Title: Shelter
Rating: T at the moment for safety, but it'll most likely increase
Summary and pairing: "You didn't see him. It was easy for us – black and white. We were on the good side, and the Malfoys – well, Lucius, certainly, and to an extent Narcissa – were on the bad side. But Draco was torn between what he felt was right and what he felt was right by his family. And after everything that had happened, I couldn't leave him, go back to those old, petty school rivalries when he was clearly in desperate need of a friend. I just couldn't. It would've defeated the entire point of what we'd been fighting for." Harry/Draco
Author's note: We know a lot about how the Trio ended up, both through the epilogue in Deathly Hallows and through little bits and pieces JK Rowling has told us in interviews, on her website etc. But we're not told about what happened to everyone in the immediate aftermath of the War. This is my idea of what happened to Harry and Draco - and others - between the end of the War and the epiloge. My unending gratitude goes to the contributors of the Harry Potter wikia page - in my never-ending quest to keep this story as canon-compliant as possible I have used that website more times than I can count. Read, review, enjoy!
"Blimey, look at Malfoy! The years haven't been kind to him, have they?"
"Ron! What kind of example are you setting the children?" Hermione admonished sternly.
Harry had expected to see Draco at the platform, sending his son off to Hogwarts at the same time as Harry himself was Albus – but it didn't mean he was any more prepared to see Draco, almost twenty years older than when he'd last seen him - and with a wife and child in tow to boot. He had a vague memory of Draco's son, Scorpius, being born at a similar time as Albus and Rose, Ron and Hermione's daughter. In the background, Harry could hear Ron giving Rose an encouraging talk about making sure she beat him in every test, Hermione sighing exasperatedly.
Draco raised his head and met Harry's eyes, giving him a nod of recognition and a slight smile. His wife, a slender dark-haired woman followed Draco's gaze and tugged at his elbow, bringing Draco's attention back to their son, the absolute image of Draco himself.
"That was odd," Hermione remarked, turning to Harry. "Did… Did Draco smile at you? Have you two even spoken since he and his family disappeared after the battle?" Hermione's brows were furrowed slightly. Harry and Ginny exchanged looks.
"We've, well, I've been keeping in contact with Draco. Just off and on, you know. Cards at Christmas, the occasional letter, just to see how each other are doing."
Ron stared incredulously. "But, why? You do remember who this is we're talking about, don't you? This is Malfoy, Harry; this isn't like one of the people from Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw we shared the occasional class with." Harry took a deep breath before elaborating.
"Not long after the Battle, after I left The Burrow, I bumped into him in London. He was practically on the run from both those who remembered that had sided with Voldemort as well as the former Death Eaters who remembered that he and his family had stayed with us."
"Bloody cowards," Ron muttered, receiving an elbow to the ribs and a very pointed look at Hugo from Hermione, who was holding his mother's hand and looking up, eyes like saucers, at Harry.
"I think what Ron's trying to say, Harry," Hermione continued, striving for diplomacy, "is, why did you and he agree to keep in contact with each other? You had nothing in common through school, apart from a mutual hatred and suspicion of each other, and when the going got tough at the end of the battle, not only did he side with Voldemort despite you saving his life – twice, but he and his family practically disappeared afterwards and managed to avoid prosecution because they switched sides right at the end."
"I couldn't leave him there, Hermione," Harry replied quietly, conscious that Draco could probably hear them. "You didn't see him. It was easy for us – black and white. We were on the good side, and the Malfoys – well, Lucius, certainly, and to an extent Narcissa – were on the bad side. But Draco was torn between what he felt was right and what he felt was right by his family. And after everything that had happened, I couldn't leave him, go back to those old, petty school rivalries when he was clearly in desperate need of a friend. I just couldn't. It would've defeated the entire point of what we'd been fighting for."
The train whistle blew, and Hermione suddenly snapped out of her thoughts. "Oh my god, it's about to leave!" She ran to the window of the compartment where Rose was sitting with James and Albus. "Bye, darling!" she said, blinking back tears and reaching for Rose's hand through the window. "Write to me as often as you can, and make sure you try your hardest in lessons – but being top isn't everything, sweetheart."
Ron raised an eyebrow. "That's definitely a first from your mother!"
"Ignore your father, Rose. Have a safe journey, be good!" Hermione called as her daughter gave her one final, slightly manic wave, and turned back to face the others in the compartment. The train whistle blew once more and slowly it began to pull out of the station. Ron handed her a handkerchief. "Oh god, I didn't think it'd be this hard, waving her off to start school!"
