Harry Potter
and
the Means to No End
By Rachel
Rating: 18+
Warning: This is slash (fiction with male/male sexual involvement). This story contains explicit language and sex.
If you don't like slash, please don't read these stories!
If you are underage, don't read these stories.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
The Battle of Hogwarts has been fought. The war against Voldemort is over. Harry can go back to his normal life. But what is a normal life? Sometimes, friendship can be found in an unexpected place and in an unexpected face: Draco Malfoy. And as troubles always seem to find Harry, he lands himself into a new adventure. And this time Draco stands on his side.
Chapter 1
Harry gestured the bartender to fill his glass once more, then drained it in one. From the corner of his eye he saw a newcomer take a seat at the bar, but he didn't pay him any attention. Until he heard him swear.
"Merlin! That's disgusting!"
Harry closed his eyes for a second, then spoke to the other man. "Malfoy."
"Potter," Draco answered in the same flat voice, nodding his head slightly.
Harry waited for him to say more, but when the silence between them stretched on for minutes, Harry turned his head at him. "What are you doing here?"
"Could ask you the same. Didn't expect to see you here."
"I come here more often. Usually it's nice and quiet, never met anyone – like us before," Harry knew the Muggle bartender was always listening in to conversations, even as he was attending to other customers.
"You come here alone more often?" the surprise was evident in Draco's voice.
"Don't you ever want to be left alone?"
Draco remained silent as he rotated the empty glass in his hands. "You want me to leave then? Let you have this pub to your own?" he said eventually.
"Nah. It's okay," Harry shrugged his shoulders, surprising himself. He really didn't mind that Malfoy showed up. "What were you drinking?" Harry eyed the empty glass, remembering that he'd obviously hated the taste of the drink.
"I asked for the same as you."
Harry couldn't help but snigger, then turned to the bartender and asked him to refill their glasses once again. Draco made a movement to refuse, but Harry just smirked. He inclined his head to one of the deserted booths in the far corner of the pub, not pausing to see if Draco followed him. When they'd sat down opposite eachother, Harry lifted his glass and took a mouthful of the amber colored drink, showing that he enjoyed the taste. "Try it, I'm sure it tastes better the second time."
Draco chose not to down it in one, but also took a mouthful, but far more careful than Harry had done. His lips curled up in a surprised smile. "Firewhisky! I thought this was a Muggle bar?"
"Come on Malfoy! Are you telling me you can't cast a simple spell from under the table?" Harry said mockingly, but he mirrored Draco's smile, albeit unconsciously.
Draco snorted and broke eye-contact quickly the moment he realized he was staring into the emerald eyes. "How've you been?"
Harry rolled his eyes, not answering.
"What?" Draco said uncomfortably.
"Are you really asking how I've been? That would be as stupid as me asking you how you have been!"
"What? Why?"
"Isn't it plastered all over the papers? What I do from minute-to-minute, with in-depth interviews about how I'm feeling?" there was a bitter tone in Harry's voice all at once, his eyes downcast.
"I'm not stupid enough to believe anything that they write in the papers. But if I can't even ask an innocent question like that, I'll leave. Forget I walked in, and enjoy drinking on your own, Potter."
Draco was already halfway out of his seat when Harry's hand shot out instinctively, his fingers closing around the pale wrist. Draco stared down at it silently, but he made no movement to pull his arm back. Harry obviously fought for words and eventually he blurted out, "'Tis not so much fun drinking on your own."
Draco plopped back down on the seat, motioning the bartender to bring them the whole bottle. After downing two more glasses in silence, Draco cleared his throat. "Why would it be stupid if you asked me how I've been?"
"Aren't you in the papers every day too? Or at least your family?"
When Draco snorted, Harry looked up. He was shocked to see the look in the grey eyes. Bitter, ice-cold. The look he'd had in their first years of Hogwarts every time he laid eyes on Harry.
"You're not telling me you're stupid enough to believe everything they write, are you Potter?"
"I don't read newspapers anymore, at all. I just assumed ..."
The green eyes locked with the grey, they stared at eachother soundlessly, trying to feel eachother out. This was the first time they met since the day that Voldemort died many months ago, if you didn't count the day they met in the courtroom when Lucius Malfoy was sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban.
"How have you been then?" Harry eventually asked, not breaking the stare.
