about this still. He's been married for nearly six years...Liar, you know it's been exactly five years, 8 months and 19 days, admit it to yourself – after all if you can't trust yourself with that much, what can you trust yourself with? You've been counting the days ever since he married, ever since you died a little inside. Stop pretending to yourself, you are hopelessly in love with Harry flaming Potter!'
Draco watched as his memory-self's breath began to shorten as the verdict came in, he remembered that back then all he could see was his Mother's face as he believed it would be the last time he saw her. His memory-self never saw the anxiety spread across Harry's face as the sentence was passed, or see Harry's worried gaze settling on his dishevelled form – but now Draco did.'Ten years working in the Department of Magical Creatures – such a shame they didn't realise that I actually like animals.'
He watched as the relief and joy swept through Harry, making him look more lively 'gorgeous' than Draco had ever seen him. He watched as the happy eyes took in the collapsed and weeping form of his memory self, and frowned in worry. He watched as the owner of those eyes, swiftly crouched beside Draco's memory-self, and ensconced him in those warm, strong arms.
Draco felt the feeling of goosebumps intensify, until a pleasurable tingle was settling in his bones. He remembered those arms, and the soft reassurances whispered into his ears. That he would be okay, that he was safe, that he would never, ever go to Azkaban so long as he would live, that he deserved to be happy, to live a life, to gain a lover. The world was his and no-one could stop him from living his life. Draco watched intently as his memory-self clung to Harry's form, before visibly struggling to gain composure; he saw the caring smile directed at him from the most breathtaking teenager to live. And he saw how his mother finally escaped the thralls of the gaping audience to wrap her arms around his former self, and smiled a watery smile at the onyx-haired teen, who in return smiled awkwardly at her, ruffled a hand through his hair and left.
Draco felt the blush redden his cheeks as he watched how he had pathetically held onto a man who was way out of his league, Merlin, he wasn't even in the park to begin with (despite what his Mother insinuated). He couldn't even reprimand himself for his previous self's actions, as they were that embarrassing; it was true that he never wanted to relive his trial because of how he thought it would end, but he also vowed never to remember the shameless way he behaved, as it was merely too mortifying.
)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))
Trembling feet landed upon the plush carpet, of the modest apartment he owned amidst Muggle London, whilst the pensieve was innocently perching upon the low coffee table to his left, 'And that was only the first memory, she gave me three others, and she listed their order; why is she doing this to me?' the blonde miserably thought to himself, knowing that the witch would somehow discover if he had not complied to her demands. 'She asked me to cover her shift yesterday for a free today, what was she wanting? I thought we had moved past the childish torture sessions.'
Running a shaking hand through fine strands of silky blonde hair, Draco Malfoy's expression turned to one of determination. 'I will do this, if only to appease my own curiosity,' the man thought, as he took a deep breath and plunged his face back into the silvery depths of the liquid below. Head spinning, stomach lurching, the blonde landed upon the unmistakable cobblestones of Diagon Alley.
The sun shined high overhead, 'almost midday then', whilst the bustling inhabitants of the wizarding street blazed from the alien heat they were receiving, after the blustery, freezing mornings of the weeks previous. It wasn't hard to spot where Hermione was, since most of the other peoples' gazes were locked onto her and the 'ravishable' form of Harry Potter.
Their arms were linked, heads bent close together whilst they whispered lowly, and even though the sight was common from the affectionate friendship they both shared, the blonde had to swallow his jealousy at seeing them together. He heard the gibberish being spouted from their mouths, and knew that one of them 'Hermione most likely' had cast the necessary privacy precautions, but as he was watching the memory courtesy of said 'annoying' witch, he easily slipped alongside the two.
"-trying to get the two of us together Hermione! It's not going to happen, he just doesn't like me like that!" the blonde heard Harry insist, attempting to ignore the flaring hope inside his chest.
"And if you believe that Harry, then you're the most dimwitted person I know for a fact that he does like you," the witch attempted to argue back, but was cut off by the irate wizard.
"Hermione, I love you like a sister, an annoying, nagging, older sister, but could you please just drop it?" Draco watched as she sighed in resignation, yet he also saw the determined gaze she sent his way when he wasn't looking. Harry seemed oblivious however, as he glanced around the Alley, and turned back to his friend. "Hermione, I'm just off to Flourish and Blotts to see if the newest release of Healer Monthly is out, will you be okay what with the sprog and all." He pointedly looked at her stomach, and she smiled fondly at him.
"I'll be fine Harry, go on and read your guilty pleasure," she said, laughing at the shocked 'horrified' look on his face. "Honestly, I don't like to toot my own horn here, but I'm the smartest witch of my age, and you are an open book."
"Hey!" he shouted with incredulity, and she just smirked.
"I'm saying nothing, but just so you know Mr. November has a very fine arse, actually he's quite similar to Drac-"
"Shut up!" he hissed at her, before stalking off in the other direction. Fighting the urge to follow after the 'adorable' sulking man, (as the innuendo which had been implied was almost too much to bear, and the blonde couldn't now not know what the Potter was actually buying), the Malfoy instead dogged his friend's footsteps.
And because he was following her, he could see how she was too busy smiling at her stomach to notice the all too familiar woman, until it was too late. "Oh, Ms. Malfoy! I'm terribly sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going at all, here, let me help you!" Hermione gushed, whilst hurriedly handing over a Twilfit and Tattings bag. "Are you okay?"
