Title:Peace
Author:bleedforyou1
Pairing:Harry/Draco
Rating:PG
Beta:vanessawolfie
Summary:Harry and Draco try to find some peace after the War.
Word count:2, 385
Warnings:slash.
Note: :)
Peace.
Draco Malfoy didn't think he'd ever feel peace again, but here it was, filling his belly in a slow, lilting way.
He was sitting on the dirty floor in the dirty shack, covered head to foot in bloodstains and grime. Exhaustion and sadness had threatened to overwhelm him as he watched the Healers carry away Professor Snape's body.
After a few hours of sitting there, alone, however…that sadness had melted slightly. His parents were okay—the Aurors had taken them to Azkaban, where they would be kept in safe-hold until their trials. They had stared at him for a while, unsure as to what to do with him, until his mother told them that they would come without any complaints if they left him.
With a final hug and kiss goodbye, his parents promised him they would be seeing him soon and they left him at Hogwarts. He had wandered around for a while, not seeing anyone he would want to 'celebrate' with. When he had seen several Healers go into an underground pathway behind the Whomping Willow, his curiosity got the better of him.
They carted out Snape, and a few tears fell from Draco's face, because this was his mentor. The only professor who taught him more than just what was in the classroom. He was originally supposed to be Draco's godfather, but Lucius had found out that he was a half-blood, and that was not on for a Malfoy.
But Draco didn't give a rat's arse about whose blood was running through whose veins anymore. He just wanted peace.
Now, sitting in the middle of what he realized to be the Shrieking Shack, he had found it. He sighed softly and moved back, leaning his head back against the wall. What a sight he must be! His blonde hair was covered in soot and he laughed when he saw the grime underneath his usually-immaculate fingertips. His clothes were singed and tattered and he must look like he was homeless. He hadn't slept or eaten for two days now, and his heart seemed old and fragile. How many had died? He didn't know, but the Great Hall had seemed to be full of death.
But without Potter, there would be so much more death. He thought about how Potter had looked when he finally defeated the Dark Lord—like an avenging angel that came down to defeat the reigning evil. Draco looked down at his Dark Mark and was surprised to see that it had faded…it was now only a glimmer of the shadow it used to be.
Suddenly, he heard a thudding noise and he looked up in surprise. His peace was eradicated as he saw a figure limp into the shack, huffing and groaning in something that was obviously pain. Alarmed, Draco sat up as the figure came in and looked towards where Draco was sitting across the room.
It was a sheer surprise when he was eye to eye with Potter, himself, the avenging angel.
But he no longer had the look of an angel. He looked…well, he looked as if he really had died when the Dark Lord said he did.
"I…" Potter breathed, and then swayed for a second. Draco watched in increasing alarm as Potter closed his eyes and then promptly fainted.
"Potter?" Draco ambled up, rushing over to see where the Chosen One had fell.
With shaky hands, he nudged the teenager and pushed him over onto his back. Merlin, he looked horrible. He was much, much dirtier than Draco, with bloodstains and a starved look on his face. Exhausted, broken and most likely starving, the Saviour had just fainted, and Draco was the only one here to witness it.
Peace.
Harry's body felt warm and comfortable. Well, not entirely comfortable, his mind told him. His spine ached and his stomach felt as if he hadn't eaten in days—which he really hadn't.
His eyes still closed, he felt thin, lithe fingers press against various parts of his body as he heard small healing charms being muttered. He must be in the Hospital Wing then.
But he hadn't remembered going to the Hospital Wing. He rather remembered going into the Shrieking Shack. He didn't know why he felt like going there, but after all the sadness and grief that was enveloped in the Great Hall, he just wanted peace.
The fingers then pressed into his shoulder and he grunted as his eyes welled in pain. Fuck, that had hurt.
"Hm, broken." He heard a soft voice murmur.
Harry's eyes fluttered in surprise. Oh yes, he remembered now. He had come into the Shrieking Shack only to find Malfoy sitting in the corner cross-legged, looking like a haunted little thing, bruised and dirty, but still more glamorous and beautiful than any boy should be.
