AUTHOR'S NOTE: Written for the 2015 Harry Potter Rare Pair Fest on LJ. Will become the start of a series, eventually. :) Much Gratitude to Spades and ladyofsilverdawn (FF) for the extensive help betaing this fic. And a special thanks to Her Royal Goddess (FF) for Brit-picking this for me. This is my second Fest to participate in and I have had Great fun with both of them. I can't wait to see what you guys think. Enjoy!
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Life had not gone the way Draco had expected; though in light of the war and its outcome, he was not exactly surprised. His parents and he were spared Azkaban after the famous Harry Potter testified for them before the Wizengamot. He still wasn't even sure why Harry had done it. After all, the Malfoys and The Chosen One had never been on friendly terms; but he was determined to make the most of the second chance. His parents were under house arrest, but he was free to pursue further education or work. In light of the family's disgrace, however, no respectable pureblood wanted to be tied to the Malfoy family. Understandably, his previously arranged betrothal had been dissolved discreetly. So for all intents and purposes, he was a free wizard following the trial. But making something out of his second chance had been harder than anticipated.
Draco left the country, figuring he would have a better shot at success if he were away from the epicenter of the recent war. Travelling the world, he took a few odd jobs that used his skills, getting a taste for what he might like before he finally settled in Paris.
If Voldemort hadn't robbed him of his professor and godfather, Potions Master Severus Snape, he would have apprenticed under him. Instead, Draco found himself brewing beauty potions at some random apothecary. Everyday he was reminded of his Head of House and mourned for the brave, unparalleled man. He lasted three months before tossing in his stirring stick.
The Slytherin knew he was not cut out for competitive flying as a living, so Quidditch was out, and there were few other careers where his love of flying could be used to his advantage. Chasing down exotic birds for potions ingredients or wrangling dragons held no appeal for him. After eleven months, he returned home, more than a bit discouraged but still resolved to successfully start a new life.
He learned quickly that coming home had been a mistake. No one would see him for interviews if they knew who he was, and if he managed to get an interview under a false name, he was promptly thrown out or offered a job so menial even a house-elf might balk at the work. Just to avoid the magical world for a while, Draco had taken to staying in Snape's old home in Spinner's End. Since his godfather died with no family, he had named his godson heir to his small estate, but Draco could not bring himself to use Severus' money. The reminders within the former owner's home did nothing to help Draco's mood, but it offered him seclusion and quiet, which he needed.
He had taken to wearing muggle clothes and wandering around, observing the non-magical world. He considered approaching Potter, but knew his former classmate was in Auror training and had already done more than was required to help him out. He also learned the hard way that he couldn't rely on his old school friends either. Blaise had invited him out once or twice, only to call the evenings short when the attention grew too great. Many of his other peers were still in hiding with their families and resented Draco's freedom, such as it was, while others would not even bother to reply to his owl. Pansy had invited herself—on what she clearly decided was a date—perhaps thinking she had a chance now that Draco was no longer engaged. After all, even if the Malfoy's were disgraced, they were still wealthy. When Draco caught on and made it clear he had no interest in dating anyone, let alone marrying, Pansy was quick to disappear. Draco didn't have access to any of the Malfoy fortune anyway; the majority of it restricted by the Ministry of Magic for the period of house arrest. His parents were given an allowance to live on dictated by the Minister himself. Draco was in essence penniless and completely independent for first time in his life, and that's how he ended up in his present predicament.
He did not have much in the way of provisions at Spinner's End and hated to visit his parents just to eat their food and leave. So when Blaise had invited him out to a small pub near Diagon Alley, Draco had jumped at the chance for a meal he didn't have to pay for. He ended up waiting for an hour, sipping on a glass of water with lemon before a note arrived saying Blaise had been unavoidably detained and wouldn't make their date. "Probably met some girl." Draco huffed to himself before leaving the pub, he didn't have any muggle money on him after all.
When he exited the pub, he found that one of London's typical downpours had chosen to strike, and he didn't carry a muggle umbrella nor was he about to get into trouble with the Ministry over the inappropriate use of magic in front of muggles. Instead, he pulled his black hoodie over his head and zipped up tight against the soaking rain. With a sigh, he realised that the the nearest apparition site in this part of non-magical London was streets away and he would be soaked before he got there. He could always apparate from Diagon Alley, he just tried not to go there if possible. Maybe if he dodged his way through Knockturn Alley he could avoid most of the witches or wizards there and get away without too much trouble. That was his plan anyway. But if anyone knew how plans did not always go as you expected them to, it was Draco. He had almost escaped notice and gotten away when a group of drunken wizards stumbled out of the back of The Leaky Cauldron, bumping into him.
"Whoa! So'ry ther mate! Din-din't see ya," a loud, drunken voice called out. Draco mumbled something, just trying to get away before he ran into anyone else. He was startled when a hand pulled him around to face the three drunken prats. "Hey! I-I'mn tryin to a-a..pologiz. Ith's rude not ta anser." Draco looked up, catching sight of the blue eyes and flaming red hair of one of the last people he wanted to see.
Ron Weasley stared at the pale spectre from his past standing before him. The first anniversary of the war had come and gone. A day that reminded him of all he had lost. Now he spent most of his time drunk, unable to move on. This little git was unwelcome to be a part of the anniversary tributes and celebrations because he had chosen to support the wrong side. Ron didn't care that he had been cleared during that bloody farce of a trial, the ferret was still guilty as far as he was concerned. As he shoved Malfoy against the stone wall, Ron's eyes grew cold and deadly. The back of Malfoy's head made a satisfying thwack against the bricks. Balling up his fist, Ron punched him hard in the gut. They weren't in school anymore and Saint Potter wasn't here to hold him back. He had very little left to lose. Malfoy would pay.
