The Man Who Stole Draco's Heart
One-Shot
Written by: chochowilliams
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the characters, places or names. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Summary: A chance encounter ends up leading to a bright future for a couple of ex-rivals.
Warning: Post-Hogwarts, Non Epilogue Compliant, past & present M/F, Pre-slash
Pairings: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, mentioned Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley and Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger
Inserts: -
A/N: Please enjoy and remember to leave a review.
I
A hum of conversation surrounded thirty-two year old Harry Potter as he sat sipping tea at Solomons' and reading the paper.
Solomon Smith and Solomon Daniels opened Solomons' the previous fall. The restaurant was an instant success with both patrons as well as critics. Both Solomons-along with thousands of others-were fans of the original Solomon's, which opened a hundred-twenty-five years ago by Solomon Sczency. When Sczency decided to retire last spring, Smith and Daniels-chefs and childhood friends-bought the restaurant. For the most part, the Solomons' of today was the same as it always was, though Smith and Daniels had added their own spin to the Diagon Alley staple.
The grand opening of Solomons' was reported in the first issue of the revamped Daily Prophet.
He made a mental note to speak with Maryse about making sure all the articles are double-and triple-checked before going to print. That was one of the problems with magical schools focusing solely on magical skills; all non-magical skills such as knowing the difference between "their", "there" and "they're" seem to fall by the wayside.
About two years ago, Rita Skeeter-the then star reporter for the Prophet who was known to sensationalize and outright lie in her articles-said the wrong thing about the wrong person. And for the first time in the history of the Daily Prophet, a lawsuit was brought forth against Wizarding Britain's oldest newspaper as well as their star reporter.
Despite the predictability of the Prophet making themselves out to be the victims, in the end the plaintiff won. Less than twenty-four hours later, the Prophet declared bankruptcy and was put up for sale. Against the protestations of most of his friends and family, including Ginny, Ron and Hermione, Harry bought the newspaper.
His first act was to fire the entire staff-at least that was what he wanted to do. Instead, he conducted an audit of the employees-including fulltime, part-time, contractual and freelance employees. Ultimately, more than three-quarters of those employed at the Prophet were let go. To Harry's immense pleasure and satisfaction, this included Rita Skeeter.
Harry honestly had no idea what happened to the blonde menace after she was fired and frankly, he did not care. What he did know was that she was persona non grata thanks to the lawsuit. Even if the lawsuit had been thrown out or if judgment had ruled in favor of Skeeter and the Prophet, it would not have changed anything. Just being named in a lawsuit was enough incentive for most to put as much distance between the journalist and themselves as possible. She was too much of a liability and nobody-in his or her right mind anyway-wanted to take the risk of a possible lawsuit, especially after she proudly admitted during the trial that yes, she did "fudge" the truth whenever she could.
"After all, what's the point in reporting the news if it isn't exciting?"
To top off an already marvelous summer, an anonymous tip was delivered to the Head Auror himself via a greater sooty owl about unregistered animagi-such as, say, a beetle for example-who have the ability to come and go as they please despite the numerous wards that may be in place. During the next session of the Wizengamot, a bill was introduced to erect wards that would bar these pests from any unauthorized entry. It was passed unanimously and enacted before the next session took place. It was a safe bet that a certain blonde-haired reporter had not been too pleased.
Life was great.
…For the most part.
Folding the newspaper and setting it aside, Harry took a sip of his tea and grimaced when he got a mouth full of tea leaves instead. Setting the plain white teacup back into its matching saucer with a clink, he reached for the condensation-covered glass of ice water and took a large gulp to wash away the foul taste in his mouth.
"Refill?" asked a soft voice.
"Just the check please," Harry told the young woman who blushed scarlet when he met her dark gaze.
"Right away." She turned and scurried away, peering back at him over her shoulder before vanishing from sight.
"Shame on you Potter. She is young enough to be your daughter," drawled an all too familiar voice behind him.
Harry snorted. "Yeah, if I was fourteen when she was born."
"Whatever catches your fancy Potter," the blond aristocrat said as he slid into the seat opposite Harry.
"Speaking from experience Malfoy?"
"Hardly," was the reply said with a sneer.
"A waitress not good enough to warm the bed of Lord Malfoy?"
"No," Draco said without any preamble.
Harry cocked an eyebrow at the abruptness of the answer as well as the lack of detail. "Not going to tell me about the long line of eager pureblood suitors or how she is but a babe barely out of diapers?"
"That goes without saying."