And Draco had to give credit to his Mother, who hadn't even seemed to misplace one single hair on her head in the whole debacle, and merely smiled at the flustered young witch before her. "I am fine, thank you, Mrs. Weasley. Thank you for your assistance," Narcissa said, however the warmth of her tone, belied the coldness of the words. "Are you also well, Mrs. Weasley? You seem quite unlike yourself."
"I'm pregnant!" she declared loudly, before slapping her hands over her mouth. "I wasn't meant to tell anyone yet," she quietly murmured, but beamed at the older woman, who was returning her smile. "but I'm just so happy about it! Pregnant, me."
"I remember when I first discovered I was pregnant with Draco, I wanted to tell everyone too, though Lucius was against the idea," she added as an after-thought, and Draco felt his heart constrict at his Mother's words. 'The amount of pain he put my Mother through,' "Severus was very supportive, of course. He was a very – thoughtful – man."
"Yes, Professor Snape was a great man," Hermione softly said, "however I cannot claim to have known him as well as either you or Draco, but I know that he was very accommodating towards Draco's inclinations," Hermione diplomatically stated, carefully broaching a subject that the wizard in question did not want to be breached – at all.
"And what exactly are you attempting to imply about my son?" the Malfoy woman frigidly asked, her eyes glacially cold as they slowly blinked.
"Just his infatuation towards my best-friend," she simply explained, before frowning shrewdly at the other woman. "and said best-friend's cowardly nature, by not admitting his amorous feelings towards said son six years ago, due to his idiotic notion of being rejected, and hurting said son. As if Draco wouldn't want him, stupid boy," she softly said, before beaming at Narcissa. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"Of course I do," the blonde woman loftily replied, before narrowing her eyes upon the witch. "I take it you have a plan?"
"The Plan, and yes I do," Hermione corrected, before glancing at the Muggle wrist-watch she adamantly refused to remove. "I'm sorry, I must leave, I'm late for work, but I'll owl you the details later," she called in reply, before hurriedly running in the opposite direction.
Gasping for breath, Draco sank to the floor of his living-room. He could hardly believe what he had just witnessed, the things which had been alluded to. 'They made no sense, and bore no credible basis, they are just the whims of two witches,' the blonde thought to himself, and with that thought firmly in mind, the Malfoy dived into Hermione's penultimate memory. It certainly wasn't what he was expecting.
The brown-haired witch was, to put it mildly, in the middle of a disaster zone. Tousled clothes were everywhere the eye could see; a pair of crumpled cream, pyjama-bottoms on the bed, a pair of grey socks hooked over the post on the iron headboard, an unmistakable red jumper flung haphazardly across the floor. 'Good Merlin, it's Weasley and Hermione's room, please, please, please tell me that Weasley has just gone to work and isn't naked in the bedroom,' Draco pleaded with himself, 'I think I may have to burn my eyes if that is the case.'
"Malfoy," 'Wait? What?' Hermione quickly whispered, and the blonde wizard saw that she was talking to her mirror. 'Has she finally lost it? I mean when she was talking the Crups into not biting people, I thought she was insane, but-' "I haven't much time, since Harry and I are going to Diagon Alley in a couple of minutes. Just know that what I've shown you, and what I am going to show you is for your own benefit. Merlin knows that Harry won't do this himself, and I'm only hoping that your sneakiness and cunning are going to take centre-stage."
"What I'm about to show you, is a breach in Harry's trust, despite him not remembering our conversation," she explained, and Malfoy could feel his head spinning in the surreality of the situation. "Harry will never tell you this, unless he is pushed, so just think of me as a helping friend (which I am). So I'm sorry, but you're going to have to initiate the contact if you ever want a relationship with him. You've got to know that Harry is very insecure with himself. He doesn't think he should impose himself upon anyone, which is the reason why he married Ginny, well, I don't need to tell you anything else-" 'Yes, you bloody do!' "since the next memory will explain itself. Just remember Draco, you are a Slytherin, no, forget that, you are a Malfoy, and what a Malfoy wants, a Mafloy gets."
And before Draco could even fully comprehend what she had said, she hurried from the room, leaving him once again on the floor of his apartment. "Just what the fucking hell is wrong with her!" he screamed into his silent home. "None of this makes any sense, just why is she doing this?" 'For you. She said that she is doing it for you and Harry,' some hopeful part of himself attempted to reason, but he quickly shot it down. 'There is no Harry and I, and never shall be, and I'll prove it.'
So, for the final time that day, the blonde stuck his head back into the pensieve, holding his breath through the suffocating travel, before landing with disorientation upon hard, worn floorboards in a house with no straight edges – anywhere. His breeding urged him to sneer at the sight around him, as he soon realised the floor was the floor to a house, a home. However Draco just couldn't bring himself to criticise the building, as its mere appearance proved there were such things as sentimental value.
Certain parts of the wood were worn to a pale, scratched surface as if someone had stood in that same spot on many occasions, whilst the kitchen surfaces (for that was where the blonde realised he was) were spotless of any dirt, yet held certain loving finishes, like the tiny child-made mosaic tile sitting in place of a regular cream one.