Before he had a chance to reach for his wand, Draco found himself doubled over, seeing spots, and unable to breath from the shocking blow. A quick second punch sent sharp pain through his side, followed by a blow to the side of his head knocking him to the hard wet cobblestones. His vision was blurring as he tried to get enough air to beg Ron to stop, to just let him go. He tried to protect his middle, holding one hand out as if to ward off the drunken attack, even as a booted foot kicked into his gut. Weasley's drinking buddies encouraged the attack and taunted the already pained man. A hand jerked Draco's head up by his hair for another bruising blow, before he was dropped to the pavement like a sack of potatoes. Seeing the foot draw back yet again, he closed his eyes. I'm going to die. He couldn't say he wanted to, however no one would lift a hand to help a Malfoy—not anymore. The shouting grew fainter and there was a bright burst of light through his eyelids before his world went completely black.
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There was humming, a gentle burr that grew louder as he reached consciousness, finally resolving into an actual tune. Was there humming in the afterlife? Draco supposed he was going to find out. He would not admit to himself that he was afraid to open his eyes as he scrunched them more tightly shut.
"You can wake up now Draco, you are perfectly safe. Ron won't be hurting you anymore today." That voice!
Draco's eyes flew open, promptly landing on the blonde curls and permanently pleasant expression of Luna Lovegood. She was dressed in the robes of an apprentice healer. His eyes darted around the room; it was certainly not St. Mungo's. In fact, it resembled nothing more than a normal bedroom. He was beyond confused as his gaze returned to Luna who was sitting on the edge of the bed next to him.
Luna smiled kindly, "You will probably be quite sore for another day or two, but I have left some potions that will help. Your rib was easily repaired since it was only fractured, however, the punctured lung took half an hour of spellcasting to mend properly. Thankfully your internal organs escaped permanent injury, though you will feel the effects of the deep tissue bruising for several days. Your head will be fine, but you may feel a bit dizzy and possibly have quite the headache. Rest and take your potions and you should recover quite nicely."
Draco was still trying to absorb her words when he was startled by the entrance of a tall, shirtless man. The man's face was hidden beneath a towel, as he busily dried his damp hair, yet there was something so familiar about the way he moved.
Muggle joggers hung low on the mystery man's lean hips, hinting at a substantial package and clinging smoothly over the curve of taut buttocks. Water trailed over his well-developed pecs and abs before rolling into the chiseled vee that led towards his enticing groin.
Draco had admired and wanted to pursue many attractive men and women over the years, but given his betrothal, then the war during his burgeoning puberty, as well as the state of his life since the end of the war, he hadn't been able to explore his desires more fully.
Never until this moment had a man so affected and completely drawn his regard. What is it about him? He felt a sudden twitch in his cock and flushed warmly, rearranging the blankets more snugly under his chin to hide his growing arousal. Luna smiled broadly, a knowing gleam in her eye.
"Your damsel in distress is awake," she winked at Draco, as she brushed her fingers over his brow, "and beginning to feel feverish from the looks of things. Perhaps I should leave him some potions for that as well." Draco was fairly certain she was teasing him.
"Oh!" A rich-baritone voice from underneath the towel, quickly drew Draco's attention. At last the damp terry cloth was draped over broad shoulders to reveal the face of...Neville Longbottom!
His old schoolmate's dark, tousled hair curled against his forehead and drew attention to his hazel eyes. Draco was surprised to see both warmth and uncertainty in them. Why the Gryffindor felt unsure, he didn't know. He was the one with a reason to be nervous, lying here vulnerable among his former enemies.
Neville smiled, gesturing at himself, "Sorry, we made a bit of a mess when I apparated us here."
I was unconscious and Longbottom had to apparate me here. That means he had to pick me up in those... strong, well-developed arms and carry me before placing me on... a bed. Shite! Draco couldn't seem to stop thinking of those arms flexing around his body, holding him securely. It didn't take much for him to start imagining other things that well-built body could do to him. His cock pulsed in response to his wayward thoughts and he groaned low in his throat as he forced himself over onto his side a bit more, letting the bend of his knees hide the burgeoning evidence.
Neville, misunderstanding Draco's heated expression, rushed on, "It's fine though! Perfectly understandable given the state you were in. Not a problem at all… I just needed a shower, and…I…well, I…," Neville's gaze raked over Draco's hidden body on his bed and lost his train of thought, "forgot...t-to grab a clean shirt. So I apologize if I disturbed your rest." Flushing, he gestured towards the chest of drawers across from the bed, "Let me just…" He trailed off as he pulled open a drawer, grabbed a t-shirt and pulled it quickly over his head.
Draco was sorry to see the t-shirt cover Longbottom's smooth skin but it did little to disguise the physique underneath as the cotton clung to his damp body. Damn! Just what had Neville been up to in the last year?And why in the hell is he affecting me so strongly?
Neville had always been the class dimwit, easily dismissed. The man that now stood before him made Draco's mouth water and his cock throb uncomfortably. No point in getting his hopes up—or anything else. Draco sighed. Lovegood and Longbottom were likely lovers.
But wait. Why was he here? Maybe they wanted money, a reward for aiding the Malfoy heir. If that were the case, they would be sorely disappointed like so many others. Shite! What if I'm being held hostage? Looking for his wand, Draco lifted the covers. He was no longer wearing his own clothes but instead wore a Gryffindor t-shirt and bright red pajama bottoms. The indignity! Where is my bloody wand?
