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()()()
A week later, Ewen Johnson took residence in the cottage. He had asked that all of the current furniture be removed and he arrived with his own furniture, shrunken Muggle-looking items that had seen better days that he proceeded to set out around the tiny cottage. When he was done, Draco had to admit that the place held a certain cosy charm, and that perhaps less formal furniture was more fitting for a cottage such as this.
He stood on the threshold of the cottage, the door of which he had found wide open, and called inside for Ewen to announce his presence. When there was no reply, Draco hesitantly stepped inside and called for him again.
With a clatter, Ewen came flying out of the Floo and barrelling into Draco, knocking him to the floor and landing squarely on top of him. Both winded for a moment, Ewen blinked down at him, his cheeks flushing pink before collecting himself and jumping to his feet and holding his hand down for Draco.
"Um, sorry about that," he said when Draco was upright again and trying to will down the start of an erection, sure his own cheeks were flushing crimson. "I'd forgotten something, um, important that I'd left over at Ron's and Hermione's, so I just popped over there to get it; I was only gone a minute." He rammed his hands into his pockets, and Draco saw that his fist was clenched around something. He itched to ask what it was. "Did you need something?"
Ah, yes, the purpose for Draco's visit. "Yes, why don't we take a seat at the table?" He indicated the tiny two-seater table that Ewen had set in the bay window that looked down onto the lake and the open countryside beyond.
Ewen padded over and sat himself awkwardly in his chair, looking expectantly at Draco.
Draco coughed and took a deep breath. "Ewen, you and I, we got off on the wrong foot. For whatever reason that may be, I think we should start again. You're going to be living here; I think this is a reasonable request."
Draco watched the emotions chase across Ewen's face, shocked when he registered a brief flicker of fear. How could that be? Did Ewen think that Draco was humouring him, that he was just biding his time before he evicted him from his property?
"Whilst you are living on the Manor, you will have full access to the entire grounds, the stables, the Quidditch pitch, the gear and the boathouse." Ewen shifted uncomfortably. "The house will not be warded against you; however I ask that you do not enter without an invite."
"You don't have to worry about that," Ewen replied, his jaw setting, not quite meeting Draco's eyes. "I have no desire to- I don't foresee any reason why I would wish to visit the manor. Mr. Malfoy, I merely want a quiet life, to be left to my writing. You will barely know I am here."
Draco, his unwanted erection finally subsided, knew that was an untruth, because his cock seemed to be tuned to Ewen like a compass seeking North. His unwanted, guilty attraction, to this unresponsive man only seemed to be growing, not abating as he would like.
"There are a few caveats to your freedom of the Manor," Draco added. "I have warded the cottage so that you may have visitors via the Floo, who may join you inside the cottage and on the cottage's terrace, however, they will not be able to go any further without permission. I have my son's safety to consider, you understand?"
Ewen looked annoyed, his lips tightening as he nodded his agreement. Draco felt an unwelcome twinge of jealousy at the thought of who might visit Ewen; did he have a girlfriend, or boyfriend? Was there a lover hiding in the shadows?
"Granger and Weasley are exceptions; I trust them with Gabe, and if they visit, they will have the same access as you."
Ewen brightened slightly. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," he said, finally meeting Draco's eyes. "A fresh start sounds good."
Something in Ewen's expression made Draco want to reach across the table and take his hand, tell him everything would be okay. That he didn't know what 'everything' was didn't matter. Ewen had a vulnerability about him that spoke to him. Harry had had it, too.
Draco shot to his feet at that reminder. Harry. "Well, I'm glad that's settled," he said, hoping his mask was in place and that his distress didn't show. "Though, just one more thing; please, call me Draco."
()()()
Harry waited for Draco to leave before his face fell and he muttered to himself, "Call me Draco," he mocked under his breath to himself. He was staring at the still open door Draco had left through far longer than was healthy. He pulled it to and took the stairs two by two until he reached his bedroom.