'Where is she?' the Malfoy thought to himself, quickly glancing around the empty kitchen for the meddling Muggleborn witch, who was Hermione Weasley. A flash of infamous wild, curled brown hair came from his left, and the blonde saw the woman 'friend' hovering in the doorway of the kitchen, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. 'What is she worried about?' Draco thought, staring in the same direction as the memory-witch, and his breath escaped him.
Harry Potter, a haggard Harry Potter. His untameable onyx hair, appeared to have gained its own sentience as it was tangled everywhere, whilst his emerald eyes were dull and tired, surrounded by the backdrop of vicious-looking, purple bags. 'Just what happened to him?' The younger Potter, staggered into the kitchen, pulled out a chair, and heavily sank into it, before burying his head into his hands. Timidly approaching the other man, (even though he knew Harry couldn't see him), he stretched out a pale hand towards Harry's shoulder, however the approach of Hermione stopped him at the last moment.
"Harry," Hermione greeted, the worry obvious in her voice as she took the seat beside him and grasped his hand tightly. "Have you been drinking?"
"Hermione," a weary voice pleaded, "can we not talk of this please?" Potter raised his red-rimmed eyes to Hermione's resolute ones and groaned softly. Draco also recognised the look in her eyes and knew that she wasn't going to back down.
"You have to talk about it sometime," Hermione confronted him gently, "I saw you, Harry," Hermione told him, releasing his hand as he pulled away. "You sneaked bottles of firewhiskey upstairs this morning."
"Well then why bother asking me if you already know," Harry sneered cruelly.
Hermione flinched ever-so-slightly at the expression on his face and Draco's respect for her only increased further as he saw the witch straighten her spin and continue her questioning. "Harry, this isn't like you. This is the drink talking."
"I...I.." Harry faltered, staring searchingly into Hermione's face before crumbling. "I'm so sorry, 'Mione," he whispered, fiddling with the cuff of his shirt. "I shouldn't have snapped at you like that," Hermione waved his apology away and stared meaningfully at him. "I'm just worried about the trials," Harry admitted quietly, "What if I can't convince the jury that Snape and Draco are innocent?"
Draco's heart began thudding loudly in his chest. Harry Potter was worried about him.
"Don't be silly, Harry!" Hermione retorted with a fond smile of exasperation, "There's no way the jury will find them guilty with the defense you have planned. You forget that I've heard you practising your speeches."
Harry stared at her, lost. "I can't leave him there, Hermione," Harry stared brokenly at his fingers, "I can't let him rot in Azkaban for something that isn't his fault. Especially since his father killed himself there…" Harry trailed off and Draco thought his still-beating heart had been ripped out of his chest, and repeatedly stomped into the dirt.
'Don't think of it,' he instructed himself, gripping at his robes to where his pained heart was. 'He wasn't your father, not really. He never deserved the right to be called that. That right was reserved for Severus, and Severus only. Be glad that Lucius isn't related to your name any longer, his name has been purged from the tree. Don't think of him, don't think of him, don't think-'
"-don't do it, Harry." Draco must have momentarily missed a few seconds of conversation because when he returned his focus, he saw Harry taking a swig from a bottle of firewhiskey that wasn't there a few moments before.
"Please leave me alone, 'Mione," Harry pleaded softly, taking another desperate swig. "The trial is on Monday, and I can't stop thinking about it. I'm psyching myself out and I can't let myself fuck it up. Too much is riding on it."
"I do understand that Harry, but drinking heavily isn't the answer. If the worst should happen and Malfoy is imprisoned then that won't be your fault."
"Don't say that, Mione," Harry whined, his breathing harsh. "Draco Malfoy does not deserve to be in Azkaban!"
Hermione glanced wryly at him. "You do realise that you're always talking about him. Sometimes it seems as if he is the only thing you care about!"
"That's because he is!" Harry exclaimed in frustration, before he realised exactly what he said and gasped in futility.
The blonde in question felt as if his breath had been stolen from him, and his heart suspended by those five words issued from Harry's sinful mouth.
"I just meant that he is innocent, and yet he is being criminalised and imprisoned, and he does not deserve it! He may not be the nicest of people to some, but I lov – I mean he just doesn't deserve this!" '
W-What? What was he going to say? No-no it can't be, it can't be,'
"What were you going to say?" Draco almost forgot Hermione was there until she echoed his own thoughts. Harry was now shaking his head insistently and refusing to answer any more questions. "Were you going to say that you love Malfoy?" Hermione pressed on relentlessly. "What about Ginny? Don't you love her?" the bushy-haired witch asked bluntly.
"Of course I do!" Harry obviously attempted to sound confident, but even to Draco's ears it sounded weak and, from the look on Hermione's face, she knew it too.
"Yes, but are you in love with her?"
Harry tilted his head in confusion, a look of pure concentrated bewilderment painted across his face. "I - I -," he faltered, "I just don't know."
'What, what, what?! He wasn't in love with the Weaslette? Why did he marry her then? Just what-'
Then a few seconds later. "I do love Ginny. I do. She's beautiful, vivacious, strong, what's not to love?"
"I don't know, Harry. If you're not sure, then-"
"I am sure!" Harry interrupted his friend, "Ginny is the only woman I could ever love!" He reached for the bottle abandoned on the table.
A sly expression flashed across Hermione's face but Harry was too busy drinking his firewhiskey to spot it. "What about men?" She asked suddenly, startling Hary into choking on his drink.