Opening his eyes, Harry looked up into Malfoy's calculating grey ones.
"Oh good, you're awake. I thought we had lost our Saviour before the celebrating had even begun," Malfoy said, one corner of his lips rising.
Harry stared in shock. Malfoy was smiling at him. Malfoy was smiling at him.
"This is weirder than the King's Cross station," Harry muttered to himself.
"Excuse me?" Draco asked, his blond eyebrows knitting together in confusion.
"Nothing," Harry mumbled, looking away. "What are you doing?"
"I'm attempting to mend at least a few of your injuries before I cart you over to Madame Pompfrey."
"Mend…my injuries? But…why?" Harry asked, perplexed.
"Well," Draco sighed, moving his wand over Harry's arm. "I'd rather not have your death on my hands. Especially since you did save my life."
Harry laid still and silent as he watched Draco heal his various scratches. He wonderedwhyhe was allowing Malfoy to have his wand anywhere near his body, but he supposed Malfoy was somewhat harmless.
"Why are you in the Shrieking Shack?" Harry asked after a moment.
Draco's eyes had a twinkle that Harry had never seen before. Much weirder than the King's Cross station…
"I'm attempting to sort out the various species of Pygmy Puff. Would you like to help? I've made charts on their colonization efforts around the world and I need a rather bold person to go and encounter their wild habitats."
Harry smiled, staring at the blond's open face. For the first time, he thought he wouldn't mind becoming friends with the man.
20 years later…
"DAD!" Scorpius' voice was loud as he thundered through the hallways of their cottage.
"Yes dear, I'm in the study," Draco called out, his voice sounding weary even to himself.
"You sound old," Harry snickered from his spot on the other side of his desk.
"Shut it, prat," Draco said, rolling his eyes. He waited until Score burst through the door, his blond hair mussed and his grey eyes wild.
"Dad, me and Al have to show you and Harry something! Come look! Outside!" The 12 year old said excitedly as he ran off.
Sighing, both Harry and Draco stood up. Harry's back popped noticeably and Draco snickered this time.
"Now who sounds old?"
"Shut it, git," Harry laughed, pushing at Draco's shoulder as they made their way downstairs.
Draco opened the back glass door and they went outside, the cool summer breeze flowing through their hair. The backyard really was a masterpiece, and Draco was glad his mother had made the garden by the creek, because it gave it a real comfortable feel.
"Draco! Dad! Look!" Al was saying wildly, pointing at something on the ground by the creek. Draco and Harry both ambled over, leaning to see what their sons were pointing out. The boys were off for Christmas break, and today was the last day before they had to go back, so Draco had invited Al and Harry over for lunch and tea.
"Oh! Score, Al, get away from that!" Draco said in surprise, pulling the boys away.
"I didn't touch it," Score said in a rather imperious tone. "Al dared me to, but I didn't!"
"Shut it, prat!" Al nudged his best friend.
"No, you shut it, git!"
"Al, Score, don't fight," Harry muttered. "And it's just a bird, Draco."
"It's not just a bird," Draco huffed. "It could be diseased!"
Harry laughed and shook his head, using his wand to pick up the unmoving bird and bring it into the cottage.
"Don't bring that thing into my house, Harry!" Draco ran after him. "It's dirty and not sterile—"
"Oh come on, Draco, have a heart."
"Yeah, yeah," Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm always the one without a heart."
"Not always," Harry chuckled. "In fact, I rather like your heart. Very… hearty."
Harry leered at him. Draco blushed and rolled his eyes again. "Not in front of the boys."
"Yes, sir," Harry quipped. Draco laughed, swatting at Harry's shoulder as he leaned over the bird as well. "You're the Healer here, Mr. Malfoy. What do you think we should do?"
"I think we should send it back outside. Let nature take its course and such."
"Draco! Please! Can you heal him so that Score and I can keep him?" Al said, his chin just above the counter. Draco remembered when he was too young to even see over the counter of their kitchen. The boy really was an adorable little thing, and most likely always would be in Draco's eyes. He was his godfather, after all.