He had chosen to sleep in the second bedroom, and use the one Narcissa had used as his study. It had better views and light. His bedroom was only for sleeping. It didn't need great light or epic views. No one else would be sleeping there. Harry was done with love.
He pushed his hand into his pocket and pulled out the tiny frame he had stowed there, the one he had left behind in the room he had been using at Ron's and Hermione's last night when his place was all packed up and he couldn't move into the cottage yet. Reverently he placed the frame on the dressing table and enlarged it wandlessly.
It was a photograph of himself and Gabe, the baby just hours old, his black hair sticking out in identical tufts to Harry's. Harry was smiling in the picture, and talking up to the photographer, before leaning down to kiss the baby's head. This was the only picture he'd had of his son, he used to keep it in his diary, when Draco had thrown him out, and over the long months of his banishment and then his 'death,' it had been all Harry had had to prove to himself that he wasn't crazy, that he was doing this for a reason. For Gabe.
Draco had been the photographer. Harry preferred not to think about that; but that did not mean that he didn't. Sometimes he couldn't help it; those memories were part of him.
It had been Draco who had worked out that Harry was pregnant before Harry had even the slightest inkling. Male pregnancy was beyond rare among wizards, so much so that Harry hadn't even been aware that it was possible, and why would he, when he had been raised amongst Muggles who held a hatred for all things magical and all things homosexual.
Hadn't they drawn the short straw when they had been landed with Harry?
Harry had thought he had a stomach bug. Why else would he be queasy and throwing up every morning for a week? What other reason might there be for his retching at the smell of bacon? Ron had tentatively broached the possibility of pregnancy to Harry and Harry had - understandably in Harry's opinion - totally freaked out and taken himself off somewhere for a few days - without telling anyone where he was going or why.
He'd gone to Andromeda, stayed in her spare bedroom, spent a lot of time with Teddy whilst gazing at him in wonder that there might be a baby inside of him. His own child. When he'd finally confessed his fears to Andromeda, she'd called in a Healer friend, someone discreet who could keep the Boy Who Lived's status as 'mother-to-be' to himself. The pregnancy had been confirmed and Harry had panicked; his blood pressure had risen and he'd passed out.
When he had woken, he had been in St Mungo's and Draco had been there, furious with him for putting the baby at risk. That had been the first time Harry had felt as though he were merely a vessel for the Malfoy heir; that Draco cared more about the child than he did about Harry.
That had been the first major crack in their marriage, although the pressure had been on them way before that. Draco's possessiveness had been almost stifling at times. Harry had been in love with him, so much it had hurt to be away from him, but that didn't stop him from wanting to stay in touch with his friends, the people who had been there for him since he was eleven years old and had laid down their lives for him. They were something Harry was not willing to give up, and if Draco was uncomfortable with visiting them, then Harry was fine with going alone. He would have preferred Draco to be there, he wanted the man he loved to be accepted by his friends - but if that wasn't to be, then the time he spent with his friends would have to be the time they spent apart.
Spending time apart was healthy anyway. It wasn't good for a person to be in the company of one other person day in day out, no matter how much they loved that person and how they ached when they were apart from them. Harry needed his friends.
Most of those friends thought he was dead now. Neville, Ginny, George- They were all in ignorance of Harry still being alive. Harry didn't like it, but their knowing would be too risky. If Draco were to find out, then that would be it for Harry. It would be Game Over.
()()()
Draco put Gabe to bed that evening, kissing his son gently on the forehead as his eyes closed before Draco had even covered him with the quilt. He sat on the edge of Gabe's bed and watched the little boy as he slept, admiring the way his lashes fanned his cheeks and how his soft baby features were changing into those of a little man. Draco had never known there could be a love like this, and only now did he understand why his mother had acted the way she had during the war: to protect him.
Unfortunately, his father had been too far in the thrall of Voldemort to be much of a father.