"What?" Harry choked out, red in the face; his eyes watering.
"What about men? If Ginny is the only woman you could ever love then is Malfoy the only man you could ever love?"
'Oh Merlin, oh Merlin, oh Merlin,' Draco desperately chanted to himself, his heart pounding loudly in his ears as he waited desperately for Harry's response.
Harry stared dumbfoundedly at the bushy-haired witch. His mouth agape and emerald eyes wide with shock. Draco thought he look adorable.
"It's okay if you're bisexual, Harry," she said matter-of-factly. "But maybe you're not ready to face it," She stood from the chair and kissed him chastely on the cheek. "Please don't drink any more, Harry," she said softly, whilst deftly plucking the bottle of firewhiskey from his hands. "Just think about what I've said, and try to remember it in the morning."
And with those parting words, the witch flounced from the room and Draco abruptly found himself once more on the floor of his apartment.
'Just what the ever fucking Merlin!'
27th May 2004
With a forlorn glance, Harry Potter stubbed the butt of his cigarette out on the stone window ledge. Blowing the remnants of the smoke from his mouth, he smoothed his Healer's uniform so that no wrinkles remained from his pathetic slump against the south wall of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.
He wasn't depressed, or suffering from other mental troubles aside from tiredness. Not physical tiredness, but emotional, mental tiredness. If it wasn't the hordes of regular passers-by questioning the reason for the divorce, it was his own mind supplying countless domestic and passionate fantasies of a certain blonde, all thanks to Hermione's insinuations.
Christ, he just wanted to have some peace and quiet, from both strangers and himself. If only he didn't have to think.
The one thing he couldn't complain about, however, was the blessed silence from his annoyingly well-meaning best friend, who had thankfully stopped harping on about the possibility of Draco Malfoy ever being interested in him after the first week.
That didn't stop her talking about him though.
"Oh yes, and did you hear that Draco just gave the O.M.C another thousand galleons? Isn't he just a compassionate man."
The Orphaned Muggle Charity, Harry discovered, was founded in November 1998 by Andromeda Tonks and Narcissa Malfoy for parentless Muggle children. Apparently, the two estranged sisters had reconciled following the end of the war. Then, when Lucius committed suicide in February the following year, the two became even closer.
"And then just the other day, he found a herd of stray unicorns and the youngest was injured badly. And guess what? The mother allowed him to heal the foal! Isn't that astounding?"
On further examination, that was rather an astounding moment, considering unicorns only allowed those who were pure of heart, or virginal, in their presence, Harry refused to think which one of those Draco Malfoy was.
"Yes, he brought me a bouquet of baby's breath and white narcissus just the other day. He said that 'a child born of you and Weasley will undoubtedly be of sound mind, have kindness worthy of a saint, and an unhealthy obsession with food!'" Cue tinkling laugh. "Isn't he a funny chap?"
Gods, it was enough to drive any sane man off the edge. This was absolutely not down to the inordinate amount of jealousy he felt at not being the one to spend so much time with Draco Malfoy.
"Of course, the poor thing hasn't found himself a good man. He's too hung up on this one chap who refuses to notice how much Draco likes him. Merlin, and I thought Ron was thick!"
If he was being honest with himself, it was that comment from yesterday that was the real reason why his favourite shirt was torn to shreds. And the reason his room was trashed beyond recognition, not because Crookshanks had decided to make Harry's house his new cat-scratcher.
Besides, wasn't Hermione trying to sail the 'Harry and Draco forever' ship off to sea? So what was with this 'bastard of a' chap who hadstolen Draco's heart 'from me?' Gods, he could practically hear Hermione telling him that he had left it too late 'and that I'm a coward.'
Withholding a groan of disgust, he vanished the dog-end, roughly dragged his hand through his bedraggled hair, and strode back inside St Mungos. Evading the crowds with practised ease, he hurried into the East wing of the first floor (expertly avoiding a floating gurney holding a man with a particularly nasty bite-wound), to where the elevators stood waiting.
Glaring mildly at the hordes of patients and visitors crowding the elevators 'it clearly states 'Staff and Equipment Only' you daft sods, he viciously opened the staircase door instead of doing what he really wanted to do (which was to shout and scream at everyone) and took to the stairs. 'Running up four flights isn't particularly fun,' he thought, as he idly listened to the sound of his breathing, and his heels slapping the steps, echo from the bare walls.
"Ah, there you are, Potter!" declared the familiar voice of the Healer-in-Charge – Catriona Zabini – as he arrived on the ward. Harry could only watch with fond amusement as her buxom figure weaved through the barrage of people cluttering her ward, whilst shooting them glares as she passed. "You're needed in bed fifteen, nineteen, and twenty-two. Here are the files; off you pop!"
Suddenly, Harry's arms were full of manila folders, and he watched with an exasperated look as his boss effectively parted the crowds on her 'bloody lethal' five-inch crimson heels; leaving a cloud of expensive perfume in her wake.
Smiling softly, he pushed his worries to the furthest darkest corners of his mind, and immersed himself in the world which was his second love.
Tilting his head to read the note fixed to the top file, his smile only grew wider.