Neville had turned back around once he had his shirt on and had watched Draco's odd facial expressions as he tried to process the situation he found himself in. He hadn't heard a word from the pale young man in his bed. In his bed. Neville would never admit aloud that Draco Malfoy, lying in his bed was a bit of a fantasy come true. He had harbored a secret crush on Draco for years. Age and experience had done nothing to diminish his fascination with the regal perfection of the pureblood prince. He shook those thoughts away when he saw the panic crossing Draco's face once he discovered his clothes missing. As he began looking around frantically, Neville held up both hands, to show he meant no harm as he spoke , "Draco, your wand is on the nightstand. We are in my flat on Diagon Alley and you are perfectly safe here. I promise you; I will not allow any harm to come to you while you are in my home. If you prefer, I'm sure arrangements can be made for you to recover with your parents instead. I've already sent word to let them know that you're safe and being looked after."
When Draco looked puzzled, he shrugged sheepishly and continued, "The attack on you was rather public, being right behind The Leaky Cauldron and all. It isn't certain if The Daily Prophet got ahold of the story, but since plenty of witches and wizards witnessed the attack and the chaos afterwards when the aurors apprehended Weasley and his mates, it's very likely. I didn't want your parents to hear about the attack or see it in the Prophet and have no word about you."
Draco's eyes grew wide in surprise, and he still could not find any words to say to his apparent host and...hero. Luna patted his hand gently as she rose from the bed, her distant expression and smile in place. "I'll come by tomorrow to check on you. Rest, eat, and you'll feel much better in the morning. I promise." Draco managed a quiet, 'Thank you Luna,' and she just nodded her acceptance without making a fuss. She turned to go, stopping long enough for a hug and accepted Neville's whispered thanks before she disappeared out the door.
The two former adversaries stared at each other for a moment before both began to speak at once. Neville blushed and motioned for Draco to proceed. Oddly enough, he found he had to look away from Neville to form a coherent thought. "I… uhm. Well, it would appear Mister Longbottom that I owe you my life, as well as my thanks. I don't even know why you bothered to step in but… I appreciate it. If you can give me my clothes, I will get out of your hair. I mean, you've done enough without having to suffer the wrath of your other friends and all." Draco had to pause and swallow the lump in his throat as he realized that he had no friends to come to his aid; that he was quite possibly alive only thanks to the intervention of someone who had suffered due to his pride and cruelty when they were at school together. He wasn't accustomed to receiving kindness from anyone these days. Draco blinked against the prickle of unwanted tears. He had never felt so alone.
Neville cut off those thoughts abruptly. "Please Draco, I believe we have known each other long enough to dispense with the formality. You may call me Neville, and you're not going anywhere except possibly to my guest room. Is it okay to call you Draco?" He chuckled when Draco jerked his head back around in surprise and slowly nodded in assent. "Well, my room was the closest at the time but I might like to sleep in my bed tonight. I figured you'd object to sharing." He was rewarded for his teasing with a sudden small smile on Draco's face. "Anyway, you heard Luna. You need food and rest and she will have my hide if you haven't gotten both when she comes to check on you tomorrow. As for everything else, you are more than welcome. You didn't deserve Ron's attack. He's been...a mess ever since the war, first losing Fred, then blowing things with Hermione because of his drinking. We thought he would harm himself when Hermione got together with Harry." He shook his head sadly, thinking about his old friend. "We've all tried to help without any success. You just happened along at a bad time and he made you the focus of all his pain and anger. It's unfair and I am sorry that I couldn't stop him before you were hurt."
Draco didn't know what to say, finding kindness in such an unexpected place was a strange feeling. That overlaid with the sudden aching attraction he was experiencing proved to be a bit overwhelming, and he found himself chuckling at the utter absurdity of his situation. Neville smiled as he saw Draco relax a bit, until he heard the unmistakable sound of the fair-haired man's stomach rumbling.
"Ah, that sounds like my cue," Neville said. "If you feel up to it, you can come out into the kitchen, and I'll fix us some dinner and tea. If not, I can certainly bring a tray in here."
Shaking his head then wincing slightly from the movement, Draco said, "No, you've done enough already Neville," enjoying how his host's name felt on his tongue and lips. "I think I can make it just fine. I'll," he slowly eased himself up until he sat on the edge of the bed, "take my time." Draco was thankful that at least his arousal had ebbed as they had talked so he didn't have to worry about embarrassing himself. He ached all over and definitely felt a bit woozy, but he thought he would be able to manage without collapsing onto the floor.
Realizing that Draco needed to do something on his own to regain his confidence, Neville watched him carefully as he maneuvered himself, "Well, if you're sure you'll be alright." He points at the foot of the bed, "If you like, there are socks and slippers over there, and you can't miss the kitchen. It's not as if this place is huge. I'll go ahead and get started, but promise to yell if you need help, get too dizzy... anything. Just call, I'll be right out here, okay?"
Draco nodded and offered Neville a genuine smile, "Thank you, Neville. I promise I will do that." Neville left him alone then, but kept the bedroom door wide open in case Draco did indeed have to yell.
The rattle of a tea kettle and other sounds of preparation drifted in from the kitchen. Taking his time, Draco managed to pull on both the socks and slippers before he slowly stood and braced his hand on the nightstand until a fresh bout of dizziness faded. He was indeed sore but made his way across the room by using a chair, a wall, and the doorframe as supports along the way. He stopped in the door of the bedroom to take in the flat.
