Chapter 02:

The Allusion

Draco hurriedly apparated to 12 Grimmauld Place as soon as the airplane landed. His temples throbbed violently – whether it was jetlag, or uncertainty, he doesn't know.

A knock. No answer. Another knock. Still, no answer. Draco sighed. He attempted to knock again but before he can, the door opened. A house-elf stood before him, and respectfully bowed his head. Kreacher, the Black family's house-elf recognized him.

"Master Draco! Kreacher is happy to see you! Let me take your luggage and help yourself in."

"Yes. Of course. Kreacher is your master here?" Draco inquired.

Which master are you looking for, Master Draco?" Kreacher asked.

"I'm looking for Harry, of course. Wait, is there another master? Who is it?"

"He's not here at the moment, Master Draco, sir. But Master… Master Birch is here. I shall call him at once and inform you're here."

Master Birch. Who on earth is Master Birch? Why does he live with Harry? And why would Kreacher, Harry's house-elf refer to him as Master. Unless…

"Kreacher…" Draco blurted out. He was meaning to ask more questions but before he could even ask Kreacher already took off. Draco felt helpless then. It was all wrong – the idea that he could waltz in back into Harry's life is but an allusion. But he's here for one thing alone, and that is to make amends.

Careful now, he told himself. He is happy now; there is no need to rattle his current state.

"I didn't know we had a guest! I am Rastaban Birch, nice to meet you." The man greeted as he was approaching Draco, offering a warm handshake. Rastaban Birch is a tall man, lean and well-groomed. His dark, luscious hair carefully cascades down to his shoulder. His nose sharp and skin porcelain.

"May I know who you are? I didn't expect anyone to pass through the wards Harry put in. But it seems like the house recognizes you. Are you his friend?"

"No name. I'm just an old friend. I have to go. And there is no need to tell him I passed by. "

Draco started to walk away. He can hear Rastaban calling for him yet he did not heed. All he wanted was go as far away as possible, to find a good place to hide. For the first time in his life Draco wept. His tears ran down as swift as monsoon rain. It was a silent crying. He let his tears fall as he kept on walking away. He knew this could happen but he never expected it. Somehow, at the back of his mind, he was assured that Harry would lovingly wait for him.

He told himself: their acquaintance had been based on error from the start. In spite of their love, Draco managed to make Harry's life a hell. He couldn't be tamed. He is a bachelor, despite being with Harry, he managed to play around.

Harry, of course, knew all of his infidelities but held on to him. Because they loved each other. The fact that they loved each other was merely a proof that the fault lay not in themselves, but rather in their incompatibility. Draco is a free soul, a moving organ that is not meant for domestication, whilst Harry entertained the idea of constancy and a quiet home life.

He thought he was strong and Harry was weak. Harry was weak because he let Draco fool around with different men, because he waited for his love every night despite the knowledge of his adulterous rendezvous. And he, Draco, is strong. He can do anything he wanted because he was assured of the fact that Harry would never leave him.

The tables has turned, it seems like it. The weak has left the strong. The weak overcame the strong. The weak were strong enough to finally move on and the strong now realizes how weak he was for leaving.

It was weakness that made him abandon Harry. He convinced himself that going back to win Harry's affection again is also a weakness. The lyrical illusion of happily ever after instantly faded away. There was nothing to do. Not anymore. Harry is with Rastaban Birch. He has moved on. He was defeated.

"Harry there was a man looking for you this afternoon."

"Who was he?" Harry asked innocently.

"He didn't tell his name. He just ran away when I told him you're not here. He seems to know you. And Kreacher knows him too, I assume. He didn't seem to have any trouble breaching your wards." Rastaban explained how this man looked like as he was sitting beside his partner.

"Blond, pale, and handsome you say?" Harry probed. There were only few blonds he knew – Xenophilius Lovegood, a couple of classmates he had from Hogwarts, some fellow Aurors and Ministy colleagues, and that's it. As far as he knew, Harry had no blond friends close enough with him to breach his wards.

"You know, love, maybe it was an old man and you thought white hair was blond." Harry joked as he put his head on Rastaban's shoulder.

"Indeed. I might be going blind. But that blond man left his luggage here as well. He was in a hurry to go away, peculiar really, and left."

"He left his luggage here? Why did you keep it? For all we know it may be cursed or something! Kreacher, please come here!"

"Oh please. It was hardly even cursed. I checked it myself, and so did Kreacher. Besides, if it were from anyone you didn't know he wouldn't be able to step in your lawn. Relax ."

Kreacher appeared before the couple and gestured respect towards his Masters.

"What would Master Harry want from me?" Kreacher asked.

"Do you know him? That man who came here?"

"Of course. Kreacher knows him. He is the son of Lady Narcissa. Draco Malfoy, sir, that's his name."

Draco Malfoy? He knew of Narcissa and her husband Lucius. But neither of them are welcome at his home. He may owe them a lot for their last-minute deflection against Voldemort but they were never really congenial. And he didn't know they had a son. Draco Malfoy. He lingered on the name, trying to think if he has met him. When he tried to linger deeper, his head hurt.

"OhHarry what's happening? Does your scar hurt? Is he… is he back?"

"No, silly. It just… it just started hurting." Harry explained and went back to talking to Kreacher.

"This Draco, do I know him?"

Kreacher stared at him for a moment and started to bang his head to the nearest wall. "Bad Kreacher…. breaking my master's order… bad Kreacher… should not mention… bad Kreacher…"

"Harry stop him! Why is he acting like that all of a sudden?" Rabastan yelped.

"Kreacher, stop." Harry said firmly. "You didn't disobey me. Now, tell me what the deal is about this Draco."

"Master said never to talk about him… Kreacher took a vow not to speak of him with you in any circumstances. Kreacher cannot disobey or else Master would free him…" Kreacher said, still banging his head on the wall.

"Stop that, Kreacher! Go to the kitchen then and prepare our supper." Harry commanded.

"Before I forget, the man dropped this brochure. It's from a hotel so I'm guessing he might be staying there. You know Harry, it seems like he wants to talk about something very important. You should go to him tomorrow."

"Nah." Harry responded.

"Why not? He might have important business to discuss with you. He is, after all, very rich looking. And aren't you curious to know who he really is? I mean, after how Kreacher reacted. It seems logical."

"If he had, he would have stayed. But he didn't."

"I insist you go tomorrow."

"Fine. I'll go that hotel after work. Hmmm. Come to think of it, Hermione and Ron might know who this man is. You go ahead in the dining hall, I'll just floo them a letter."