Bed fifteen first, Potter. Spell damage very close to the unmentionables - the poor lad's in a lot of discomfort. Also,he's a friend of Blaise's, and a very, very, whiny one at that too. CZ
Flicking to the most recent notes, he allowed himself a grimace of sympathy. 'Diffindo to the lower back, no wonder the poor bloke's whining.' Well, at least he knew how to treat the wound. 'Yes, of course you do, you couldn't let another Draco Malfoy happen again, could you?'
Ignoring his guilt-ridden thoughts, he pulled a jar of dittany from the stock cupboard, made his way to bed fifteen, and came face-to-face with the bane of his (current) existence. "Hermione? What are you doing here? Are you hurt, how's the baby?" the questions flew from his tongue, as a pool of dread wormed its way through his gut, telling him that something bad was about to happen. And Jesus, did he trust his instincts.
The smile on his bushy-haired friend's face was one that set Harry's teeth on edge, and his stomach clenched painfully at the sight. "Oh no, I'm perfectly fine, Harry. It's a…colleague of mine, you see? We were investigating a man who was collecting blast-ended-skrewts-"
Harry paled. "Gods, it wasn't Hagrid, was it?"
That tinkling laugh (which only sounded when the crafty witch was planning something) sounded throughout the room, and a rather deep 'bloody hell, witch' sounded from bed fifteen. 'Why, does that sound familiar?'
"No, it wasn't Hagrid. But he didn't take too kindly to us, and hexed…my colleague when his back was turned," she frowned, and Harry matched it with vigour.
"Well, I'll just leave you to it. I don't want to offend his delicate sensibilities with my presence. Bye!" she declared before leaving oddly fast for a woman in her condition.
Withholding a sigh, the healer only shook his head at his friend's antics, and pulled the curtain aside. "Right now, Mr…" he trailed off, 'Gods, what's his name? Oh, but what a fine arse he has!'
Consulting the folder once again, his green eyes widened. "Oh, Jesus Merlin Christ, fuck me!"
Draco Malfoy thought he was about to die of mortification. Pure, simple, mortification. Not only had that bastard Rowan cursed him, but he had done it whilst his back was turned.. Added onto that, Hermione had stripped him bare halfway down his arse! In public. And prodded him with her wand to apparently 'remove the pain'.
Then, as if that wasn't enough,once they arrived at Mungo's, it was Blaise's mother who had looked him over with the brisk words of 'well, Draco, I knew of your predilections, but I didn't think you were such a voyeur'
Circe! He could practically hear the smirk in her voice. And all Hermione did was sit there and watch. However, unlike with Catriona, from Draco's position (lying on his front, propped up on his elbows) he could see the smirk on Hermione's face.
Fixing the patented Malfoy glare on the witch who claimed to be his friend didn't seem to be that effective, since she only smiled sweetly and fled so that she could snigger on the other side of the flimsy, pale-blue, curtain.
'Merlin, I will murder that woman someday,' he thought and tried to not to dwell too long on the indignation of baring his arse to the world. 'Oh, just who is she talking to now?!" He thought desperately.
"-He didn't take too kindly to us, and hexed…my colleague when his back was turned,"
Hermione's voice floated from outside and Draco scowled furiously.'And there she goes now, off to go tell the whole bloody department of my little escapade with Rowan, jolly good,' Planting his head firmly into the pillow, he absently remembered that it was impossible to smother yourself to death. 'Well, at least my arse isn't hurting; she's bloody good at that charm.'
A gentle 'swoosh' told him of the Healer's arrival, and he buried his head even further into the pillow. His blonde hair tickled his chin. 'I'm probably due a haircut soon.'
"Right now, Mr-" the deep voice that had been haunting his dreams since he was sixteen called into the room. 'Oh Merlin, what has she done?! Gods, what a cruel mistress she is!'
'But wait…did she not say that I was the one who had to take the initiative? Carpe diem and all that?' Draco thought idly, listening avidly as Harry Potter began to swear. 'And is that lust I here? Who knew he had such a filthy mouth?'
Twisting his body, he locked his eyes onto those darkened green eyes, 'Oh yes, that's definitely lust I see there,' and gave the man a winning smile. Satisfaction and hope swimming through him as the healer fidgeted on the spot.
"Do shut the curtain, Har… Healer Potter, it is terribly draughty, and you wouldn't want me to catch a chill, would you?" he asked loftily, 'and who cares, if I give his body a glance over? It's a terribly nice body too, what with those long legs, muscular arms, and gorgeous eyes.'
"O-of course, Dra-Mr Malfoy," thatwonderful voice replied, 'and who cares if those robes of his are very tight-fitting, I for one am not complaining.' "Hermione tells me that you encountered a collector of Blast-Ended-Skrewts."
"Yes, he was terribly rude," Draco agreed, smiling charmingly at him, but Harry's eyes were fixated on Draco's wounds, not his face. His expression was furious, and his eyes were dark with anger, as his left hand turned white against a jar of…dittany?
And then suddenly, it made sense. 'He's remembering our sixth-year, the sectumsempra curse, does he not know I forgave him for that? That I am grateful for it' Harry's jaw clenched.'Obviously not then.'
"At least, someone I knew had the decency of cursing me in a duel, though I don't suppose it was much of a duel," he mused aloud, and those intense eyes snapped to him. "I did throw the first curse after all. Of course I didn't know that you knew that spell, but I was trying to harm you, it wasn't as if I was innocent."