Gabe was so like Harry. It physically hurt to look at him sometimes and Draco was ashamed to admit that when he had first heard that Harry had died, he hadn't been able to truly look at Gabe for a long time - not really look at him, because if he had, he knew he would have broken down. It had taken Draco weeks before he'd been able to cry; he hadn't wanted to allow himself to move past the numb feeling that had become his entire existence in those early days.
Tears streamed down his face now, dripping off his chin and onto his shirt. He stuffed his hand in his mouth to stifle the sob that threatened to make itself heard. Oh Merlin, Harry. How had Draco so spectacularly fucked up the only relationship in his life that came from someone liking him for him, not because they were his parent, or because he was a Malfoy, but because he was Draco?
Draco had no doubt now that Harry had liked him as a good friend and enjoyed his company; at least at first, before Draco had driven him away with his own fear and insecurities. How ironic was it that his fear that Harry might leave him was in fact the driving force behind his behaviour and the reason in the end that he had lost Harry? He had tipped the first domino and sat back and watched the path of destruction as it wound its way through their lives until it was too late.
Why had he never told Harry he loved him, for Merlin's sake? Why hadn't he been able to say those three words? He'd thought Harry knew, Draco showed him how much with everything he did, every breath he had taken; but in the end, it hadn't been enough.
How could Draco now have this attraction to Ewen Johnson? It was a betrayal of Harry in the worst way. Yet, Draco couldn't stop the way his heart skipped a beat when the other man was present, or how his body had reacted to his touch earlier today. It was happening again. Draco had thought no one else could ever touch him the way Harry could, that no one could make him burn again. Apparently there was someone else that could invoke this response.
Why this man? Why now? Draco had both men and women throwing themselves at him regularly, and he had never once been tempted - not before Harry and certainly not after him. What was it about Ewen Johnson that made his blood sing and his pulse race?
Draco wanted him. He wasn't, however, going to allow himself to have him. Even if Ewen responded to Draco's want for him, Draco knew he would never survive if he fell in love again and lost. Not that anyone would ever come close to Harry; Harry was a once in a lifetime love. Still, many people married again - found love again - and Draco had to wonder if he could find it with Ewen Johnson if he allowed himself.
He was not going to allow himself.
He pressed a tearful kiss to Gabe's cheek and slipped from the room, leaning back against the door with a heavy sigh. He needed a strong drink and some easy distraction. With that in mind, he headed for his study and fire called Blaise. Blaise was always up for a few drinks. Draco intended to get absolutely hammered; he wanted to forget his own name tonight.
()()()
Harry spent his first evening in the cottage nursing a glass of Firewhisky and staring unseeingly into the fire. He raised a lonely toast to Narcissa and said unto the air, "To a lovely lady and a great friend - thank you for doing this for me - I only hope that your plan works." It would be just Harry's luck that Draco would feel the need to get away from the Manor and all the memories it held for him - his childhood, Voldemort, his failed marriage, his mother's illness - which would leave Harry back in the same position as before; estranged from his son and living a life without meaning.
He knew he was going to have to be as pleasant to Draco as he could stand without getting too friendly. Friendly was too close. Just because Draco's nearness still had the ability to make his palms ache and made him want to run his hands through his silken hair before raining feather kisses over his-
No. This train of thought was not happening. Ever. Draco was out of bounds; Harry hated the man anyway, even if he did want Draco to fuck him senseless the way he used to. That was just hormones and chemicals, it didn't mean anything.
No one could ever have accused Harry and Draco of having a boring sex life. At least until Harry got pregnant that was; then it all but stopped because Draco had been afraid it would hurt the baby. He had even taken to sleeping in another bed much of the time and only occasionally coming to Harry for some kind of release.
Harry's pregnant body had repulsed Draco, and once the baby had been born, Draco hadn't touched him once. He supposed his duty had been done, and that Draco could no longer see him as someone sexual but as the man who had borne his son.
Draco hadn't wanted to talk about it when Harry brought up the subject of their marriage. Harry had been left feeling lonely and paranoid. Even having Gabe hadn't taken the pain away; because sometimes he had found it difficult to get access to him - Draco had an army of house-elves catering for his every need, and when Harry had protested, Draco had said that Harry should be grateful for the amount of help he received with the baby.