The bedroom opened directly into the sitting area and beyond that was the kitchen. Draco glanced to his right, seeing a short hallway with doors which he assumed led to the guest room, the lav, and such. Neville glanced over his shoulder to see how Draco was progressing, making sure he was fine and pointed to the dining chair he could sit in before returning to his task. Draco continued to make his way slowly, leaning on the back of the sofa for support. The flat was cozy, small but comfortable. The overall color scheme of chocolate brown and cream with shades of blue and green spread around was very soothing to Draco, masculine without being dark and overbearing. He could feel at home here very easily, he thought absently. Overstuffed chairs and the sofa were grouped around a fireplace in want of a fire at the moment, but it was summer yet. He could hear the rain still pouring down outside and see it sheeting down the windows in the sitting room. He did not see an entrance to the flat however, maybe they were on an upper floor.
Eventually, Draco made his way to the kitchen, sinking at last into the chair Neville indicated at the small table pushed up against the wall. Neville promptly served him a hot cup of Earl Grey tea. Milk and sugar were already on the table so he could fix it as he liked. As Draco prepared his tea, he watched Neville's muscles flex as he went about making supper. Neville had certainly matured a great deal, moving with utter confidence in the small kitchen. Of course, the war had forced maturity on many, but Neville seemed to wear it more naturally. Draco had seen with his own eyes when the unexpected war hero beheaded Voldemort's foul snake Nagini. He had also read the numerous articles hailing him as one of the war's champions, right alongside Harry himself. Even being a pureblood, raised by his strict grandmother, Neville did not bear a trace of the haughty arrogance evident in most of the others in the same class. Draco studied the handsome man humbly making him dinner, realizing there was no sense of undue pride about him, no self-inflated ego as a result of earning the praise of the entire wizarding world. He was still just Neville—the well-meaning, kind-hearted guy who was not above helping even a man he once called enemy.
Joining him at the table, Neville was soon serving their steaming-hot meal. He glanced over the brimming bowls and heaping plates in satisfaction before summoning two glasses and a bottle of red wine. It was at that moment that it occurred to Draco that Neville had only used his hands and not his wand to prepare their dinner. He shook his head in wonder, and the thought of his hands on him flashed through his mind.
Neville leaned forward, his fingers unconsciously stroking the neck of the bottle and whispered conspiratorially, "I won't tell Luna if you won't." He uncorked the wine and poured them both half a glass; their fingers touching briefly as he handed over a crystal goblet.
Prompting his guest with a smile, "Perhaps a toast then, to new found...friends."
Draco raised his glass and shared a small smile, "I think I will drink to that."
After they both took a long swallow, Neville encouraged, "Well, go on. I heard that stomach growling before you even got out here. Eat up! I won't let you have dessert if you don't eat. Those are the rules."
Draco chuckled softly, feeling oddly like they were on a date. He quickly shook off his fanciful thoughts and picked up his spoon. Neville had served them each a bowl of French onion soup; the cheese melted thick over the top of the bowl. It was paired with half of a roast beef sandwich, piled high with lean buttery beef on crusty bread. His mouth watered from the delicious sight and aroma, and he gave Neville a broad smile before he began to eat.
They managed to chat companionably during their meal, Draco even praising Neville's cooking skills, causing the young man to blush. The wine helped to relax them both and they began to talk about things since the war, though it was clear that they both were glossing over certain parts. Neville had apparently traveled a bit after the war as well, just to find some solace before returning to London. Draco wasn't sure what business he worked in, but Neville brushed off those questions saying they would talk about it tomorrow after he had more time to recover. Before Draco knew it, their plates and bowls were empty, and Neville got up to see about dessert. He served up a raspberry tart with streusel topping and strong hot coffee for them both. Despite the circumstances that brought him here, Draco had not had such a pleasant evening since he was back in school. He couldn't help but wish that he might be able to spend more evenings in this manner. More specifically, that he could spend more evenings like this with Neville.
All too soon dessert was finished and Draco blinked sleepily. Neville smiled warmly as he offered him a hand, "Come on now, best get you back to bed so you can rest." Draco moved too quickly to get up and found his pain and stiffness had worsened. The wine had not helped his swimming head either. Before he lost his balance, Neville's arm tucked quickly around his waist, supporting him as they moved slowly down the hall.
Neville spoke with a slight grimace on his face, "Think I might have let you overdo it a bit. And it's time for your potions again too. I'm sorry Draco. I was having such a pleasant evening that I didn't want to see it end. It was selfish of me and unfair to you after you were injured today."
Draco wasn't complaining as Neville's strong arm tightened around him. Honestly, you would think he had never got off based on the way his body responded to Neville's touch. He finally managed to speak at least. "You don't need to apologize. I was having a nice time as well… best food and company I've had in a long time. I'll be fine once I'm dosed and settled, but before that, could you direct me to the lav, please."
"Of course." Neville helped him into a small bathroom and pointed out everything including extra toothbrushes. Once he made sure Draco would be alright on his own, he stepped outside the door and waited while his guest readied himself for bed. Yes, Neville was indulging in the excuse of Draco's injuries to touch and be close to the young man. He felt a little guilty about it, but considering Draco had only ever dated women and was engaged to a woman at one point, Neville had no reason to hope that there could be more with his crush.
The Gryffindor had been terrified when he saw Draco unconscious and bloody on the ground as rain pelted down on his abused body. He had scooped him into his arms almost without thought and apparated them away from the gathering crowds.
He supposed afterwards that he should have taken the injured man straight to St. Mungo's, but instinctively he had known Draco would want to avoid further magical entanglements. Thankfully, even as he laid the beaten man on his bed, Neville had known Luna would somehow sense she was needed. She had arrived only moments later. Now all those tense, fear-filled moments were behind him but Neville couldn't shake the desire to keep Draco close. He knew he would have to overcome these feelings at some point, but for now, he was waiting with a smile and a strong, supportive arm, when Draco emerged from the bathroom. Neville helped his guest to the spare bedroom and turned back the bed, before easing him down to sit on the edge. He quickly retrieved some water and the potions Luna had left. After he made sure Draco took them as directed, Neville urged him to lie back as he tucked the covers around him.