"You really wanna know? Or are you just –"
Harry cut him off. "I'm not so much into courtesies lately. If I ask you how you're doing, I really wanna know."
"You got some time?"
"The whole evening," Harry shrugged, swirling the cold drink in his glass so the icecubes tinkled softly.
"Then care to tell me how you are doing? After all, you're the hero who should be celebrating every day, instead of drinking alone at a bar."
"I'm not alone," Harry's head snapped up, a defensive look at his face.
"You were until I walked in," Draco stated. "Hey, I'm not judging. I came in alone, too."
"You're not judging? You? That's not the Malfoy I know. You hate my guts."
"I did."
Harry glared at Draco, not sure what to think of the use of the past tense.
"Look, Potter. We're no highschool enemies anymore. But I'm not your therapist either, so I'm not gonna drag it out of you. There's three options, and you'd better choose quickly before I choose for you and I won't ever bother you again. One: you take some more shots and you spill what's bothering you. Two: you take some more shots and we just pretend all this shit didn't happen and we just have some fun. Three: I walk out of this door. Now."
Harry didn't pause to think, but took the bottle and refilled both their glasses.
Draco's eyebrows lifted. "Does that mean option one or two?"
"I'm not quite sure what you mean by option two, and I'm not by far hammered enough to find out."
"Obviously you're not the celebrating hero," Draco stated, but in quite a gentle tone.
"What's there to celebrate? All the trials I have to witness, identifying Death Eaters, bloody press on my heels wherever I go, people calling in all the time to ask me how I'm doing, complete strangers running up to me all the time to tell me how fabulous I am, breaking down to tears on the spot."
"Sounds like a big party. Your friends don't care to join in the fun?"
"Ron and Hermione ... they're at the trials too, and they and Neville and Luna and all the others are ambushed by reporters also, but they don't mind that much. It's new to them. It's been like this for me ever since I stepped in the Leaky Cauldron the day Hagrid told me I'm a wizard. I'm bloody sick of it. The fucking spotlight wherever I go. They want me to smile and be a role model. Nobody ever asked me if I wanted to be – that."
Draco refilled both their glasses once again, taking a sip thoughtfully. "Aren't Weasley and Granger together now?"
"Yeah, they are," Harry answered, a bit annoyed at the change of subject. He wasn't finished yet.
"How about you and his sister? The red-head?"
"It was good while it lasted, but no. Nothing between us, not anymore."
"Why? Wouldn't it be good to be able to share it all with someone? Or has it changed you too much? She's not been in it as badly as you were? Not able to understand it all? Or have you just lost interest in her?"
"Damn Draco! Did you murder the evil Malfoy and hid his body in the forest? Or is he still in there somewhere?" Harry waved his hand in front of Draco's eyes, staring at him as if to see into the back of his mind.
"Let's get to that later. You're not changing the subject Potter."
"I – it's a combination of it all. Yes, it's changed me too much, I can't just hang around with someone and have uncomplicated fun. And yes, I've plainly lost interest in girls."
The moment the last word left Harry's lips, he blushed scarlet. Draco didn't react to it, just nodded that he understood, that he should go on.
"And also ... not many people can possibly understand what it was like. Not really. They didn't actually face their own death. They didn't fear for their life every single day. Yes, of course people were scared and afraid they'd be fired or imprisoned or wandless, but they weren't certain that in the end they would either commit murder, or be murdered."
Draco shuddered when he heard the words being said without any compassion, but he remained silent, waiting for Harry to continue. Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. When he spoke again, his eyes were unfocused, staring in the distance. "Not even Ron and Hermione, who were with me for so many months in hiding, not even they can understand what it really felt like."
They both downed another glass of Firewhisky, the bottle nearly empty.
"Have you ever talked about this to anyone?"
Harry put his glasses back on to look at Draco's face before he answered him. "To who? Who would really understand? Understanding words and pitiful looks is not what I want."
Draco looked at him pointedly. "Who could have gone through – well, not the same. But who had to commit murder on a powerful wizard, or get murdered himself? Who was forced into a fight he never wanted to be part in? Who feared for his life every single day?"
The look on Harry's face changed to pure horror when realization hit him. "You!" his voice was barely a whisper.
"Me."
"Poor young Draco Malfoy."