Harry had been at the end of his tether and planning to force Draco to have the conversation if it was the last thing he did. He lovedDraco, and if Draco no longer wanted him then Harry couldn't stay and watch those grey eyes shine with boredom or hatred for Harry – that was backwards, like going back to their early years of animosity. He wanted to sit down with Draco and really talk it out; maybe get to the bottom of the problem and go back to where they had been before.
Draco had avoided Harry's invite to join him for lunch that day, so - hurt and confused - Harry had gone to Ron and Hermione's for some advice. Instead of his two best friends, he had found Charlie Weasley and he had poured out his fears to the older man who had pulled him into a comforting hug just as Draco had stepped out of the Floo and immediately jumped to the wrong conclusion.
That had been the last time Harry had seen Draco as his real self; and until Narcissa found him and let him back into the manor, Harry had not seen his son in that time either.
It seemed Draco had wanted a wrong conclusion to jump to so that he would have an excuse to banish Harry from his life.
Harry hated Draco now. If Harry really were dead, then it would be Draco who had his blood on his hands.
()()()
Harry's first few days in the cottage were spent getting the place straight and feeling like home. He planned on living there for a long time, at least until Gabe left home, and it was important that it felt comfortable – that it felt like his. He'd never really had a place of his own, leaving Hogwarts and moving straight in with Draco, then after the accident, a poky bedsit that he barely spent any time in. This place, although technically not his, would be his first home where he made the choices.
That was one thing to look forward to in the dreary existence that his life had become.
There were no sightings of Draco in that time and his only visitor was Ron who dropped in through the Floo for a quick cup of tea before heading home again. Ron was uncomfortable being with Harry on Draco's 'turf' as he called it, and Harry knew it was because he was worried that he would mess up and call him Harry instead of Ewen.
If Harry were honest, that was something he was nervous about himself, but tried not to dwell upon it, remembering some of Luna's advice - that if you think negative thoughts, you attract that which you don't want. Harry never thought he'd miss Luna Lovegood of all people.
His first free day, once unpacking and settling in was over, fell on a Thursday and Harry was pleased to see that it was a pleasant day, the sun was out, and there was barely a cloud in the sky. Perfect weather for sitting out on the patio with his Muggle laptop and getting some work done on his book. Ewen Johnson was now a newly published author of Muggle fiction. His second book was in the planning stages, and that was what Harry planned to work on now. This was his bread and butter; he had to make a success of it as his new persona couldn't really get a job as he didn't really exist. The last thing he needed was people poking around in his business. As an author, it was expected that pen names be used, it was safe.
He was a couple of hours in when he heard the footsteps coming from the path that led to the cottage. He was half expecting Draco to appear, but to his surprise, his son popped his head around the gatepost and said, "Hello!"
"Hello, Gabe," Harry greet the child tentatively, immediately aching to pick up his son and hug him. Gabe barely knew him though, and Harry didn't want to scare him. "What are you doing here?" He glanced behind him for Draco, or even Pansy and Theo but Gabe seemed to be alone.
"I wanted to play," Gabe said bouncing over to Harry and lifting his arms for Harry to pick him up, which Harry did immediately.
"That's very nice of you, Gabe," Harry replied, his heart swelling with joy that even though Gabe had no idea who he really was, he sought him out anyway. "Does your father know you are here?"
Gabe's long lashes fanned over his cheeks as he refused to meet Harry's eyes, which to Harry was a sign of guilt. "Well then, I'm going to have to take you back to the house. Your daddy will worry."
Gabe shook his head and said, "My Daddy is in Heaven." Harry's heart simultaneously went out to Gabe and stuck in his throat.
"I know, sweetheart," Harry whispered, hugging his son closer. "I meant your father - Draco - does he know you have come to visit me?"
