Title: Nineteen Reasons… 7/19
Author: MK Malfoy
Characters: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Rating: M+
Words: 2,665
Summary: At King's Cross, nineteen years after Voldemort was defeated, Draco Malfoy nodded curtly at Harry Potter. Contrary to popular belief, the nod was not the result of a sense of obligatory politeness — there were nineteen reasons for that nod. Epilogue-compliant. Each chapter will be a separate story detailing a meeting between Harry and Draco.
Warnings: sexual situations, possible adult language, angst
Disclaimer: I own none of what I write about; it is all Jo's and her friends!

Reason Number Seven:

Colorful, wild flowers that danced in the mild wind; green grass in need of grooming, and the unmistakable scent of spring in the air painted a far different picture of Godric's Hollow than the bitter, snowy night of six years earlier, a fact which comforted Harry: the memories of the night Hermione and he had spent in the graveyard and outside of his former home were ones that he wanted to hold on to without fear of other memories replacing them — this had been the reason Harry had almost decided not to make a second visit to Godric's Hollow, but his need and want to return had made up his mind. Hermione had assured him that he would never forget that night, but now, seeing how vastly different the landscape appeared, Harry knew that there was little chance that the two visits would merge into one.

As Harry continued taking in his surroundings, arms wound their way around his waist, and Draco's head rested on his shoulder. Harry smiled and leaned his head down toward Draco's, thankful that they were both under a form of the Disillusionment Charm that would prevent others from seeing them, yet would allow them to see each other. There were several people out enjoying the mild weather and he didn't want anyone to interrupt Draco and him.

"It's beautiful here, Harry," said Draco, his lips tickling Harry's neck as he spoke. "Thank you for bringing me to see where your parents and you lived."

Harry nodded and continued to look around him, wondering if his parents had ever walked along this section of the village. Perhaps his father had stood in this very spot, holding his wife in his arms just as Draco was doing with him.

Taking a deep breath, Harry decided this was as good a time as any to say what he needed to say to Draco. He fervently wished he could put this off, but he couldn't. Draco deserved the truth. "The night that Voldemort tried to kill me… the only reason he failed to do so was because of my mother." Harry stopped and took a deep breath, knowing that he needed to continue, yet not wanting to — he would never do anything to purposely hurt Draco. He covered Draco's hands with his and ran his thumbs up and down the larger hands. "She protected me, Draco. Dumbledore said it was her love that saved me. I think I believe this to be the truth, but I'm not sure; it could have been a combination of her love and blood that prevented my death that night. Ever since I found out why I survived that night, I have wanted to be able to do the same for any child of mine, but then you and me… you made me re-think everything, Draco. I couldn't imagine my life without you in it every day. I was ready to change my mind — I had changed my mind — you and me, I knew that we could adopt — I would be more than happy with that. But then that night, when the Dementors tried to attack me, I knew that there would always be threats to my life. I want children, Draco, more than anything, but I can't place a child in danger by being their parent when I don't know if my love alone will protect them." Harry's voice broke when he said protect. He had planned to say more, but found that he couldn't continue; he blinked his eyes, furiously — he couldn't see much because of the tears that threatened to fall. Thankfully, there were only a few that actually fell before he regained his composure. One of Draco's hands freed itself from Harry's, and wiped the tears from beneath Harry's eyes.

"Harry," Draco said in little more than a whisper, "how is it that you can stand here and tell me the reason we can't be together forever, and it only serves to make me love you more?" Draco then kissed Harry's neck, then his chin, then turned the slightly trembling body around and kissed Harry on the lips.

As Harry returned Draco's kiss, he didn't know how he was going to get through this, but he knew one thing: he would have the support of Draco, and that would go a long way in helping. When Draco stepped back, Harry tried to grin, and thought he might have succeeded. "So you don't think I'm being selfish?"

Draco shook his head. "Not at all. There is a part of me, of course, that wants to beg you to not have children; that would solve the problem. But I know, more than anyone, how much you want a son and a daughter. I would never ask you to give that up, and I would never want you to feel that you were not protecting your children to the best of your ability."