Ginny patted her shoulder comfortingly. "It gets easier every year," she said, smiling. "Doesn't it, Harry?"
Harry tore his eyes away from the Malfoys, who were striding away from the platform, heads bowed. "Hmm? Oh, yes, it really does, Hermione. Just wait, by the time Hugo's ready to go off you'll be grateful to get shot of him!"
Hermione tried to smile but her lower lip was quivering and her eyes filling with tears. Ron reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. "I think we'll take that as our cue to head home," he said, jokingly. "We still on for dinner next weekend?" Ginny nodded. "Brilliant. See you then, then. Come on, Hugo – I think your mum's got some jobs lined up for the two of us to get started on once we're home." The three waved to Harry, Ginny and their daughter, and walked away.
Harry sighed and Ginny turned to face him, rubbing his arm. "You okay?" He nodded.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. It's just… It's weird, seeing him again. When it's just letters, I can forget that he really exists and he's married and he has a son Albus's age…"
Ginny laughed. "Harry, you have three children, and only one of them," she said, stroking Lily's hair, "hasn't left us yet!" She kissed him lightly. "Come on, let's go home." Harry smiled, put his arm around her waist and reached for Lily with his free hand, and the three left the platform and slipped back into the Muggle world, unnoticed.
19 years earlier
"Harry, I – I don't think I can do this. Not tonight." Ginny pulled the sheets over her chest and turned to face Harry, lying next to her in her bed in the Burrow. "It's just, it feels like we've just buried Fred, it doesn't feel right." Harry ran his fingers through her hair.
"Yeah, it feels wrong to me, too." He sighed and sat up, rubbing his face. "I don't know, I thought, naively, I suppose – that after the battle, the two of us would just pick up from where we left off." Ginny smiled slightly.
"So did I. But then again, it's not like either of us imagined Fred leaving us…" She trailed off and bit her lip as tears filled her eyes. Harry gently wiped them away with the pad of his thumb, and kissed her cheek. She swallowed. "Maybe the best thing to do is just to put this on hold for a bit. Give us both time to sort ourselves out, decide what we're going to do now, rather than rushing into anything when neither of us have any idea about what'll happen next."
Harry nodded. "It's not what I really want, but it's definitely what's best for both of us," he agreed. "I'll probably go back to Grimmauld Place, see if I can do anything to it to make it a bit more welcoming feeling. Any time you want to visit, help me, I don't know, hang new wallpaper, try to get rid of that portrait of Mrs. Black, you know how to get there." Ginny smiled and curled herself around Harry, wrapping her arm around his waist.
"And you know, the Burrow's always here if you want some home comforts, or a hideously patterned jumper," she said, laughing.
"I might take you up on that offer," Harry joked. "I've really felt bereft of some very… interesting jumpers in the past few years." He curled a strand of her hair around his finger and leaned down to kiss her. It lasted longer than either of them expected – somehow, deep down, it seemed like they'd both sensed that this would be their last kiss like this for quite some time.
"Goodnight, Harry," Ginny whispered, removing the Imperturbable Charm from her bedroom door and snuggling down under the covers.
"G'night, Ginny," Harry replied, quietly.
The next morning, before Ginny or anyone else in the house had stirred, Harry kissed Ginny lightly on the forehead and slipped out of bed, leaving a note in the kitchen for the family.
I thought you all could do with some time to yourselves. If you need me, I'll be at Grimmauld Place. Take care, all of you.
Harry
He Disapparated once outside the Burrow, and reappeared on the steps of number twelve. As soon as he stepped through the door, the spectre of Dumbledore came rushing towards him. Harry listlessly told it, "I didn't kill you", and it disintegrated. He made a mental note to remove all of Moody's protective spells from the house – with Voldemort gone, the Order disbanded and all of the Death Eaters in hiding and certain to be sent to Azkaban, it no longer seemed necessary to protect the house to the same extent. He shrugged his bag onto the floor in the hallway and wandered downstairs into the kitchen, wishing that Kreacher was there to make him some breakfast.
"Kreacher?"
His words hung in the still house, and it soon became apparent that Kreacher was not there, and was making no attempt to leave wherever he was. Perhaps he'd decided to obey Harry's last order to him, maybe as a way of thanking Harry for finally treating him with the respect Hermione had always maintained he deserved.