"Listen, Dra-Mr Malfoy, I never should have cast a spell I did not know the origins of or counter to. It was entirely my fault and-" the Healer rambled, and Draco could only smile at the nervousness that action held.
"Whilst, I agree that you never should have cast that spell, the blame lies not only with you," The blonde declared with his perfect elocution. And 'oh, bless him' the expression on Harry's face could only be described as 'adorable' confusion. Draco decided to explain. "I was your enemy who was actively acting against your cause. I initiated the fight, we are both to blame. I was fighting for a cause that I didn't believe in, I didn't want to succeed in my task, but I had to, and Gods I was so angry."
"Mr Malfoy, you don't have to explain yourself, I know where the blame lies."
"No you don't!" Draco shot back, glaring when Harry made to interrupt. "I was angry at myself, angry at Him, and angry at you, because you hadn't killed him, and if you had killed Him then I wouldn't have to help him." 'At least Harry looks suitably offended instead of a beaten puppy.'
"I was trying my best!" the blonde could almost picture the indignant expression on the man's face.
"And I know that now," the words were calm, and his eyes understanding. "But I was sixteen, with the weight of the world on my shoulders, no-one to turn to, and – this seems trivial in comparison – hopelessly in love with a boy who would barely look at me apart from with hatred."
"But that doesn't excuse my actions!" A loud noise rang in the room, much like a fist hitting the table.
Draco's pale blue eyes were levelled upon Harry. "I needed someone to blame, so when you followed me into that bathroom accusing me of cursing Bell, reminding me of my failures, of how I was killing my mother, I snapped, and I wanted you to leave me alone."
"But I hurt you!" his voice angry and shamed; Draco only smiled softly.
"You were a child loaded with too many expectations – including my own – feeling the loss of your parents and your godfather. Besides," he said blithely, "You didn't want to hurt me, not really."
"How did you know I didn't want to hurt you?" The man's mulish expression was ridiculous. 'So stubborn,'
"Because I saw your face. It wasn't the face of a cold-blooded killer, it was the face of a confused boy, and it was the betrayal in your eyes that told me you didn't intend to kill me. You were just going to stupefy me and send me to Dumbledore, weren't you?"
Flushed cheeks and a ducked head met this statement. 'Gods, he's so delicious.' "Am I that predictable?"
Draco couldn't help it, a chuckle escaped him, and he smiled a genuine smile at the man. "No, Harry, you are anything but unpredictable. You are noble, and that was the noble thing to do."
A smile lit the man's features, but the look in his eyes was determined. Sighing, Draco motioned the man forward so that he didn't have to crook his neck. Peering into those green eyes, he said three words which he meant with his entire being. "I forgive you."
Blazing anger. "You forgive me? I nearly killed you!"
"Gods, it's always déjà vu with you, isn't it, Potter?" he groaned, collapsing onto the bed like a drowning man. "I forgive you, and what's more, I thank you," mulishly, he continued before the Potter could interrupt. "I thank you, because you gave me purpose, no longer was I going to sit back and let Him win the war."
"Draco…" Harry's voice was shocked, proud, and reprimanding; Draco ignored him.
"I let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts, yes, and for that I am sorry. I can never repent for my sins. But in that bathroom you changed me, inspired me to do the right thing, so I planned. I allowed my mother to be free from His grasp, and then I foiled every plan of his I could."
Dawning realisation. "The snatchers, you lied to them. You said that you didn't recognise us when I know you did - I saw it in your eyes," the words were steadfast and sure.
Draco smiled, and inclined his head in agreement, and then continued. "I couldn't let them get you." 'And oh Gods, why is my voice catching?' "I tried to give them as little information as possible. It wasn't much help since He had other sources, but I tried. And the Room of Requirement," the blonde abandoned all pretenses of stoicism, as his vision blurred. 'Greg.' "He gave me a task of retrieving an object that would allow him to survive the battle; I couldn't allow him to get it… Oh Gods…" he mumbled into his arm, roughly wiping the tears away.
A smaller, calloused hand grasped his and he stared at the 'beautiful' face of the man he loved. "You don't have to justify your actions, Draco, you did that at your…trial," the hatred in his voice, telling the blonde that he hadn't forgiven the Ministry for that misdemeanour. "You are not a bad person."
'Bullshit!' "Greg's dead because of me! He shouldn't have been there, I should have…!" the words died as another sob racked his body, shame filling every pore as Harry rubbed circles into his shoulders.
"Gregory Goyle was a victim of war, he willingly became a Death Eater, and he was not forced," Harry stated neutrally. "Do not blame yourself for his death, Draco. He chose to fight, and he fell in the Battle. Just remember him as the innocent child you met him as."
Draco could only nod, and hold onto Harry's hand as if it were a lifeline until the tears subsided. "Sorry for being such a mess," he mumbled, reluctantly releasing his hold on the other man.
"Nonsense," Harry's tone was full of understanding and care, "Now I should probably heal you, shouldn't I? Otherwise Catriona'll grab me by the short and curlies and hang me from the ceiling," he joked, but they both knew the Zabini matriarch was all too capable of doing such an act.
"What's the damage?" the question said before he could think. "Hermione said that the curse had reached my, ahem, arse. Has it? Is my arse fine?" Shifting, he allowed his robe to slide further down, revealing even more of his derriere to the other man's view. Smirking to himself, Draco pushed his arse out further, and Harry certainly enjoyed the view if his gasp was anything to go by.