Harry found it almost impossible to believe that Draco could take this so calmly; he wasn't so sure he would be able to do the same if the roles were reversed. Draco was not one to say what others wanted to hear, however, so if he said he was okay with this, then he was. Well, actually he hadn't said he was okay with it at all, and Harry knew that Draco had to be hurting, but he knew that if Draco truly thought he was making a mistake, that he would say something. Harry nodded as he looked around at the trees that had begun to sway with a bit more force. "I do love her. I'm not doing this only for my children. I would never hurt Ginny like that," Harry said as he looked back at Draco, whose gaze was focused on a group of villagers who were walking along the pavement.

"I know. I've seen the two of you together, and I can tell that you really do love her. She is indeed fortunate to have you in her life, Harry." Draco then turned toward Harry and took a deep breath.

Harry thought it was rather the opposite — it was he who was fortunate: he had two people in his life who loved him unconditionally. "But we still have almost a year before the wedding, Draco, and I don't want to spend it thinking about the future."

Draco and Harry next walked toward the graveyard. Harry glanced at the statue of his parents and him, but didn't say anything; he planned to do so when they left. When they found his parents' headstone, Harry knelt and laid down the wildflowers that Draco and he had picked, then his hand traced the words that had been engraved, and there was a moment of despair as he remembered how fervently he had wished to join his parents when he had last knelt in this very spot. It was difficult to know that his parents' bodies were so close, yet there was absolutely no life in them — that which had made them who they were in life was now gone, removed from their bodies in what surely had to have been the ultimate operation.

Standing, Harry turned toward Draco, who was looking at him somberly. "Let's go." Draco and he left the graveyard arm in arm, and only stopped for a few seconds to pay homage to the war memorial that turned into a statue of him and his parents. Draco didn't speak, nor did Harry, until they were standing by the gate that led to the house where his innocent, carefree life as a toddler had been taken from him.

"I want to go in, Draco." Harry knew it probably wasn't wise, but how could he not go inside and see the house? Last time, with Hermione, it had been dark, and they had encountered Bathilda Bagshot's possessed body, but this time there was nothing to stop him and Draco from entering.

Draco looked pensively toward the house, then touched the gate, tentatively, as if he weren't at all certain they should enter, then he looked at Harry. Harry wanted to reassure him, but instead, he grinned, and his eyes traveled down to where he knew the sign was about to appear, and waited for Draco to see it. Draco's expression changed when he did see it, and Harry studied the pale, pointed face as the grey eyes scanned the words on the sign. It was easy to see that the words moved Draco: His chin began to quiver, then he turned and faced Harry.

"There are people who have never met you who have left you messages of support," Draco said, his voice showing his wonderment. "My parents told me about you when I was little, and I remember being jealous, wishing it were me who everyone spoke so fondly about. Then when I saw you on the train that day, I wanted so badly to be your friend. I had no idea what it meant to be you. I didn't understand that you were so revered because you had survived when your parents hadn't. I don't think I truly understood what it must be like for you until I saw you in the Great Hall after it all happened. It was then that I realized that you weren't this bigger-than-life persona that I had built you up to be. I had tried for so long to tear you down — to bring you down to where I was — but then that night I realized that you were just the same as me and that you hadn't asked for any of this to happen to you."

There were no words that would trump silence after such a revelation. Harry said nothing as he grasped Draco's hand and squeezed it, then glanced down at the sign and messages again before he returned his gaze to Draco, and smiled. They then opened the gate and began walking toward the house.

Seconds later Harry shakily lifted his hand and grasped the doorknob. As nervous as he was, he knew he'd be able to open it, just as he knew that no one else would be able to. He then looked at Draco and took a deep breath.

"Are you certain you want to do this, Harry?" Draco asked.

"Yeah, I am. Are you okay about going in with me? You don't have to, Draco."

"I want to go in with you. This is important to you, thus, it is important to me, Harry," was Draco's reply, his voice strong with resolve.

