Harry and Draco walked out of the pub and into the frigid night air. Harry pulled his collar up a bit more, the cold contrasting with the heat inside him, making him shiver. He turned to look again at Draco, this already becoming a sort of habit for him. His eyes only willing to be without Draco in their sights for a short period.
They resumed the stance from the previous night. Harrys' brain failing to offer up anything for him to say. Dracos' mouth was pressed into a hard line, the only evidence that he was having the same internal struggle as Harry.
Identical to the night before, Draco suddenly nodded and swept off in the direction of home. Harry stuttered momentarily and then his legs started working to carry him after Draco. He rounded the corner but Draco was gone, having Apparated seconds before.
Cursing himself for his lack of reaction and Draco for his haste, Harry had no choice but to go home. It was later than normal, given the barmaid had let the pub stay open a bit longer than was strictly allowed. Harry arrived home and went to the kitchen in search of whiskey and answers; only one of which he was certain to get.
Draco also found himself at home with no answers. He had Apparated in a bit of a panic. Not wanting to know what was going to happen next mixed with a healthy fear of the unknown causing him to flee the scene. He found himself standing in the cavernous Entrance Hall to Malfoy Manor, not knowing what to do and not recognising the feeling coursing through his body.
He wandered to his Study, figuring there was more Whiskey there and that was a good enough reason at the moment. Sitting in front of the roaring fire with a very large Whiskey in hand, Draco tried to assess his feelings after spending the entire evening in near silence on a bar stool beside Harry Potter.
When he had walked into the Muggle pub, he was looking for solitude away from the glaring eyes of Witches and Wizards, and he was more than a little shocked to find Harry bloody Potter propped up beside the bar, clearly several sheets to the wind with a fresh whiskey in front of him. As he practically fled to the darkened alcove, his mind was racing and turbulent thoughts swarmed his head.
After the War, Draco was lost. Voldemort was defeated in the war and with it brought down all of the Death Eaters, his Father with him, and his Mother by association. The Malfoys had retreated to the Manor after the Final Battle, not entirely knowing what to do. They knew that the authorities would be coming for them soon enough once the dust settled somewhat. As the three of them made their way into the front parlour, the weak sunlight brought with it the harsh reality of being on the losing side. Lucius excused himself and Narcissa and with nothing more to do, Draco went to bed.
He woke the next morning to an eerie silence, not altogether uncommon for a Manor this size but after the last few months 'activities' the silence was welcome. Draco rose and made his way to the parlour to see if there was breakfast, thinking that it was likely all the Malfoy House Elves had abandoned them. He was right, there was no breakfast and no House Elves. At a loose end, Draco steeled himself to go speak with his Father in his Study. Not a conversation he particularly wanted but he needed to know what the plan was, knowing he couldn't hide in the Manor indefinitely.
He found the study empty which caused a modicum of concern; Draco couldn't remember the last time his Father stayed in bed past 10am. Draco walked purposefully up to his parents quarters. Lucius and Narcissa had separate bedrooms for sleeping and another room that was for something else that Draco didn't like to think too much about. He tried Narcissas' room first, thinking it was the easier of the two. He knocked but there was no answer. Turning the handle, he slowly let himself in, apprehensive and tense.
The room was large and full of light from huge bay windows. The hardwood floor covered by an expansive rug to take the chill out of the room. The rug led to an ornate four poster bed with organza drapes. Dracos' eyes, almost against his will, found the bed and its occupants.
Narcissa and Lucius were lying hand in hand, fully clothed and dead.
The shock of the sight of his parents stilled Draco and he barely dared to breath lest he disturb them. Not knowing what to do and not wanting to investigate any further, Draco slowly and carefully backed out of the room and made his way back to his own living quarters.
Years of training at the hands of Lucius Malfoy meant that outwardly, nothing showed. His eyes remaining impassive, his hands were steady and his breathing was not laboured. He made it to his own room, closed the door behind him shutting the world out and his composure crumbled.
He fell to his knees, letting his head fall to his chest. He could feel the wave of nausea building in the pit of his stomach and retched violently into the waste basket near him. Draco curled onto the floor with unseeing eyes. He remained there until the room was laced in shadows and eventually drifted off to sleep.
Draco woke with a start upon hearing a loud chime; somebody was attempting to come through the Malfoy Manor Wards.
With fear lacing his every fibre, Draco raced down to the Entrance Hall to investigate, willing whoever it was to make it quick if they were here to kill him. The Wards advised him that there was a Ministry Official at the Front Gate. Resigned, Draco lifted the Wards to allow them enter the grounds and watched from the door while they made their way up the long drive.
'Good Evening, Mr Malfoy. My name is Ornace Fitzgerald and I am from the Ministry of Magic. Is now a good time?"
For what? Draco thought but figuring it would be better to not act like a petulant child at the outset, moved out of the way and gestured for Ornace Fitzgerald to enter the Entrance Hall.
