Part Four
By the time Harry finished his tour, he felt wrung-out. Another house-elf had popped up to shadow Harry shortly after he had sent Malfoy away, likely to prevent him doing further harm to the Manor. It sickened him to know that Malfoy had lived in the house for some months after his parents' murder, living with the reminder of the violence that had turned his life upside down. Harry wondered for a moment why Malfoy hadn't hired someone to repair the mansion, until he realized it would be hard for him to find someone he could trust.
The house-elf led Harry to the kitchen, which was thankfully intact. Most of the damage seemed to have been confined to the east wing. Someone—the house-elves, probably—had managed to put out the fire before it destroyed the entire house. Harry knew now why Malfoy hadn't moved into the master bedchamber. It was gone.
Malfoy was seated at the rectangular kitchen table, looking composed. His hands were wrapped around a white mug, although he didn't seem to be drinking from it. Harry felt chagrined as he held out a beckoning hand. "Ready to go?" he asked quietly.
Malfoy set the mug down and got to his feet, looking as fragile as he had the day of Voldemort's defeat, huddled in Hogwarts' Great Hall with his family. Harry hadn't felt much pity that day, but he certainly did now.
They left the house and traversed the drive in silence, walking near enough that their elbows brushed now and again. Harry could think of nothing to say. The house-elf, once he had determined that Harry was trying to help, had regaled him with the tale of the attack. According to the house-elf, a group of former Death Eaters, led by Travers, had come to "visit" Lucius. They had been amicable enough, to start, until an argument had developed. According the elf, Travers had demanded that Lucius finance some endeavour or another, which Draco's father had refused.
At that point, the argument had turned into a battle with hexes flying, ending with two of the Death Eaters badly wounded, Lucius and Narcissa dead, and the Manor in flames. The Death Eaters had fled.
Harry planned to owl Ron as soon as he returned home. He needed to see that file. The Ministry should have some sort of leads by now, especially since the Malfoy house-elves had identified the culprits. As far as Harry knew, no one had even been brought in for questioning. For certain, Travers had not been found.
The gates opened when Malfoy approached and they stepped out onto the gravelled lane. Harry reached out and took Malfoy's arm and then stepped closer to lean against him slightly. He wanted to offer some sort of comfort, but he had no idea how. Malfoy did not pull away and Harry took them back to Grimmauld Place.
Back in Harry's living room, Malfoy stepped away and then held out his hand expectantly. Harry gave him the knapsack and watched wordlessly as Malfoy headed for the stairs and disappeared. Harry sighed and turned to the fireplace to let Hermione know it was okay to bring Teddy home.
Harry went up to the attic and Accioed several copies of the Daily Prophet from the untidy stacks in which they sat. He wasn't sure why he never threw them out—probably nothing more than the memory of the way Hermione always seemed to need the printed word for research, and the vague assumption that they would be necessary one day. It seemed he had been right.
He took several downstairs, glad that she had taught him the spell that made pertinent issues glow when keywords were requested. Not many of them mentioned the word "Malfoy". He took the papers into his room and spread them out on his large desk. Before Teddy's arrival, Harry had primarily used the desk in the study, but Teddy seemed to prefer that one, so it was now covered with an assortment of drawing paper, colours, fingerpaints, and bright stickers. Harry had relocated his personal files to his room.
The newspaper accounts of the attack on the Malfoys were sketchy, at best. Most of the articles mentioned the murders almost in passing, only to focus on the lurid past and speculative Death Eater activity of Malfoy's parents. It was repulsive, and reminded Harry of why he seldom read the paper. Their reporting methods had not changed much from the time of Rita Skeeter's slurs against him. He could only hope the Ministry files were less biased and filled with more fact than sensationalism.
He heard Teddy arrive home when the boy's shout rang though the house. Harry smiled and set the papers aside before heading downstairs, noting in passing that the door to Malfoy's room was still shut.
Hermione stayed for a cup of tea and suffered through Teddy's retelling of their afternoon adventures, which mainly consisted of having ice cream and then spending several hours at the bookstore. Teddy adored books, which was something he had more in common with Hermione than Harry.
"You had a brilliant day, then," Harry said with a laugh.
Teddy nodded. "Where is Draco? I brought him a present!" He snatched up a brown paper parcel from the table and waved it for Harry to see.
Harry looked at Hermione in surprise. She gave him a pained smile. "It's only a trifle. Teddy was very insistent."
"It's a journal," Teddy said in a stage whisper. "So he can write in it."
"I think Draco is resting right now. You can give it to him when he comes down for dinner, yeah? Speaking of dinner, I had best get that started before you fall asleep at the table, since you missed having a nap today, young man."
"I don't need a nap," Teddy replied in a scoffing tone.