When there was no clarification as to which of the two Draco was referring or, for that matter, anything else forthcoming from the man, Harry cleared his throat in an attempt to dispel the sudden awkwardness he was feeling. "So, to what do I owe the honor?" Harry asked as he settled back in the chair, his hands folded against his abdomen.
"I could ask you the same," Draco returned. "Are you stalking me?"
"Most definitely," Harry confessed in open amusement.
"Thought as much." Draco perked suddenly, a twisted smirk on his face. "Speaking of which…"
"Here you are Mr. Potter," announced his waitress when she sidled up to the table. She set on the table before him a black bill folder with "Thank You" etched at the bottom right corner. "Just let me know when you're ready and I'll take the check up for you."
"Thanks," Harry said with a smile and a nod.
Flushing as red as the setting sun, the young woman scurried off with a giggle and multiple glances from over her shoulder.
"Charming," Draco deadpanned as the girl walked right into a pillar.
Harry chuckled. "She reminds me of Tonks."
Draco hummed.
Reaching into the money pouch hidden within an inner pocket of his robes, Harry pulled out nine sickles and tucked them into the money pouch attached to the bill folder. Then-after making sure everything was in order-signed his name on the bottom of the check, which gave Solomons' permission to bill his Gringotts' account directly.
"9 sickles?" Draco exclaimed with a cocked eyebrow. "That is more than the check itself."
"Only by a few knuts."
"Still…"
Harry shrugged as took another sip of water.
"Still as odd as ever."
Harry snorted. "…So?" he said into silence that settled between the pair.
"So what?"
"You never answered my question. Why are you here? Checking out the competition?"
"Please," Draco sneered with open distain. "They'd have to be a threat to be considered competition and Solomons' isn't even in the same league as Elegance."
"Hm. Well, you're right about that, especially considering that a cuppa cost-what? A galleon? Minimum"
"Hey! This is not your average store-shelf variety of tea I will have you know. We serve Darjeeling from Nepal, Silver Tipped from the Makaibari estate, and even Tieguanyin from China."
Harry nodded. "Which makes Elegance the most expensive place in Britain-wizard or otherwise-to have a cuppa," Harry announced. "It also happens to have the best tea in all of Britain."
A rosy tint colored Draco's pale complexion. Maybe that was why he tilted his nose in the air with that haute air that seemed to come so naturally to him. "Then why are you at Solomon's instead of Elegance?"
Harry cocked an eyebrow. "Did you miss the part where I said Elegance was the most expensive-?"
"Never knew you were so frugal," Draco sneered, "especially since you just tipped the waitress 9 sickles."
"Frugal he says," Harry snorted. "This coming from the same man who refused to give his waitstaff a raise?"
Draco huffed. "That is not even close to being the same-"
"Whatever you say Draco," Harry replied, chuckling lightly at the flush creeping up the other's throat.
Silence only broken by the clinking of ice enveloped the two for several minutes.
"By the way," Draco drawled, eying his once rival from across the table, "heard the Weaselette married Chet Langley."
"Last week," Harry agreed with a lazy shrug as he reached for his water.
Chet Langley was seeker for the Chudley Cannons and some say the sole reason why the once worst team in the world has won the British Quidditch Cup three years in a row. Standing at six foot two with hair as red as a robin and as thin as a toothpick, Chet Langley shot to fame when he filled in for the then team's seeker Charles "Fly Boy" Kittle during a game against their rivals and won. It was the first time in more years than anyone wanted to admit that that happened. With Langley as seeker, the Chudley Cannons became a team to contend with. By the time Kittle returned to full health and took back his place as seeker, the Cannons had risen in the ranks to the top five for the first time in a century. However, within a month of Kittle's return, the team dropped back into last place. At the end of the season, Kittle was traded to the Hampshire Humdingers and Chet Langley was promoted to first string. The Cannons have been the number one team in the league ever since.
According to Hermione, Ron has been even more impossible to live with than normal.
Harry set the glass back down, fascinated by the water rings in the slick surface of the wooden tabletop. When he lifted his gaze, wiping his wet fingers on his napkin, he caught sight of Draco watching him with a strange expression. "What?"
"Doesn't it bother you?"
Harry frowned in confusion. "What doesn't bother me?"
"That the Weaselette is now Mrs. Chet Langley."
Harry blinked long and slow. "Why would it?"
"Because it was not too long ago that she was Mrs. Harry Potter."
Harry continued to stare at Draco, his expression blank. "So?"