Harry sat at the kitchen table, studying the marks decorating its surface. Carved initials (SB and RAB sitting alongside RW and, to Harry's immense surprise, a tiny, very dainty HG), a burn mark from where a hot pan had been placed hurriedly on the bare wood, scratches where someone had been writing without anything between the parchment and the table – all signs that the kitchen had, at one time, been a hive of activity. He half expected there to be a sudden increase in volume as the rest of the house's inhabitants awoke and came clattering downstairs, for the door to open and for someone, Lupin, perhaps, or maybe even Sirius himself, to come through into the kitchen, muttering about Mad-Eye's ridiculous procedures and protective spells to keep everyone safe and how much of a hassle they were. This was the first time he'd been here on his own, he realised. It was not an entirely pleasant realisation, and he found himself longing for some noise, some company, some proof that there were other people out there.
Harry stood up and walked to where he'd left his bag, reaching for his Invisibility Cloak when he changed his mind. He didn't need to hide anymore. Feeling freer than he had in years, he Disapparated to Diagon Alley, happy to see that while trade hadn't yet returned to normal, it was certainly looking better than the last time he'd been there. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes's storefront, at first lively and surrounded by passers-by, was still. Harry was touched to see that the damage caused by Death Eaters had been patched up, albeit hastily, by members of the wizarding public. Scraps of parchment with messages for Fred and George had been magically stuck to the windows, thanking them for continuing to sell their products "in these dark times – particularly dark thanks to the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder! Cheers boys." Harry smiled, and added his own note to those already covering the windows.
Now we don't have to worry about U-No-Poo or You-Know-Who. If I ever need employment, I'm coming to you. HP
He carried on through the street, encouraged by seeing some of the shops obviously heading towards being re-opened, and much of the rubble left from the Death Eaters' attack cleared away. Harry wandered idly through Diagon Alley, passing the occasional witch or wizard who courteously nodded and then, once he'd gone past, suddenly realised who he was. He was just walking past where Ollivander's, thankfully, still stood, when he spotted someone curled in a corner, the unmistakeable blonde hair Harry's only clue as to their identity.
"Malfoy?" His head snapped up.
"Oh, Potter. It's you." Harry frowned. Malfoy's cheeks were sunken, his eyes tired looking, and his usually immaculate black suit worn and dusty.
"You look terrible. Are – are you living on the street?" He nodded slowly.
"I don't exactly have a home to return to now, do I?" Harry's eyes widened.
"Your house wasn't destroyed, was it?" Malfoy looked away.
"I don't really want to talk about it, Potter. There's nothing you can do, so don't bother trying to play the valiant hero, saving the day yet again. It's done." His voice was tired. Harry frowned.
"You're coming with me – we're going to get a coffee. I won't take no for an answer. How long has it been since you ate something?" Hesitantly, Malfoy stood up.
"One coffee, and you can't press me for information about what's going on. Deal?" He held his hand out, and they both were struck by the symmetry of this gesture – just seven years ago, he'd done the very same when trying to convince Harry to befriend him over Ron. Harry accepted his outstretched hand.
"Deal," he agreed, shaking Malfoy's hand, and it was more than just an agreement to let Harry buy him a coffee without asking questions, it was a truce of their seven year rivalry. Malfoy followed Harry out of Diagon Alley through the almost deserted Leaky Cauldron, emerging into the hustle and bustle of Charing Cross Road. All around were signs of a massive clean-up operation. The Prime Minister, presumably under the orders of Kingsley Shacklebolt, the acting Minister for Magic, had blamed the destruction on terrorism, an alibi that had initially been readily accepted by the Muggle public but was starting to come into question.
"There's a coffee shop over there," Harry said, pointing to a small café, tucked away from the main street.
"I haven't got any money," Malfoy mumbled. Harry waved his hand dismissively.
"It's on me, don't worry about it."
"This is the first time that money's been an issue," Malfoy said, with the air of someone who's only just realised something truly earth-shattering. "And not because it's Muggle money – I don't have any money. At all." Harry hesitantly patted his shoulder.
"Ways and means, Malfoy. Come on, you need a coffee."
"What I need is a Firewhiskey," he muttered to Harry's amusement, and followed Harry along the street to The Gateway Café.
The two took a seat in the back corner of the café, sitting opposite each other in enormous squashy chairs. A waitress came to take their order, eyes softening as Harry ordered for the two of them.
"So," Harry said. "You've nowhere to live then? What happened to that enormous house I remember so well?" The blonde frowned.
"You're breaking the terms of our agreement, Potter. We said this was just coffee, not an opportunity for you to be nosy." Harry held up his hands in mock surrender.