Gabe shook his head. "Pansy said I could play outside. She's in the parlour with Eddie."
Eddie Carmichael was the head gardener at the manor, and in Harry's opinion, a complete stereotype, in that he was some sort of Adonis hunk that wouldn't be out of place in a Muggle movie playing the fit young gardener seducing bored housewives. He decided not to dwell on what might be going on in the parlour with the gardener whilst Pansy was in command of an empty house.
"Is Dr- your father at work?"
Gabe squirmed to be put down, "Yes."
Harry lowered him to the floor. "I suppose I'd better send him an owl then, tell him you're here with me and that you're safe." As much as Harry disliked Draco, he knew he couldn't keep Gabe here without letting the man know.
"Can we make sandcastles?" Gabe said excitedly, and as Harry was about to explain that they weren't at the seaside he remember that hardly mattered to a wizard.
"Of course we can," he promised and wandlessly conjured the corner of the lawn into a sandpit. "Just let me owl Draco first."
()()()
What followed were a couple of hours of pure joy for Harry. Alone with his son, getting covered in sand and water and making a mess of themselves - and laughing, so much laughing - Harry wondered how he had survived so long without laughter in his life. The innocence of a child brought a joy like none other, the company of his son kept Harry smiling even when Gabe's face turned serious as he tried to concentrate on building a castle with his bare hands and the Muggle bucket that Harry had made out of a stray plant pot he'd found behind the shed.
He couldn't take his eyes off him. His son. Harry had never known it was possible to love someone this much and this unconditionally. This was what he was doing this for, the reason he had clung to life when it had so nearly slipped away from him.
Their joyful companionship shattered in an instant as Draco burst through the gate behind Harry, his face drawn and paler than usual. When his eyes landed on Gabe he said, "Oh thank Merlin, Gabe - what are you doing here?" Draco turned accusing eyes on Harry and scooped Gabe up into his arms. The little boy didn't notice his father's anger, merely wrapped his arms around his neck and pressed his face into his hair. "What the hell do you think you're playing at, Johnson? How long has he been here?"
Harry gaped, trying to gather himself. "Maybe two hours?" he guessed, having lost track of time in his son's company. It might be more like four judging by the changes in the light. He got to his feet and crossed his arms over his chest defensively.
"Gabe, don't ever, ever run away from Pansy like that again," Draco's voice was thick with emotion. He pressed his lips to Gabe's head and glared back at Harry, his eyes furious. "My son wanders down here and you don't think that he might be missed?"
"Gabe informed me that Pansy was in the parlour with the gardener and had told him to 'go and play'," Harry spat back. "He sought me out - what was I supposed to do - take him back to the house when Pansy is obviously otherwise occupied?"
Draco's eyes showed surprised before the fury returned. "I don't think I like what you're implying! Besides, I've an army of house-elves, all of whom could take care of Gabe if Pansy were tied up," he countered, then flushed when he realised what he'd just said.
"I'm aware of how much you palm your son off on other people and on the elves, Mr. Malfoy," Harry said coldly. "He wanted to play in the sand, I thought it would be fun to indulge him. I sent you an owl-"
"Mr. Johnson, do you have any children?" Draco asked. Harry felt fear creeping into his pores and decided not to reply, because he didn't want to be caught in a lie. Omission was always the best option if he could get away with it.
Draco took his silence as his answer, "No, I didn't think you did. If you had, you would understand, perhaps, how I felt when Pansy Flooed to say Gabe was missing, and what went through my mind at that time!" Harry could barely remember a time he'd seen Draco so angry. When they were married, even at the end, Draco had never shown anger, just icy indifference. "Come on, Gabe, it's time for your tea."
Draco was headed for the gate with Gabe in his arms and disappearing from Harry's sight before Harry could gather his thoughts. He heard Gabe saying, "Bye Wen!" as he was swept away.
"Bastard," Harry muttered to the space where Draco had just been standing. He waved a hand at the sandpit and turned it back into grass and stomped back into the cottage.
()()()
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