"So," Draco drawled, "I was under the impression that you were in love with the she-weasel."
"Once upon a time."
"But not anymore?" It was more statement than question.
Harry shrugged. "Shit happens."
Draco hummed his agreement.
II
"You want to know something?"
Ten minutes later, the two were strolling side by side down Diagon Alley.
"What's that?" Draco asked. He stopped to study an artist's rendering of the new Storm V racing broom set to be released just in time for the Yule holiday.
"I introduced Ginny to her new husband."
Draco's stoic expression did not convey the shock this confession elicited within him. He allowed himself only a raised eyebrow. "I'm sorry. What was that?" There was no more emotion in his voice than if they were discussing the weather.
"Ironic huh?"
Draco turned from the display window of Quality Quidditch Supplies towards Harry who was staring as if hypnotized at the play of light from the crystals in the display window of Spiritually Rooted across the street.
Confused, Draco frowned.
"We'd been having problems for a while by that point," Harry continued, his voice distant. "I'd gotten tickets from Langley to the British Quidditch Cup in thanks for catching the person who assaulted his mother."
"Really?" Draco asked in disbelief.
Harry grinned, though his unblinking gaze was still somewhere faraway. "Jealous?"
Draco huffed. "Of course not. Unlike some people, there are those of us who are not cheapskates."
Harry snickered.
Ginny and he had not worked out as a couple for a variety of reasons, and for a long time. It had taken them as long as it had to finally call it quits because both had been in denial.
"Anyway," Harry continued somberly, "Ron was supposed to go with Martin-"
Martin was Roger Martin. He was Ron's auror partner. Harry and Ron had wanted to work together but for a variety of reasons had not been able to. Instead, Ron went through half a dozen partners until he found the perfect partner in Roger Martin. Personally, Harry found Martin to be a self-centered, egotistical asshole. That Harry had not been able to stand the man-even though Merlin knew Harry had tried for his best mate's sake-had been the beginning of the end for Harry and Ron's friendship.
"-but Martin had to bail at the last minute when his daughter went into labor, so Ron asked Georges."
Georges was Harry's longtime auror partner Lydia Georges who was on the fast track to becoming Head Auror.
"She is nearly as fanatical about the Cannons as Ron," Harry huffed out a snort.
"Sounds like a match made in Elysium."
"Right? Of course she jumped at the chance to go."
While neither he nor Ginny were Cannons fans, they were quidditch fans, so of course they were not going to miss the opportunity to be part of the biggest event of the year. It seemed like the perfect opportunity for them to work on their marriage.
Unfortunately, things did not work out as planned.
"Potter?"
Tearing his gaze away from the display window of Spiritually Rooted, Harry met Draco's worried gaze. He offered the blond restaurateur a smile. Then turned to watch a couple of children race passed. "By the end of the first quarter, Ginny and I hadn't said more than a dozen words to one another. Then Georges and I were called to the scene of a robbery in progress."
Draco eyed the ex-Auror. "Really Potter?"
"I know," Harry sighed. "But we were on call. There was nothing we could do."
"Bet that went over real well," Draco deadpanned.
Harry snorted. There had been no need to say a word. The message had arrived via patronus. He had stepped out into the relative quite of the hallway for some privacy and when he'd stepped back into the private box that Langley had provided, without turning away from the game, Ginny said, "Just go."
They'd had more than one fight about how his co-workers saw Harry more than she did. As much as he wanted it to be, unfortunately that accusation was not much of an exaggeration. But Harry could say the same of Ginny. As an athlete, she was away for weeks at a time. Her teammates say her more than he did.
It could be argued that Ginny knew exactly what she was getting herself into when she married him, but knowing something and experiencing it were very different.
It was more than their work schedules that drove them apart. It was also time. When they married, both he and Ginny were children. Yes, in the eyes of the Ministry, they might have been adults, and the ravages of war might have forced them to grow up more quickly than either of them would have liked, but really, they had been mere babes. He could say that with absolute certainty now that he was older. Ginny and he had become too serious too young. As was inevitable with children, they grew up and in the process, grew apart. The British Quidditch Cup had been an opportunity to recapture what brought them together all those years ago. Harry had known even back then that the Cup was the last chance to put their relationship to rights. It was a chance he messed up when he got that call. There'd been no going back after that.
Harry laughed. Even to his ears, it sounded a bit crazed. "As it turned out, there was no burglar, just the son sneaking back into the house."
"And why didn't you request the day off?" Draco asked as if that had been an obvious solution that went overlooked.