"It's perfectly fine, Draco. More than fine, perfe-" 'Perfect? Why thank you, Harry, I'm sure yours is even more so.' Hiding his mischievous grin in the pillow, Draco flinched as cold fingers delicately felt the wound. "Sorry," the word almost too quiet for him to hear, and the almost inaudible chanting of 'vulnera sanetur' sounded beautiful coming from Harry's lips.
Silence reigned for an unknown period of time, as Draco basked in Harry's presence and having all of his attention on him alone.
'Seize the bull by the horns, Draco. It's now or never.' Draco told himself firmly. 'Hermione wouldn't lie and those memories were more than convincing.'
Twisting on his elbows, Draco stared as Harry began to open the jar of dittany. "I heard that you divorced that Weasley girl," his words nonchalant, and Harry faltered in his movements and his surprised green eyes met Draco's burning blues.
Harry's voice was soft. "Yeah, we just didn't work out." Draco snorted lightly at the understatement, causing Harry to glare at him from underneath his lashes.
Draco just smiled unashamedly. "I'm sorry that she hurt you, but I'm not sorry you broke up," his words unrepentant as that 'adorably' confused face met his. "Weasley," Draco choked as Harry's cold hands began to rub 'bloody massage!' dittany into his back. "Oh gods, yes…" his moan was guttural and full of pure want as his blood began to flow southwards.
'And by Merlin, is that a grin I see on his face? Bloody tease!'
"You were saying?" Harry questioned, amusement clear in his words.
"Weasley, she wasn't right for you. She practically stalked you for seven years and she hero-worshipped you and slept around. Oh Merlin, do you really have to apply dittany like that? Gods…" Draco moaned, collapsing onto the pillow. "She just wasn't right for you."
"And I suppose someone who ignored me for seven years, hated me, and remained virginal is the person for me?" Harry's voice attempted neutrality, but was failing horribly as curiosity and hope fuelled it.
Draco nodded into his pillow. "Exactly, you need someone who compliments you. Someone who isn't afraid to argue with you. Someone who would never betray you and your vows."
"I think I know someone like that," Harry's voice was wistful, "But their heart belongs to another so I've been told."
"Oh," and Draco felt his heart turn to lead. 'What was Hermione thinking? She must have misread the signals,' "That's…That's too bad to hear."
A boyish grin that didn't meet his eyes spread across Harry's face, "Well, there's nothing I can do about it." And Gods, did Draco's heart constrict painfully at the hurt and resignation in his love's voice.
"Bullshit!" and the curse surprised even Draco himself, as Harry paused his ministrations. "You go and tell her what you feel; no-one in their right mind would turn you down! You're a wonderful person! You're kind, passionate, and powerful. You're also annoyingly stubborn, adorable, and so very fucking handsome! Only an idiot would choose someone else over you!"
A bitter laugh escaped Harry, and that band around Draco's heart only tightened further. "You don't mean that…"
"Yes." Draco turned so that Harry could see the truth in his eyes. "I do." And he smiled grimly as he saw those gorgeous green eyes widen and that devilish hand escape into those sinfully mussed hair.
Clearing his throat, Harry removed his hands from Draco's body. "Right, Mr Malfoy," and Harry's voice was brisk and professional. "We're all done now, you're free to go." He attempted a reassuring grin, but it was just false. "Should you feel any pain, please come back to St Mungo's. Good day."
And with those words, he fled, but not before casting a longing glance over his shoulder.
"For Merlin's sake, Granger's right. He is a coward," the blonde murmured, whilst pulling his robe back on. "But, he's never had a Malfoy after him. And what a Malfoy wants, he bloody well gets."
Harry ran to the nearest loo, ignoring his colleagues who watched him pass with concern painted on their faces. Slamming into the toilet door, he braced his hands against the sink, and stared at his flushed, horrified reflection. "Bloody fucking fuck!" he hissed, whilst yanking his glasses off, and splashing freezing water into his face.
'What was that? He's so different, so mature, but still so easy to anger, and Gods his arse was perfection! But what happened back there? Those words seemed so genuine; if I was kidding myself, I would say that he liked me, but Hermione said he longs for another. Gods, how nice is he really? To say such heartfelt words to cheer me up..'
Groaning, the world came back into focus as he placed his glasses back on. The sickening blue tiles mixing with the immaculate white paint to form one nauseating picture before his eyes. The sound of the door opening, had his wide 'when did they become so dark?' eyes meeting the shocked blues of Draco Malfoy. 'I can't deal with this.'
"Mr Malfoy," And gods, did his voice sound dark, 'I need to get out of here!' as he made to pass the blonde, but the hand gripping his elbow stopped him. "Is there something you needed?"
"Yes," came the smooth reply, and he couldn't help but watch with fascination as the blonde's adam's apple bobbed. "We need to talk."
Shaking his head, Harry pulled his hand from his grasp. "No we don't."
"Would you just listen to me, Potter!" Draco shouted, his breath coming in short pants as his face flushed 'deliciously' with anger. "We need to talk, resolve this, this tension between us!" he declared, gesticulating with his arms.
"There is no tension-"
"Bullshit! I hated you for five years before I realised what I felt for you wasn't hate," the blonde faltered, 'of course you hated me!' and Harry opened his mouth to voice this before Draco continued. "I didn't feel hate for you, it was jealousy, greed, possessiveness, want…"
'Wait, what?'