Hermione nodded. "He was yawning at the bookstore, which is why I brought him home. Thank you for a lovely time, Teddy. I will see you later."
Teddy launched himself at her for a final hug and a noisy kiss before she departed. Harry thanked her, ignored her pointed look that clearly asked for more information regarding Malfoy, and waved as she Apparated away.
Teddy chattered about the books he had seen while Harry prepared a quick meal of spaghetti noodles with bacon and pine nuts, one of Teddy's favourites that Harry thought Malfoy might also like.
He filled a plate for Teddy and then walked upstairs to knock on Malfoy's door. "Mal—Draco? Dinner is ready." Harry wasn't sure if Malfoy was sleeping or not, but after a moment he heard a rustle of sound. He debated leaving, but then a noise at his feet drew his attention. He saw a scrap of paper beneath the door and stooped to pick it up.
I am not hungry.
Harry smiled at the implied haughty tone. "All right, then. I'll keep it warm for you, in case you change your mind."
Teddy was not as understanding. "Is Draco mad at me?" he asked in a worried tone. His eyes were serious beneath dark purple hair.
"No, of course not. We went to visit his house today and it made him sad."
"Why?"
Harry balked at replying, but he hated to be less than honest with Teddy, no matter the circumstances. "Because his parents are dead."
Teddy's eyes went wide and then he nodded solemnly. "My parents are dead, too. Sometimes it makes me sad."
Harry smiled at the boy. At times he wondered how his heart could contain such love without breaking, but it was a good pain. "Me, too, Teddy. Me, too."
When they finished eating, Harry picked up the boy and carried him upstairs. Teddy's small head nestled against his shoulder and his grip on Harry's arms was weak. He thought it likely the boy would fall asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.
As soon as they neared Teddy's room, Malfoy's door opened and he stepped into the hallway. His eyes met Harry's for a long moment and then Malfoy's gaze went to Teddy and softened measurably.
"Draco!" Teddy said sleepily, turning his head and holding out one small hand.
Malfoy took a step forward and then paused. He held up a scrap of cloth and it took Harry a moment to recognize it as one of Malfoy's shrunken shirts. Harry felt a pang of guilt when he remembered that Malfoy could not resize them.
"If you put Teddy to bed, I can fix those for you," Harry offered.
Malfoy looked grateful for only a moment before he nodded and reached out his arms to take Teddy, who practically threw himself at the blond. Harry felt a stab of jealousy when he saw them together, but the soft look in Malfoy's eyes quelled it. Harry went into Malfoy's room and set about restoring his clothing, trying not to think about how each item would look on the man.
He was only partly successful in that.
Harry should have been tired, but the thoughts mulling through his head would not allow him to sleep. At times, he wished he enjoyed reading, but the act always reminded him of enforced studying at Hogwarts. In lieu of other pastimes, he had acquired a Muggle handheld gaming device that miraculously worked just fine, despite the disruptive qualities of magic.
Hermione said it was because the electrical power needed to run the device was minute, even though the charge never seemed to last long. Harry would use it until the battery ran out, and then send it with Hermione to recharge at her parents' house.
His current obsession was a game that involved leading a pack of hapless digital creatures to safety though paths of fire, smashers, or death-inducing cliffs. He felt rather remorseful whenever he had to sacrifice one in the name of saving the others, but the game was still bloody addictive.
While he was puzzling out a way to build a staircase over a flaming bed of lava with a stupidly small number of building blocks, he saw movement outside his bedroom door. Malfoy stood in the corridor, obviously on his way downstairs, staring into Harry's bedroom as though shocked to see him awake. Harry blinked at him, suddenly suspecting the hour was much later than he had thought.
"Are you all right?" Harry asked, setting the game console on the bedside table and sitting up. He could barely see in the dim light from the device—the rest of his room was dark.
Malfoy nodded curtly and Harry sensed more than saw his agitation.
"Bad dream?" he asked quietly, guessing.
Malfoy took a step, as though he meant to bolt, but he paused for a long moment and then nodded again.
Harry smiled and held out his hands to waggle them at Malfoy in a beckoning motion. "Come here, then. I've had loads of experience with nightmares." Malfoy didn't move and Harry felt suddenly foolish with his offer, but his stubbornness seemed much more tenacious at two o'clock in the morning. "Don't be scared," he goaded.
Malfoy gave him a half-hearted sneer and then took a couple of steps into the room before walking at a more normal pace to Harry's bed. Harry kept his arms upraised and Malfoy stared down at him for agonizing moments before finally climbing onto the bed and sliding into Harry's embrace. He looped one arm stiffly over Harry's abdomen and rested his head on Harry's shoulder, feeling less relaxed than a piece of timber.