"I did," Harry told him. "But it was rescinded that very morning because of the Dragon Pox outbreak."
"Ah yes." Draco remembered the epidemic well. All those whom had not been vaccinated against the disease had contracted it, including his then father-in-law. Most died. Since the once believed to be eradicated disease seemed to have originated within the Auror department of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, it was believed that Patient O, who most believe to be an Auror named Kyle Brutus, contracted it while chasing a suspect in China.
"Over half the department got sick, so the rest of us were called in to work overtime."
"Bet the Weaselette was not happy about that," Draco said as the two of them moved on from the quidditch shop.
Harry snorted. Ginny hadn't said a word when he told her that his day off had been canceled. She just pursed her lips together until they practically vanished. In fact, she'd frightfully resembled her mother in that moment. Yes, Ginny had not been too pleased. But since he and Georges had been at the bottom of the call list, Harry had figured the possibility of being called in were slim. Oh how wrong he had been.
Ginny had had every right to be angry with him. Once again, he had broken a promise. What he had not appreciated was her accusation that he had been looking for an excuse to get away from her. Though he'd chalked it up to the heat of the moment, it still stung.
"What happened?"
"Well," Harry breathed, settling upon a bench outside a bakery. The delicious aroma pouring out the open door made his mouth water and his stomach rumble despite the fact that he just ate. "By the time Georges and I returned, the game was over; the Cannons having won when Langley-"
"Yes, yes," Draco waved the play-by-play aside. "Moving on."
Harry chuckled. "Anyway, we were both disappointed that we'd missed the game, but figured there was always next year."
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry caught sight of a familiar head of brown curls disappear into a shop farther down the street. From the angle, he was not sure with absolute certainty which store it was, but given who the person was, it wasn't much of a stretch of the imagination to assume the store was in fact a bookstore. He quickly looked away.
He jumped, startled, when a cold hand covered his own.
"You still love her."
There was no need to ask who "her" was.
Turning his hand over, Harry laced their fingers together. "Yes and no," he answered. "Ginny was my first love. She was the one who made me realize that I could love." He smiled at Draco when the potions master turned restaurateur gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "I think I'll always love her. Just as I'll always wonder, 'What if…?'" Breathing out a long drawn out breath, Harry slumped over sideways to rest his head on Draco's wide muscular shoulder. "But I am no longer in love with her. I've moved on and so has she."
Draco hummed. Lifting their joined hands, he draped his arm around Harry's shoulders; their clasped hands fell across Harry's chest like a seatbelt. Draco's shoulder grew cold when Harry was forced to lift his head from Draco's shoulder momentarily to accommodate the shift, but was quick to replace it.
"Like I said, the game was over. People were pouring out of the stadium. The Cannons fans were going bonkers. By the time we made it back to our seats in the private box, a few members of the team were there." That right there went to show how long it took to fight the crowd as it usually took some time before members of a sports team were free to go-what with having to shower, change and give interviews. "Ron looked as if Christmas had come early. He wasn't so much speaking with as he was drooling over Jacob Michaelski and the Bartleby twins. And Ginny…She was off in the corner with Chet Langley. The way she was looking at him….I hadn't seen her like that in a long time. She was smitten. That was when I knew."
Draco kissed the top of Harry's head. "I'm sorry."
Harry shrugged
The two sat in comfortable silence enjoying one another's company and expertly ignoring the gawkers.
"Will you ever tell me what happened between you and Weasley and Granger?" Draco asked several minutes later.
There was a catch in Harry's throat at the thought of his first and best friends. He hadn't spoken to Ron-in a civilization manner-since the British Quidditch Cup where his marriage to Ginny had ended. On the other hand, he spoke with Hermione every once in a great while, but it was more the conversation of a casual acquaintance than anything.
"Maybe some day." Deciding it was time to uplift the melancholy mood, Harry extracted himself from Draco's embrace and stood up. "How about some ice cream?" he suggested. "I'll even allow you to pay." Without waiting for a reply, Harry started across the street to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. Though Florean himself had not survived the war, his only son-who had been taken to Canada by his mother when he was but a child-had returned to England after the war and reopened his father's shop.
"You are ever so kind Harry," Draco called after the man.
"I know," Harry smirked over his shoulder. "Think of it as-an early Christmas present."
With his heart having skipped a beat and a pleased smirk plastered onto his face, Draco followed the man whom had stolen his heart.
…The End
A/N: In case you are wondering, 9 sickles is equivalent to $5.31 USD.