"I didn't hate you, dammit! I fancied you," 'This can't be happening…' "I wanted you to talk to me, laugh with me, spend time with me, but you didn't look at me with anything but loathing in your eyes, and it killed me! And then you put my father in Azkaban, and I hated myself because I still couldn't bring myself to hate you."
Harry felt as if his brain had shut down. Draco wanted him, since fifth year? "Draco…" And did his voice really have to sound so pleading? And those suspiciously bright blue orbs caught his.
"And Merlin, for some reason apart from the death of my mother, the other thing I feared the most was you finding out. Discovering that the feelings I harboured for you weren't hatred. I used to dream of your laughing face as you taunted me for my pathetic feelings."
Harry floundered for words. 'I wouldn't have laughed, I would have been confused, but then I would have been over the moon. All I ever wanted was his attention…'
"And when I saw you in that bathroom all those years ago, all I wanted was for you to save me, goddamnit!" he screamed, face flushing red with anger. "And you did, don't you see? You cursing me saved me from myself. I used my love for you to secretly work against Him."
"I know," Harry whispered, wiping his blurring vision with the heel of his palm. "You did so much, I can't imagine what you went through." But it was if Draco couldn't hear him,then again he must have been wanting to get this off his chest for years.
"And when I saw you in my manor, that stupid hex obscuring that beautiful face of yours, it felt as if my heart exploded. I couldn't let Him have you, all of my actions were to save you, I couldn't let you die! You must know that I never fought for Him… I wouldn't…not for Him."
And Merlin, did he look so beautiful but oh so tired. His blonde hair falling around his face like a halo, as he stared at his dragonhide boots. "Jesus Christ, Draco…" he murmured, closing the distance between the two of them and pulling him into his chest.
Draco stiffened at the contact, before collapsing into the warmth of Harry's arms. Although, due to Draco being a good couple of inches taller, it was Harry who was ensconced in Draco's arms. Not that either minded too much.
"I believe you," the Healer mumbled into Draco's chest. "Ever since the bathroom incident, I knew you didn't fight for Voldemort. I just never knew that you did so much against him. You are a good person, a great person in fact, and gods, you deserve so much. I don't know if I'm enough, am I enough?"
The blonde murmured something strangely akin to 'Potter, you idiot' before his shining blue eyes met his. "Of course you're good enough," he answered, whilst shaking his head fondly.
Smiling softly, Harry tentatively pressed his hands against the blonde's back, and after hearing a low moan, he continued his actions.
"Gods, Potter, do you secretly want to be a masseuse?" the blonde groaned"Stop it, Potter…Gods, just how do you do that?"
Feeling emboldened, Harry decided to ask a question he'd been meaning to ask for years. "Just tell me, Draco. Would you reject me if I told you I had feelings for you?"
Draco froze, his disbelieving stare meeting his own anxious one. 'Oh, well done, Potter, you've gone and blown…' And Harry's thoughts trailed off, as a hesitant kiss was pressed to the corner of his mouth. Bewildered, he glanced up at Draco's shaky smile. "D…Does that mean you accept my feelings?"
"You really are thick, aren't you, Potter?" the blonde laughed, before kissing him much more firmly. Teeth nibbled upon his lower lip, and Harry immediately let Draco's inquisitive tongue into his mouth. Gods, the feel of those pale fingers tugging at his hair, whilst Draco's firm length pressed into his stomach was pure bliss.
"Mmmm?" Harry pulled away, a sinful trail of saliva connecting them. "You're right, we do need to talk," the words dreamy, as he attempted to calm his beating heart. "I need to tell you how it was I came to feel about you, and how I tried to do right by you, but not now, eh? Maybe later?"
A coy smile stretched the blonde's face. "Are you asking me out on a date, Harry Potter?" Draco crooned his name as if it was a caress. 'Good gods…'
Harry nodded before his mind processed the question, as he dazedly took in the beaming face of the man that could beatify St Mungo's loo. "Would you, Draco Malfoy, do the honour of accompanying me on a date, tonight."
Needless to say, Harry Potter thought no more as Draco Malfoy thoroughly entranced him with the intricacies of his tongue.
Later that evening, Hermione Granger was joined by her new friends and conspirators, Narcissa Malfoy and Catriona Zabini, in her sitting room as they toasted the success of The Plan.
"Tell me, Hermione," Catriona enquired with a devilish grin, as she delicately held a glass of red wine in one hand and rested the other on her curled legs. Her lethal heels were lying haphazardly on the floor. "How exactly did Draco gain his wounds again?"
Hermione smiled wryly and took a small sip of the pumpkin juice she had been craving. "Well, it was the perfect opportunity, and they were driving me up the wall," she admitted unrepentantly.
Catriona all but cackled uproariously, and Hermione giggled whilst nervously casting a glance at Narcissa. The blonde witch raised an imperious eyebrow at the muggleborn witch. "I should be furious at you for injuring my son," she said softly, "but I somehow think he won't mind Potter kissing it better." She grinned wickedly at the women.
"Narcissa!" came the scandalised sound of the two shocked witches. "How outrageous!" The other sounds that night was the laughter and chatter of three delighted witches.
Ron, very wisely, made the strategic decision to hide in the bedroom the entire night.