"Who're you calling young? Eighteen," Draco sneered. "But poor, yeah."
"You couldn't have expected anything else, right? The Ministry didn't have much choice but to close off your family vault," Harry snorted.
They poured the last bit of whisky in their glasses. "So? How have you been?" Harry repeated his earlier question.
"Don't look like you're visiting a dying man. As much as everybody expects you to be happy and celebrating, that much do they expect me to be sad and mourning."
"But you aren't?"
"I was dragged into it all by my father. Of course I loved him, but he was a cruel, vile man nonetheless. I don't have anything to do with my family anymore, and it feels like I'm finally free for the first time in my life. And you can't seriously think I'm sad that you killed the Dark Lord. It's true I'm all for preserving pureblood families, but not to the extend he wanted. I wasn't following him willingly, never free to speak my mind. When he lived at our Manor ..." Draco's voice shook and he shuddered visibly. Instinctively Harry put his hand on Draco's arm, squeezing him softly, reassuringly. When he realized what he did, he quickly withdrew his hand. Draco ignored his sudden movement and shrugged helplessly when he went on. "You know what it feels like when your mind is invaded. How humiliating it is when someone else sees your deepest thoughts, memories of something special, a look or a touch of a special person. When he saw it all, he gave me front row in anything dangerous. I was sure to get killed. If he could avoid it, he didn't kill any purebloods, but I had to be eliminated anyway. He was disgusted of me."
"Is that how you ended up nearly getting killed in the Room of Requirement?" Harry asked in a low voice.
"Yeah. If it weren't for you –"
Harry cut him off. "No, no. I do not want to hear how I saved another life. I owe my life to your mother, so as far as I'm concerned, we're even. And when we were caught by the Snatchers and Greyback and brought to your Manor with the stinging hex on my face, you refused to identify me, so I even owe you."
Draco stared at him, dumbfounded. "You're unbelievable."
"So ... what was it that made him want to kill you?"
"I thought you were smart, Potter. Despite your lousy Potions grades."
"Thank goodness! I thought you were going all soft!" Harry mocked him. "Come on, you can do much better, that wasn't even a real insult."
"Fuck you Potter."
Harry smirked, waiting for Draco to come up with something better. The silence stretched on though, and Harry thought of what Draco had said exactly. Voldemort had entered his mind and found thoughts that disgusted him.
"You had a secret crush on Hermione or something?" he blurted out.
Draco nearly choked on his last bit of whisky. "You've got to be kidding! What would I want with a Mu – Muggleborn?"
Harry knew he'd been on the verge of saying 'Mudblood' and he appreciated the effort Draco seemed to make not to offend him. He still couldn't understand why Malfoy seemed to be so normal, so ... nice, even. He understood now that it was also in his benefit that Voldemort had died, that it was good for him to be cut loose from his family ties. But why did he turn all friendly and understanding?
"I don't get why you're all friendly. You really hated me," he voiced his doubts.
"Am I? Friendly?" Draco quirked one eyebrow.
"You are to me."
"To you. Yes. Haven't we established earlier that we're about the only people on this bloody earth who have gone through the same?"
"You got a point there," Harry nodded.
"But if you're concerned about my friendliness, I could rub it in that I had to spell it out for you."
Harry let out a short laugh. "It would make me feel more at ease. It's quite disturbing to talk to you in a civilized way."
"I think it's quite disturbing that you still don't get what I meant. How many drinks have you had before I came in?"
"You wanna know how hammered I am? Come on," Harry stood up abruptly. He quickly took his wallet from his backpocket and paid the bartender, waving away the change. Draco followed his movements closely, but he didn't speak until they were outside.
"You know your way around with Muggle money."
"Actually, I'm living like a Muggle. That way I can avoid the wizarding world as much as possible."
"Why the hell would you want to do that?" Draco said with a disgusted look on his face.
"Nobody knows me. No people running up to me and worshipping me as their savior."
Draco started to laugh, but then realized Harry was serious.
"What?" Harry's face suddenly changed to a cheeky grin. "Don't you think I look good in my Muggle clothes? There's much more choice in them than in cloaks and robes, you know."
Draco allowed himself to look Harry over. He'd been taking secret glances at him all evening, but now he was finally allowed. Harry was wearing faded jeans that fitted around his hips snugly. And the leather jacket surely brought out his broad chest. He'd definitely changed in the last few years.