"I already have an owl, and Bridget would be very enraged if she had to share her cage."
"What does enraged mean?" Al asked, scratching at his hair just like his father did when he was confused.
"It means angry. Furious," Score rolled his eyes, just like his father did when he explained something.
Draco and Harry both laughed—their sons were so much like them, but so different as well. They had grown up without all the pain and suffering, and had become best friends since childhood. James and Lily Potter also enjoyed coming over, but both of them were over at Weasley's house at the moment, with their mother.
"Draco, when are we going to have lunch? I'm starving," Al asked.
"You're not starving, Al. How many times have I told you not to exaggerate?" Harry chuckled. "You've never been starving, thank Merlin."
"Al's stomach is like an empty wasteland that just feels the need to be filled up at inveterate times," Scorpius said.
Draco, Harry and Albus all muttered "Ravenclaw" under their breaths and broke out in laughter. Albus was a Gryffindor himself, and while the two couldn't be more different, they still made each other complete with their friendship.
"Lunch will be in a bit, once I get your father to stop talking and start cooking," Draco smirked.
"Yeah, whatever," Harry said.
"Okay, we have a very serious question for you." Score's voice sounded ages older than twelve when they sat down on the table and began to eat lunch. The bird was currently in a shoebox, sleeping after Draco had preformed a few Healing spells on it.
Harry looked over at his son's best friend and smiled. He really was a wonderful little boy—smart and witty, with a soft heart. But then, Harry was biased; he was his godfather after all.
"What is your serious question, darling?" Draco asked, scooping more potato salad into both Score's and Albus' plates.
"Are you two dating?" Albus blurted out.
The room went dead silent as Harry and Draco looked at each other in surprise.
"Er, we're, uh—" Harry began to stutter. "Well, when two people—"
"Yes," Draco said in a matter-of-fact tone.
Harry glanced at him in amusement. "We were originally going to tell the whole family soon, since we think you're all old enough now, but…" Harry shrugged helplessly.
"Are you happy?" Score asked, his calculating stare flickering between his father and Harry.
"Very," Draco smiled. He took Harry's hand in his and Harry grinned.
"Yes, very happy."
Al turned to Score and grinned, and Harry was struck again by how similar they were to their fathers. "I toldyou so."
"Well," Score sniffed. "I said it could be true. I never said it wasn't."
"Whatever, know-it-all."
"Gryffindork."
"Enough, boys," Draco said mildly, stroking the inside of Harry's thumb with his own.
"Dad, don't worry about James and Lily. We all still love you. Plus, after you and mom got a divorce, we all kind of knew you had a thing for Draco."
Harry blushed and shook his head at his son. "You all are too smart for us. We thought it would be too soon. Draco and Astoria separated years ago, but your mom and I finalized the divorce only a few months from today."
"But you really like Draco like that. You never looked at mom the way you look at Draco," Al shrugged, wisdom deep in those green eyes.
"Plus, now we'll be brothers if you two get married," Score grinned. "I've always wanted siblings."
Harry looked at Draco and saw that his pale cheeks had a tint of pink to them, as if he really were a blushing bride.
"They're not that great," Al said, rolling his eyes. "But I bet you'll be loads better than James. And not as whiny as Lily."
"Al," Harry scolded with no real reprimand to it. "Don't talk about your brother and sister like that."
"Yeah, don't talk about my new brother and sister like that," Score laughed.
"Finish your lunch, you two," Draco smiled. "We'll talk later, yes?"
Harry remembered the day that he first saw Draco smile that soft little smile at him. In the Shrieking Shack, when they were both dirty and blood-stained, weary from the War and of each other.
Draco had really taken care of him that day, and he claimed it was in debt of saving his life. Harry knew better—he knew Draco really just wanted to be his friend after being rejected so many years ago. And now, holding his hand and watching their sons eat together, Harry wondered what it would have been like if they had been lovers from the start—but then again, they wouldn't have the kids…
No, this was exactly the thing destiny had in store for them. And Harry couldn't wait to see what was next.