Draco merely chuckled as Neville fussed over him like a mother hen, but was secretly touched to be cared for in such a way. Neville finally went to leave as Draco's eyes grew heavy from the potions. "Breakfast is bright and early around here, but feel free to sleep in if you need the rest. I'll be sure to leave you something if you're not up when I need to head to work. I would like to show you something tomorrow though… if you are up to it that is." Draco returned the small smile from his host, but barely managed a nod. Neville took his cue to let the man rest, "Sleep well, Draco. I'm just down the hall if you need me." Just as he turned to go, Neville seemed to remember something, turning back towards the bed. Draco watched as Neville approached and placed his wand beside him on the nightstand once again. At Draco's slightly raised brow, Neville spoke softly, "You left it in my room, probably just forgot. I thought you would feel safer with it beside you." He gave a simple shrug and turned to go. As Neville pulled the door closed, he heard a sleepy, 'Thank you.' With a welcome warmth in his heart, he got himself ready for bed, unable to prevent thoughts of his guest from filling his dreams.
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The smell of bacon and coffee woke Draco from his sleep, a gnawing ache in his stomach indicating it had been too long since dinner. Sitting up carefully, he found that he did feel much better; while he was still quite sore, his headache had eased substantially. He soon padded his way into the kitchen in his borrowed slippers in search of a cup of coffee. While he would always enjoy his tea, he had gotten into the habit of a strong cup of coffee to start his day during his travels. It could hardly be avoided when you travelled in Italy or America, where a decent cup of tea is practically impossible to find. Neville was already showered and dressed for the day, and Draco lamented his chance to see that well toned body fresh from the shower again.
Neville smiled warmly when he caught sight of Draco, his sleep mussed hair an endearing sight that quickly imprinted itself into Neville's mind. He passed over a mug of hot coffee and gestured Draco to the table. "I see you made it up after all," he said with a smile. "Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes, cream and sugar is on the table."
Draco did as instructed, watching Neville going about his morning activities. He quickly noticed that unlike last night, Neville was using magic. A sweet smell wafted from the warm oven, and Draco could see several bowls on the counter slowly stirring themselves. As he watched, Neville went from bowl to bowl adding ingredients, blueberries for one, cranberries and orange zest for another, followed by lemon zest and poppy seeds, then chopped pecans and cinnamon in the last. Once the bowls were mixing again, Neville opened the oven, pulling out sheets of perfectly baked scones. With a wave of his wand, he sent them into baskets, which he then began floating to a small dumbwaiter located at the far right side of the kitchen. He paused as a thought occurred to him, "I know it's too early but would you like to try them? What's your favorite?"
Draco loved raspberry scones with clotted cream, but everything Neville had made looked and smelled delicious. He picked the cranberry-orange and the cinnamon-pecan for good measure. He could have a taste now to be polite and save some for later, since scones weren't the usual fare for breakfast. Neville only chuckled and transferred the chosen baked goods into a basket, covering them with a cloth to keep warm. The rest flew through the small door, where they promptly disappeared, where to, Draco didn't know.
As soon as the next batch of scones was in the oven, Neville served breakfast. Two plates loaded with bacon and fried eggs along with slices of toast, butter and jam, and more fresh hot coffee. Draco felt positively spoiled as he joined Neville in devouring the delicious meal. After they both finished, he got to his feet and insisted on helping to clear the table and wash up while Neville set about making a new batch of scones. Draco noticed that he added savory ingredients to these, such as cheese, ground pepper, and olives. His curiosity was intense, but he didn't want to interfere with Neville's obvious routine.
He was just about to ask what he else he could do to help, when they were both surprised by the loud pop of apparition within the flat. Draco blinked as he looked down and saw an unfamiliar house-elf, holding what appeared to be a bundle of laundry. "Master Longbottom. I have brought Master Malfoy clothes and a message from his parents, sir."
Neville cleared up Draco's confusion quickly, "Meet Soames. He's my Gran's house-elf. Considering your parents' house arrest and the press, I figured it was easier to let Soames carry the message to your parents instead of another owl they might ignore. Besides, your clothes were bloody and needed to be laundered. I wasn't sure if you would want them back so Soames was charged with procuring some things from your home.
Draco could only imagine what his parents may have sent considering he wasn't really staying at home but he was still grateful for Neville's thoughtfulness.
"Thank you, Soames." Soames merely handed over the parcel with a nod, followed by a note Draco recognized as his mother's handwriting.
"If there is nothing further, Masters, I shall return to m'lady." Once Neville had thanked him as well, assured him that nothing else was required, and asked him to send his love to his grandmother, Soames disappeared promptly with another loud pop. Draco was still standing there with his parcel and note when Neville spoke again.
"If you would like to shower and get dressed, you can join me downstairs," Neville pointed towards a door at the back of the kitchen, "so I can show you my surprise and quell that violent curiosity I can see as plain as the nose on your face." Draco was a bit embarrassed to be so obvious but still smiled at Neville's gentle teasing. "Through the door, downstairs, then back in the rear entrance. I'll be waiting." He had turned back to his work before stopping suddenly, looking back over his shoulder he added, "Don't forget to take your potions if you need them." Draco hid his smirk as he shooed Neville back to his work while he headed for his room and the shower, the pleasant humming of his companion working followed him down the hall.