With a tilt of his head, Mr. Fitzgerald stepped in and tried his best not to look around at the cavernous hall in wonder.
Draco gestured for Mr. Fitzgerald to follow him and walked swiftly to the Parlour. The room illuminated as they passed the threshold and Draco grimaced at the bright lights. He took a seat and waved a hand to invite his uninvited guest to do the same.
"My apologies, Mr. Fitzgerald, I can't offer any refreshments as it seems we have found our estate without an House Elves."
"No need to worry, Mr. Malfoy. I will get straight to it and allow you to go back to your evening in peace."
Draco had no idea what business this could be nor, he realised, did he care. Since finding his parents that morning, his mind had been void of any coherent thought and he was finding it very difficult to feign any polite interest in this matter.
"Mr. Malfoy, apologies again for the intrusion, but it has come to the Ministrys' attention that there are certain "matters' which need to be addressed now that the er, the recent events have come to a conclusion"
It took Draco all of his famous composure not to roll his eyes at the stuttering man in front of him.
"I see. Please do elaborate on these matters, Mr. Fitzgerald as I find I am at a loss as to what you mean."
"Indeed, Mr. Malfoy. It has come to our attention that the Malfoy Estate, including Malfoy Manor and all other Malfoy owned properties and assets, have been transferred to your name from that of your father. Usually, this transfer of ownership is only the result of a death and not while the father, in this case, is alive. To this effect, I wondered if Mr. Malfoy Senior is in residence so we may ask him the nature of this transfer?"
Ah. It made sense now. Given that Draco had found the bodies and not thought to notify anyone of this, the Malfoy Estate would have seemingly transferred to Draco for no reason. Inwardly groaning at the entire situation, Draco adopted a sneer to cover the shake in his voice.
"Well Mr. Fitzgerald, it seems my Mother and Father both passed this morning, having found them on my Mothers bed, together in death."
Draco almost took perverse pleasure in watching the colour drain from Mr. Fitzgeralds' face. He watched the mans' pupils dilate, his hands start to shake and could almost see his brain whirring.
"Oh right, they are.. ah, I see. Right"
"Indeed, Mr. Fitzgerald. I will be making the necessary arrangements over the coming days and was intending on notifying the Ministry. It seems that I do not have to complete that particular item anymore."
Evidently not knowing what to do, Mr. Fitzgerald stood up, bid Draco adieu, mumbling he was sorry for the circumstances and practically sprinted out the door. Draco was happy to see the back of him.
Draco thought back to this day, sitting in front of the fire and remarked that not much had changed since. He had made the necessary arrangements for his parents funeral, paid for a discreet notice in the paper so as to avoid too much attention and held a very small private ceremony in the grounds of Malfoy Manor. The only people in attendance at the ceremony were Draco and the Officiant.
Draco hadn't cried, hadn't made a speech; he simply endured the protocols, nodded once they were done and retired to his rooms. He had, as Mr. Fitzgerald outlined, inherited the entire Malfoy Estate, not that he knew what to do with them. The first thing he did do was install another House Elf, finding that being an orphan was one thing, but being a hungry orphan was another thing altogether. Seekey arrived soon after and Draco's standard of living improved greatly.
He very rarely ventured from the Manor, choosing instead to live a life of peace and solitude. The few times he had braved the Wizarding public he had been greeted with hushed voices, whispers behind his back and hard glares. He actively avoided any interaction.
That was until a last night. Draco had been growing more and more restless being cooped up in the Manor and craved something else. In a sudden burst of recklessness and energy, Draco Apparated to a deserted North London street, his eyes focusing on the only light which was streaming from a run-down pub across the road. The place was definitely Muggle and figuring this was the best place to stay anonymous, Draco hurried in from the cold, only the be greeted with the back of Harry Potters' head.
Draco drained his glass and tried to figure out what caused him to re-visit the same pub for the second night, knowing it was likely that Potter would be there. Realising he didn't actually want to know the answer to that, Draco put the tumbler down firmly and took himself to bed.
Once in bed, his thoughts immediately turned to Potter. To Harry. He pressed his hands to his eyes, trying to turn off the images his brain seemed intent on providing to him. This proved futile and within seconds his body had responded. Moving around in the silk sheets, Draco tried to shake off the feeling and ignore his own desire. The feeling was uncomfortable and his hips were moving against his will. Finally giving in, Draco wrapped a hand around himself with a grimace.
"Bloody Harry Potter." Draco gasped as he finished.
A/N: Thanks to all of you who have read the first few chapters. My aim is to post a chapter a day until the story completes.
I promise our two favourite men will say more than two words to each other soon – keep with them!
And thanks for the reviews a messages so far – they are keeping me going! I have also been writing this while in work so.. you know.. don't tell my boss!