"Okay, okay, a deal's a deal." The waitress reappeared with their coffees and sat them down on their table, surreptitiously pushing a napkin with her number written on it towards Harry as she placed the milk and sugar on the table between the two. After she left, Harry picked it up and tore it in half.
Malfoy raised his eyebrow at this action then nodded knowingly. "Ahh, I'd forgotten. You're with the Weasley girl aren't you, Ginny?" Harry's attention became very fixed on pouring in a sachet of sugar and stirring it into his coffee particularly vigorously. "Oh," he said. "I see. Sorry."
"It was mutual," Harry said, shortly. "You know, her family are dealing with Fred's death, we're all trying to decide what's best for Lupin and Tonks's son… it's just a bad time at the moment."
Malfoy nodded. "If you speak to Ron at all, pass on my condolences." Harry's head shot up, his eyebrows raised. "What?"
"Nothing," Harry replied, shaking his head and returning to stirring his coffee. "I'm just wondering what happened to the old Malfoy, you know, the snarky one, the one who'd say something about how the Weasleys wouldn't miss one of their brood." Malfoy scoffed.
"In case you've not noticed, Potter, I'm not quite the same person as I was when we were in school. It wasn't just you who had to go through something hard these past few years, you know. And besides, after going through what we did, these little school rivalries become –"
"Childish, petty, immature?" Harry supplied, helpfully.
"Tasteless." Harry laughed.
"They always were tasteless, Draco." The two of them sat in silence, sipping their coffee. Malfoy didn't seem to register the change in how Harry addressed him. "But I will. Tell Ron, I mean. Thank you." Draco nodded curtly.
"You're lucky, you know." Harry looked inquisitively. "I mean, you still have your friends around you. I'd be lucky to find anyone who'll give me a chance now, after what happened back there."
"I've given you a chance, haven't I?" Draco couldn't quite bring himself to look Harry in the eye, and took to stirring more milk into his coffee.
"Our house is pretty much abandoned." Harry set his cup of coffee down on the saucer. "My parents are essentially on the run, either hoping someone who's not going to get sent to Azkaban will look after them and keep them hidden, forgetting that they ended up on your side, or trying to curry favour from those they're hoping remember they ended up on your side by the end. Cowards." Harry frowned.
"What do you mean?" Draco took a long sip of coffee.
"They only changed sides because they were trying to save themselves. It wasn't because they'd suddenly realised that the side they'd been fighting for was the wrong one – it was because it was becoming quickly apparent that it was the losing side and that if they continued on that side they'd be going straight to Azkaban. They could've switched when they could see I was struggling between who to side with. If you could forgive me for everything I did and rescue me from that room…" He trailed off.
"But Draco," Harry said, gently, "You could've stayed on our side instead of going over to join Voldemort." Draco sighed.
"With hindsight, I wish I had. At least that way I wouldn't be on the run." A long silence hung between the two, punctuated by the sound of the milk steamer.
"Come and live with me." Draco's head snapped up.
"What?"
"I'm serious," Harry said, meeting Draco's eyes. "I have a huge house just outside of London, and it's just me rattling around in there, and I hate it, I've only been alone in there for an hour and already I hate it. If you wanted, you could have your own floor for all I care, we'd only have to see each other if we made a real effort to." Draco looked uncertain. "Come on, Draco. You were looking for a chance from someone and you need a place to live with walls and a roof, and I'm offering you both."
"I don't know… I mean, after everything that happened? The way we treated each other in school?" Harry waved his hand.
"Water under the bridge. As you said, those childhood feuds seem ridiculous considering what we've lived through – particularly when others haven't." They sat in silence, slowly draining their coffee, running through the list of their schoolmates who hadn't survived. "So, do you want to? Live with me, I mean. Just until you get yourself sorted, build up a new reputation. Nothing says a fresh start like a Malfoy co-habiting with The Boy Who Lived," Harry joked. Draco still looked unsure. "If you want to be re-integrated into society and make a name for yourself that isn't tied to your parents, you'll need a permanent place to stay first." Finally, Draco nodded.
"Yes. Okay, yes, I'll live with you. If you're sure." Harry nodded, a smile slowly spreading across his face. "Thanks, Harry. Truly. And not just for this –" Harry stopped him.
"If it was reversed, you'd have done the same for me." Draco laughed, a little ruefully.
"I'm not sure I would have, if I'm honest."
"I know," Harry said, quietly. "I just have to believe that you would have."