Draco dropped the parcel on the bed and opened his mother's note. It contained the usual outrage at the attack, fear for his safety, demands that he return home to be cared for properly, along with the questions about his general well being. He was actually surprised by his mother's subtle curiosity, expressed in statements regarding him being cared for by Mister Longbottom, even though he was an "honorable pureblood and heir to the Longbottom line." There was no direct correspondence from his father, as his mother generally expressed the thoughts for both of them. He shook his head, wishing his mother didn't feel the need to pry into his love life or lack thereof. His parents had known of his inclinations towards both sexes since puberty began; however, duty had dictated a marriage and he was an obedient son. And look what that has gotten me. Still, she didn't have to go assuming things without reason. He would have to send her a message later, but he had no intentions of getting her hopes up, even though he was relaxed and at home with Neville. He was surprised when he opened the parcel and found jeans, a t-shirt, and a soft, dark-blue jumper, along with leather loafers. Either his mother or one of their own house elves must have directed Soames to the house in Spinner's End for his clothes, and he was grateful anew.
After quickly showering and dressing, he drank a potion for his discomfort and another cup of coffee before heading downstairs to meet Neville.
The door opened directly outside onto a short landing that overlooked a small yard. Once outside, Draco could see that the stairs continued up towards the roof and he wanted to explore; however, he wanted to see Neville more. Maybe Neville can give me a tour later.
The morning sun shone down on a yard filled with raised beds, overflowing with all kinds of plants. The recent rain left the garden glistening with hundred of raindrops, reflecting sunlight into small rainbows throughout the beds. The breeze blew cool and moist across his face, the scents on the air smelling clean and fresh. The only space left in the yard at all were the walkways between the beds. Turning at the bottom of the stairs, Draco noticed a gate in the tall privacy fence, which he could sense warded the property. Facing the building again, he reached for the door, noticing that it looked like a large service entrance and wondered, not for the first time, what Neville was doing here. Well, only one way to find out. Draco pulled firmly on the door and let himself in.
His eyes took a moment to adjust after being in the bright sunlight outside, but soon he found himself… in an industrial-grade kitchen. It was larger and brighter than the homey one upstairs. Cold stainless-steel and white tiles adorned almost every surface of the cavernous room. Draco walked in further, uncertain of where to go. Just as he thought that, Neville walked through a swinging door to the left of the large window that opened through the far wall of the kitchen.
"At last! Come in, come in, let me show you the place before it gets busy!"
Neville motioned with his hand and Draco followed. He was led into a large front room that was just as cozy as the flat upstairs. A glass display case and counter to his right brimmed with pastries, as well as the fresh baked scones. Kettles and pots were steaming behind the case with what appeared to be hot water for tea and more coffee. He noticed the tins containing various blends of tea that could be brewed as requested, lined up along the back counter as well. What appeared to be a large chalkboard on the wall above the register, carried a written list of various butties and soups for ordering. The large room was scattered with small covered tables and chairs with soft cushioned seats, while along the walls were sofas and comfy chairs with low tables in front of them. Shades of red, brown, pink, and yellow created a warm and welcoming atmosphere in the large space. The front wall was filled with one large multi-paned window that faced directly out onto Diagon Alley, and the entrance, located to the left of the window, awaited opening with a small bell dangling overhead.
Neville had remained quiet as Draco took in everything but seemed about to burst waiting for a response. "Well, what do you think?"
Draco shrugged a bit, "It seems like a nice little shop. Do you bake for a deal on your rent or something like that?"
Neville shook his head before grabbing Draco's hand, pulling him out of the front door, and turning him to face the large sign outside. Giant gold letters, outlined in chocolate brown on a pink background proclaimed clearly: Longbottom's Tea Emporium and Cafe.
Neville spoke with dry humor as Draco looked at the storefront, "I did all the baking because it is my shop. This is what I came home to do, much to the disappointment of my Gran." He shrugged in turn as Draco faced him, "I've had enough of fighting, and I like making people feel good. Not to mention I am not too bad of a cook." Draco laughed out loud at that as they moved back inside.
"Well, I've only had two meals to judge from, but they were both delicious. You've certainly made me feel better than I have in quite some time." Draco blushed and looked away as if realizing he had given more away than he wished to. Clearing his throat, he changed the subject, "So how long have you been open? I don't recall seeing your shop before."
"Just two weeks so far. I didn't come home until spring, and once I knew what I wanted to do, I had to work fast to be ready in time for the new school year and the influx of shoppers and students. With all of the damage from the war, finding the space was easy. Then it was a matter of repairing, painting, decorating and such. It has been a lot of hard work, but I am happy with the results, knowing that I have something that is truly mine. You know what I mean?"
Draco nodded, "I know exactly what you mean. I've spent the past year searching for the same thing." He didn't need to elaborate, he knew that Neville understood without any further words.
When Neville returned to his morning preparations, Draco wondered what he should do. Neville, being far more astute than people gave him credit for, inquired, "I thought... if you wanted to that is, you could hang out in the back, help out a little if you feel up to it, just see how things go.
"I want to talk to you about something this evening, and I doubt Luna would want you going anywhere until she gives the all clear anyway." Considering what had just happened yesterday and the possibility of roving reporters from The Prophet, Neville added, "You don't even have to come out front if you don't want to. Nobody has to know you are here at all. I can even put a spell over the kitchen window if you like. It will be no problem for me at all, but it's not like you're relegated to the back either. When you feel comfortable, I would love your company and help upfront too."
Draco, looked around and thought for a minute before speaking, "Alright. I think I might enjoy just hanging out. How do you think I could help?"
Neville smiled broadly, pleased to have Draco around for a little while longer. Ushering him into the back room, he began, "Well, during lunch hours, it gets busy between the people who come in to eat and those who grab their food on the go. So you could help me by keeping up with the dishes from customers that actually eat in." Neville realized he had asked a Malfoy to help with dishes and instantly looked sheepish, "Not that you have to do that though... I mean I have been managing fine by myself so far. It was just an idea, but… but you can… Oh, nevermind."