"Stop looking me up and down. Your clothes could pass for Muggle clothes too," Harry's eyes raked over the other man, noticing the black pants and grey shirt that matched his eyes perfectly.
Draco tore his eyes away, happy that there wasn't much light on the streets they were walking. "Where are we going anyway?"
"You wanted to know how hammered I am. So I thought we could duel."
"Are you out of your mind?" Draco spluttered. "What if Muggles –"
"Not here, you moron. I thought you were smart. Almost as smart as me."
They were so busy glaring at eachother, that they didn't notice the garbage bins lined up on the pavement and walked right into them. They both stumbled and just avoided falling over by grabbing hold of eachother.
"Damn. Both a bit hammered then?" Harry snorted.
"Probably. So? Where are we going?"
"My house of course."
"What? I thought Black left you Grimmauld Place? That's nowhere near here!"
"I don't live there. Have you ever been inside there? It's a ghastly house."
Draco felt a shudder run down Harry's body and realized they were still holding on to eachother's shoulders. He pulled his hands back like he'd burned them, losing his balance again. Harry sniggered and steadied him by putting his hands on his waist. "I'm so gonna win the duel Malfoy."
"You'd wish Potter," Draco glared at him and walked on, trying to let his blush come off as an angry look.
"This way," Harry sniggered even louder when Draco stalked off in the wrong direction.
"Welcome to my humble home."
"Nice," Draco nodded when he saw the two-bedroom-apartment.
"I expected you to comment on how small it is," Harry replied surprised, swaying slightly when he took off his shoes and coat.
"You haven't seen my place."
"Right," Harry now remembered him saying that he didn't live in the Malfoy Manor anymore. He waved his hand at the couch in the living room, gesturing Draco to have a seat. He went into the kitchen and pulled a new bottle of Firewhisky out of his fridge, along with two glasses. He plopped down on the couch uncoordinated, shoving the glasses in Draco's hands and filled them. When Draco slammed his empty glass to the table and stood up, Harry looked up at him hazily.
"Come on! It was your idea to duel. You'd better take off your glasses though, don't want you to get hurt."
Harry grinned stupidly and took them off when he stood up. "Are you kidding me? How can I aim a curse at you when I can't even see you clearly?" he quickly slammed them back on his head, wincing as he hurt his nose.
"Why do you even wear those ugly glasses?"
"You think I look better without them?" Harry grinned, swaying on the spot.
"I didn't say that."
"But you meant it."
"What if I did?" Draco said defensively, inconspicuously trying to lean to the couch for support. Harry frowned and leaned closer to him, looking into the grey eyes. Draco backed away a bit, frightened by his closeness. He felt himself lose balance and tightened his grip on the couch. "I think we'd better cancel the duel. Don't want to wreck your whole apartment."
"It's been wrecked before. I'm getting quite good at repairing spells," Harry shrugged his shoulders unconcerned. "But yeah, we should call it off. I ain't that good at healing spells. How the hell did I come up with the idea of a duel anyway?" he grinned when they both sprawled on the couch clumsily.
"I wanted to know how hammered you are."
"Oh I'm hammered. Just as bad as you," Harry laughed, lightly slapping Draco's arm. "Want another drink?"
"Sure. We're gonna regret this in the morning though."
Harry responded by filling their glasses once again before they sank back in the cushions. There was something nagging in the back of his mind. What had they said just before they left the pub? Why had Draco wanted to know how hammered he was? Right, he'd told him about Voldemort seeing something in his mind that disgusted him. Memories about a special person. It wasn't about Muggle-borns. Draco definitely wasn't into Muggle-borns, he'd made that clear. Then what could possibly – Harry's heart skipped a beat when he realized what Draco had meant to say all along. What those looks had meant. Draco was gay.
Harry's heart stopped altogether when he turned his head and looked into the grey eyes that were much closer to him than he'd expected.
Author's note [May 3rd 2011]:
Yay! I managed to separate this story into chapters, instead of posting it as one hell of a long one-shot! Special thanks to Aeromance for the description how to do it :)
Thanks to everybody who left a review so far, I really really appreciate it! A sandwich-hug from Harry and Draco for all of you!