Harry turned the doorknob, and it opened. His heart beating faster, he pushed the door open and entered, immediately feeling a sense of peace and warmth that made him feel as if he'd made the correct decision; he had needed to return to the home he had only lived in briefly.

He could hear Draco clearing his throat behind him. "This is where my father died." Harry closed his eyes. His father had been protecting his family; he had stalled Voldemort, possibly for only the briefest of time, but he had done what any husband and father would have done, or so that is what Harry wished to believe.

Re-opening his eyes, Harry looked to his right and saw a closed door, and to his left, what appeared to be a sitting room. Harry reached behind him and grabbed Draco's hand, then entered the room. It was completely devoid of dust, and the furnishings and knickknacks looked as if they had been placed there recently — time really had stood still here. Then he walked toward the fireplace, and his eyes traveled to the mantel where there were two pictures of his parents and him; one of him alone, flying on a small broom; one of Sirius; one of Remus, and two that had two different sets of older people in them — they must be his grandparents. In the center of the mantel, there was a wand, surrounded by lilies and petunias. Harry reached out to touch it, but then pulled his hand back, feeling as if it were wrong to touch the wand. He knew that his mother had probably not been the last one to touch it, but he wanted to think that she had been.

Harry felt as Draco squeezed his hand, and squeezed back. His parents had been gone for over twenty-two years, but the magical residue from them lingered and bathed Harry in warmth that he had never felt before.

He turned to walk out of the room, but stopped: in the corner, propped up against the wall, stood a small broom. This object, Harry did touch; he picked it up, ran his hands up and down the broom, and closed his eyes as he imagined himself as a one-year-old flying around the room, laughing as his parents watched him. Harry thought that he'd do anything to be able to have those memories.

"It looks as though your parents wanted to start you early."

Harry grinned as he looked up at Draco. "Yeah." After a few more seconds, he set the broom back against the wall. "I don't know if we can, but I want to try to go upstairs."

They went through the other rooms on the ground floor before walking to the stairs. Harry pointed his wand in front of him and ran it up and down the stairs, then nodded. "The stairs seem stable." He placed a hand on the banister and began ascending the stairs.

When he was standing on the landing of the first floor, Harry looked to his right and knew that he was looking into what remained of his nursery. Someone had made it so that rain and the elements could not enter, which was a good thing: other than a small section on the left side, the room was almost completely destroyed. Against the left wall, which was yellow, there sat a small, light blue wardrobe with unicorns and dragons painted on the front, and on the floor, not even a meter away from where the destruction began, there were baby clothes: a shirt, blue jeans, socks, a pair of little shoes, and a nappy were all scattered on the oak floor as if someone had thrown them there. His eyes then traveled to the right, to where nothing was recognizable. What remained of his cot was somewhere in the debris.

Having had enough, he turned toward Draco. "I want to find my parents' room, then we can go." They exited his nursery and walked through the other rooms. The last one they entered had a large bed in it. The duvet was pale yellow, and the pillows were blue and yellow. Harry could imagine that it had only been slept in hours earlier. Pictures on the bedside tables reminded Harry how alive this house had one been. Harry's eyes next traveled to the large fireplace. Above it, there was a portrait of Harry laughing and clapping his hands — it must have been taken not long before his parents died.

Harry glanced at Draco, who was standing in front of the window on the far side of the room, then walked over to the bed, sat down, and looked around at the room where his parents had slept. A book was barely visible from its place on the bedside table nearest him, and the thought that either his mother or father had been reading it and had expected to read more of it… Harry leaned over and placed his head in his hands that had been resting on his knees, and allowed the tears to fall freely, and he didn't care that they didn't seem to want to stop. He felt the bed dip when Draco sat beside him, and found himself lying down, his head in Draco's lap. Draco's fingers, as they ran through his hair, kept Harry focused on the present, and he didn't move for quite some time.

Not a word was spoken until they were outside. Harry closed the door, turned around, and looked at Draco. "Please take me home."

A/N:Just a note to say that I have gotten a job and am about to move - this has happened within the past five days. Needless to say, my schedule has changed drastically. I am not sure when the next reason will be posted, but I hope the wait won't be too long.