Draco laughed at Neville's rambling, there was the boy he remembered from their school days still tucked away inside the gorgeous man he had become. "It's okay Neville. I can help with the dishes if you show me what to do. Is there anything else?"
Neville breathed a sigh of relief, "Well, we'll see how it goes first. For lunch, I serve soups and butties, tea, coffee and the pastries. I also have several regulars that come early to pick up scones for their tea at home and such. That's why I cook so many, you see." He glanced over at Draco and the reassuring smile he received bolstered his confidence as he lay out his fledgling business for his new friend. "The soup is made ahead so only the sandwiches have to be put together. I only do lunch and tea so I get to have my mornings to myself and I don't close too late. Maybe when I can afford more staff I might consider dinner as well, but for now this is enough. I limit my use of magic out front but back here I use whatever I need to. How about we get through lunch service, see how you are feeling, and then go from there, alright?"
Draco smiled, slightly confused, "Sure, but why do you limit magic out front when you have a shop in Diagon Alley?"
"I know it sounds a bit odd, but since we will be having such a large influx of muggle-born witches and wizards entering Hogwarts, I thought it would be nice to have a normal place for them where they could eat, have a cup of tea, and relax." He shrugged a bit, "I know it's probably silly to you, but I think it's a sound idea. Our world can be a bit overwhelming at times. Harry and Hermione helped me learn and understand muggle customs, well, them and my travels. And I do good business with the pureblood witches and wizards too. They come in for the novelty, but they come back for the food." Neville laughed at his own joke, not the least bit conceited about his skill in the kitchen.
Draco didn't think Neville's shop was silly at all. He admired him for taking the chance on something different and putting his skills to good use. Though he did think about of all the plants out back and wondered what had become of Neville's talent for herbology. Pushing up the sleeves of his jumper and resting his hands on his hips, Draco praised, "I think your shop is great Neville, truly. Now, you best get to showing me what you need before customers begin to arrive."
And so, the first part of the day passed in a whirl of activity, Neville deftly handling the front, serving his customers with kind smiles and a gentle nature. Draco helped keep things in order in the back, sending refills of scones and pastries out the pass through window when Neville asked. He had plenty of time to just watch Neville's ease with the customers, which belied the nervous little boy inside and he was so unfailingly kind and courteous with his customers. Draco could only admire him all the more, not that he wasn't equally occupied watching the shift of muscle beneath Neville's shirt or the flex of his buttocks when he bent over to get something from the case. Yes, Draco was just as busy admiring the body as he was the man. He could tell that even after only two weeks, Neville already had a steady stream of regular customers, a sure sign of success among the often fickle tastes of witches and wizards. And the shop still had a couple of weeks before Hogwarts' shopping really hit full swing. Draco could easily spot the few muggles who came in, noting how they relaxed quickly in the familiar shop. Neville was correct is his assumptions and he helped put the muggles at ease right away. Draco wondered absently if Neville needed any investors. He was so comfortable being here in the shop with Neville that investing in the venture was easy to consider, though secretly he contemplated whether he would like being here in the shop more often than a simple investor might.
When lunch was over, Draco was starting to feel tired. Neville pulled out a stool and insisted that he sit down. "Luna is always late for lunch. She gets so busy and distracted with her work. Still, she will probably come over on her lunch break to check on you, and she will hex me for sure if she sees you running around the kitchen helping."
Draco did as instructed and watched Neville checking the soups being kept warm by charmed pots and fixing sandwiches for each of them before time for tea service to begin. They ate in a comfortable silence, enjoying their tea.
Just as the first few customers trickled in for tea, Luna appeared. Draco felt guilty leaving Neville to man the shop alone as Luna promptly began marching him out the door and back upstairs. As he winked and triggered the magic that began assembling sandwiches to order, Neville assured him that he would be fine. Draco couldn't stop the huge grin he gave Neville in response.
Luna chastised him gently all the way upstairs about not healing properly if he continues to overdo it. Under her surprisingly firm instructions, Draco changed back into his borrowed pajamas, was put to bed, examined, and dosed with his potions. Luna smiled kindly as she prepared to leave, "You are doing well Draco, but you still need to rest. Neville can handle the shop. You take a nap, and he'll be up before you know it. See you tomorrow then." Draco barely had a chance to voice his thanks before she was gone. He wouldn't admit she was right, but he was pretty sure he fell asleep before the back door closed.
{*} {*} {*}
When Draco awoke, he could tell he had slept long time, from the lack of light and noise coming in his window. He stretched languidly, feeling well rested and hungry. Listening for a moment, Draco smiled at the noises that told him Neville was in the kitchen. That knowledge and the sinful aroma drifting into his room, finally pulled him from the bed. He found Neville pulling a pan from the oven. Draco crossed his arms and enjoyed the view until Neville straightened and turned, catching him staring.
"Well, hello sleepyhead. I didn't think you would sleep the day away, but I probably let you do too much this morning. Ready for dinner?"
Draco smiled, "Dinner sounds and smells great! I'm sorry if you waited late for me though" He sank into his chair at the table as Neville began to plate up their food. He noticed a bottle of wine waiting on the table so went ahead and poured them each a glass. "I suppose I was more tired than I realized. Luna didn't hex you though; did she?"
Laughter echoed throughout the kitchen, adding to the warmth Draco already felt. "No, she didn't hex me. Nearly lectured my ear off though. I swear she only stopped because she had to get back to the hospital. She was so busy fussing at me that she didn't even eat, had to take her sandwich with her. And as for dinner, I have gotten into the habit of eating later since I have to close up the shop, so you timed it perfectly."