Harry's right arm cradled Malfoy's shoulders and he placed the other gently on his ribcage in a platonic hug. Only their torsos were touching; Malfoy's legs were inches from Harry's, as though he wanted to keep his feet near the edge of the bed for a quick escape.
"There, now," Harry said soothingly. "I usually ask Teddy to tell me about his nightmares, but since you can't, I will share one of mine, instead. And this one will probably be new to you, since I don't think I've ever told anyone the entire story."
With that, Harry launched into the tale of how he and Dumbledore had located the fake locket that Regulus Black had left in the cave of the Inferi. Harry tried to maintain a clinical tone of voice as he spoke, pretending it was only a story, instead of a trial that had ended in Dumbledore's death and became a crucial turning point in all of their lives.
Malfoy's arms tightened as Harry spoke, and when the story ended, Harry was surprised to find his chin resting on Malfoy's head.
"That was the night Dumbledore died," Harry finished, making no mention at all of Malfoy's part in the drama. "He was already dying, you see, although I didn't know it at the time. It's strange to look back and see the parts we all had to play. Sometimes I wonder how things would have turned out if he hadn't died. I wonder if I would have found the strength to do what I needed to do, or if I would have continued to rely on him to make everything right." Harry sighed. "It's a burden to know that so many people have high expectations of you. Yeah, I might be talking about myself, now. I know you would scoff at me if you could, but it's true. You know, I find myself not missing your biting sarcasm so much."
Harry chuckled, but there was no response. Harry wondered if Malfoy was asleep or merely faking. A huge yawn made his jaw pop and he reached over to flip the switch on the game console to the off position. As the faint light died, Harry pressed an absent kiss into Malfoy's soft hair. "Goodnight," he whispered.
Settling more comfortably into the pillows, Harry drifted off to sleep, still holding Draco Malfoy close.
.
Harry woke slowly, gradually noticing that one of his feet felt cold. The rest of him, however, seemed very warm and comfortable. After a moment of disoriented wakefulness in which his brain tried to convince him that he was late and needed to get up and dress in order to get to the Ministry, he thankfully recalled that he no longer had a routine schedule and that as long as Teddy was not up, he could sleep as long as he liked.
That thought was scattered when someone moved against him, snuggling against his side and shifting in a way that sent a tickle of soft hair brushing against his jaw—someone that was definitely not Teddy.
His memory returned with a jolt and he realized that, improbable as it was, Draco Malfoy was still in his bed. In fact, they were literally cuddling. Malfoy was wrapped around Harry, pressed up tightly against his side as though seeking warmth, which was possible, since Harry vaguely recalled dragging the coverlet awkwardly over them sometime during the night. Since one of Harry's feet was uncovered, it was likely that even more of Malfoy was exposed to the air.
Harry lifted his head, half-debating fixing the problem and curling closer around Malfoy, which was a completely insane notion. Instead, he tried to ease away from the man, moving slowly and carefully in order not to awaken him.
It earned him a petulant noise and a tightening of Malfoy's arm, holding him in place. Harry froze. After a moment, he noticed Malfoy's breathing had changed and then the pale head rose and Malfoy's grey eyes blinked at him. Harry fairly gaped at him, because he was bloody adorable with his hair completely mussed, his eyes slightly unfocussed, and his lips parted. The urge to kiss him was almost overwhelming.
To his amazement, Malfoy did not launch himself out of bed with a gasp of dismay. Instead, his eyelids fluttered partially closed and he began to lean forward, cocking his head slightly.
Merlin, Harry thought stupidly, he means to kiss me!
Malfoy's intent—whatever it was—changed when a loud thumping sounded from the doorway. Teddy called, "Uncle Harry! I'm hungry!"
Malfoy's eyes widened and his head swivelled around. Harry looked to see Teddy bouncing in the doorway.
"Draco! Did you have a nightmare or are you just having cuddles? Harry gives good cuddles, doesn't he?" As he chattered, Teddy hopped forward and then bounded onto the bed in order to crawl over the top of them both, sprawling partly on Draco and partly on Harry. "I want cuddles, too!" His small arms gripped them tightly and Harry felt Malfoy's chuckle against his chest. They remained locked in the pose for long, comfortable moments, and Harry felt something shift, as though sliding into place where it belonged. He realized he wanted this, or at least something very similar to this—a warm body to wake up to next to every morning, with affection and, should he dare ask for it, possibly even love? This, he thought, must be what it's like to have a real family.
The idea was slightly alarming when seen in context with Malfoy as the one snuggled next to him, but it wasn't nearly as disturbing as it should have been. Perhaps it was only Harry's "saving people thing" kicking in again, but Malfoy needed him and did not seem to mind Harry's company any longer, especially if the fact of his present nearness was anything to go by.
~TBC~