Draco tried to apologize, but it was hard when he kept laughing at the notion of Luna scolding Neville. He was still chuckling when he was presented with a plate filled with a mouth-watering, cheesy lasagna. Crusty garlic bread sat in a basket on the table, and a bowl of salad sat beside his plate. Along with the red wine, it was a veritable feast.
Draco looked at Neville, sitting across from him with an expectant look on his face. "If you keep feeding me like this, I won't be able to fit in my trousers when I leave here."
Neville smiled but looked thoughtful for a moment before finally mumbling, "I enjoy… having someone to cook for." Draco was startled by the quiet comment, but Neville continued before he felt he had to say something. "And actually, that is sort of what I wanted to talk with you about. Not the food," he added hastily, "The, uhm… leaving."
Draco paused mid-chew, looking at Neville in confused silence. He reached for his wine and swallowed down his bite of food with a large gulp. He set the glass back down carefully before addressing his host once more. "What about my leaving? What are you saying, Neville?" He couldn't help his wariness after all he had been through recently.
Neville took a drink as well, then sat back in his chair, hoping to encourage Draco to relax as he spoke. "Well, after we talked last night, I started thinking about our situations. We're not that dissimilar in what we want. Something of our own, a place to belong, a bit of peace after all we've endured. I came up with an idea that could… benefit us both. At least for a bit. I only needed to see how things went today before I brought it up with you."
Draco was still utterly confused but he trusted Neville. And how odd was it that, a boy he only bothered with in school long enough to hex or torment, had become the only man he felt he could trust. He took a shaky breath before asking, "And just what is your idea?"
Neville sat his wine glass down and leaned forward on his elbows, bringing them closer. "What would you say to working with me in the shop for a while? I need the help and I've enjoyed your company." He chuckled as Draco quirked up an eyebrow in a doubt. "I mean it! I'll pay you a regular salary and don't even try to argue with me about it, I insist. You could stay here even...if you like, rather than apparating in. You would be able to avoid any run-ins you'd rather not have. I mean... my guest room is going to waste, and I think you need a place where you can start fresh. Hey, as a boss it would be ideal. You can't very well miss work when you're living with the boss, now can you?" He watched closely as Draco's face transformed from surprise, to disbelief, and finally pleasure which he tried to hide. Neville wouldn't deny that his offer served the purely selfish goal of keeping Draco in his flat for a while longer. He wasn't really lying when he said he enjoyed having someone to cook for, but what he omitted was that he enjoyed cooking for Draco in particular. The persistent fantasy of holding that slim body bent over this very table and fucking him senseless as a dessert option just wouldn't leave him alone either.
Draco could not believe what Neville was offering him. They were practically strangers until Neville rescued him from Ron's drunken assault, and now, he was offering to have him live here. Logically, he had to admit that it was a good idea. He couldn't get a job anywhere else, and he needed to get out of Snape's house for his own mental health. Truth be told, he had been more relaxed and at peace during his short time with Neville than he had been anywhere since before the war. Not that it was the deciding factor, but he did happen to think that if he lived here he might be treated to more chances to see Neville fresh from the shower… maybe without a towel. Draco physically jerked, pushing that thought out of his mind, before he ended up hard at the dinner table. Maybe being so close to Neville was a bad idea; it wasn't like he could just throw himself at the guy. He finally realized that Neville was waiting for a reply.
"I'm… I'm surprised actually, but also flattered that you would offer your home and a job. I'm not sure you realize what you might be getting yourself into, if you take me on however."
Neville read the news; he knew there were plenty of people just like Ron who wouldn't spare one kind thought for a Malfoy. That just made him more determined to keep Draco here where he could shield and protect him as much as possible. Everyone deserved a second chance, and Draco had been trying all on his own without support. Neville wanted to give him that support. "I think I have a pretty good notion of what I'll be in for."
Draco couldn't believe how determined Neville was, surely he didn't understand all the implications. "What about Luna? Won't me living here affect her? "
Neville sat back again, looking truly surprised, "Luna? What would she have to do with my plans?"
"But...I…I thought you two were…" Draco noticed Neville's confused expression. "You're not? Someone else maybe? I don't know Neville, I just wouldn't want my presence to be getting in the way of any romantic affiliations. I apologize if I was mistaken."
Neville laughed out loud for a long moment, "Draco, Luna and I are just very dear friends and have never dated. There isn't anyone else either. I haven't really had a chance to pursue a relationship since the war. I figure you understand that as well." Draco nodded sheepishly, still blushing from Neville's laughter. But he was bowled over when Neville continued, "Besides Draco, you should probably know, I'm gay."
Draco swore his heart did a flip in his chest. "You're…gay?" he exclaims, "but you never…when we were in school…I've never seen you with…" Draco was mentally kicking himself over his stumbling reply.
Neville smiled kindly, a distinct, 'Mmm' made in reply. "I was just realizing it with certainty during our last couple of years at school. But, as you can imagine, so much was going on at that time that I couldn't exactly explore beyond wishful fantasies. Since then, it's been hard. I've tried to go on a few dates, more so when I was travelling than now. I'm not the casual type, and I don't want to waste time on someone who won't last." He smiled at Draco once more and picked up his fork, "Well, our meal is getting cold while we debate. If you have no other objections, what do you say to my offer?"
Draco could barely contain the sudden surge of hope Neville's words gave to his fledgling attraction. There were no other objections and there was no where else he wanted to be right now. "In that case, I accept." He lifted his glass, "A toast to new opportunities!"
Neville joined him in the toast, "Terrific! In that case, consider this our celebratory dinner. Save room for dessert!"
Both of them were laughing as they resumed their meal. For once, the future looked bright indeed.
{*} {*} {*}