A/N Well, if you're still reading this, then I am so sorry for not updating since June! Real life, new job, etc etc... not an excuse. And I won't be leaving it so long between updates again. - Phoenixstrike xx
Chapter Eight: The Beginning
Harry was good at a lot of things. He was a good Auror. He was a good flier. He was very good at Quidditch. He was not, however, good at inventing stories, particularly when said stories needed to plausibly, yet untruthfully, explain how he had apparently clairvoyantly known the name of Draco's now ex-boyfriend. His mind began to whir at about fifty miles an hour as he squirmed in his seat, desperately trying to come up with something.
Well, Draco, you see…
…funny story! Do you remember when-
Did I ever tell you about Estella Potter, my great-great-great Grandmother? Trained by Cassandra Trelawney herself...
No. They were all utterly pathetic, and had about as much chance of convincing Draco of his non-existent innocence as he did of flying his broomstick to the moon. Harry opened his mouth to speak, looked into the furious face of Draco, and let out a pathetic, "Um."
"The truth, if you'd be so kind," Draco snapped, sarcasm lacing his words. "I think you at least owe me that courtesy."
"I went to try and see you," Harry said finally. "A while back now, the night I told Ginny I wanted a divorce. It was late, and I turned up at the Manor before I realised what I was doing, then I came to my senses a bit and I turned to leave, but I could see you with him, walking up the path to the entrance. You said his name, then you… you kissed." He left out the past where he thought it had looked beautiful. There was already enough weirdness, and Harry didn't think Draco would take that as a compliment; on the contrary, it could confirm Harry's insanity in his therapist's mind.
Draco had turned white by now, but with fury or other emotion Harry couldn't tell. The stoic mask was firmly in place.
"I see," he said, in a completely calm voice which was in stark contrast to how Harry was currently feeling. Harry knew this voice well. This voice meant danger. "Let's see if I have this right. You come to my house- my private residence- uninvited in the dead of night, then you spy on me in an intimate moment, like some voyeur. You've crossed a line here, Potter. In fact, you're so far over the line that the line is no longer even in your vision."
"I'm sorry," Harry said. Draco just sneered at him.
"That half-hearted apology doesn't even come close to placating me," he said. "Potter, I am your therapist. You are my client. You pay me money and I tend to your needs. We have a business arrangement. We are not friends."
"That makes you sound like a whore," Harry snapped, instantly regretting it, as Draco's face whitened further, and Harry didn't miss the involuntary twitch of Draco's fingers close to the pocket in which Harry knew Draco's wand was located.
"You will not cheapen my profession with your vile vitriol again," Draco said, still in that cool, almost indifferent voice that Harry knew was actually spitting with anger. "And why me? Was I your first choice of confidant? Why didn't you visit one of your other friends?"
"Ron and Hermione have a young baby and a toddler," Harry said. "I can't wake them up in the middle of the night. Plus Ron is Ginny's brother, so he's hardly the best person to go to. I can't talk to my other friends about something like this. And I just needed to talk to someone who would understand. Someone I know I could trust." This was the truth, mainly. But Harry didn't think that mentioning that Draco had been the one Harry most wanted to talk to would help this situation right now.
"You're becoming too dependent on me," Draco said.
"No!" Harry almost yelled his protest. "I'm not, Draco, honestly!" He couldn't understand the fluttering of panic that was threatening to escape from his chest now. All he knew was that it was absolutely vital that Draco forgave him.
"Yes, Potter, you are," Draco continued. "You continue to address me by my given name, despite my requests you do not do so. I repeat, again, as it doesn't seem to be sinking in: we are not friends." His anger was softening somewhat now, to be replaced by something Harry couldn't read. "We cannot be friends. We- I-have to keep our distance from each other. We can't take it further than that." He took a deep sigh, and Harry thought that Draco suddenly looked pained. "I've been thinking for a while now that our sessions probably didn't need to continue as you're doing so well, but if you insist on still receiving therapy, I have a colleague who can take over from me. Gemma Farley. Gemma is a fantastic grief councillor and, with your permission of course, I could hand your case over to her. She's in a perfect position to take over from me as your therapist."
The flutter of panic that had begun in Harry's stomach had turned into a violent thrashing now.
"Please don't blackball me," he said, and couldn't even care at how pathetic his voice sounded. "You're right; I don't need a councillor. I need a friend. I need you, Draco."
Draco's jaw was set tight. His skin was still white, and he looked coldly furious now. Yet his eyes… even in his current state, Harry could see that Draco's eyes held pain, and something almost like regret.
"I have to," Draco said, his voice soft now. "I'm sorry, Potter, but it would be unprofessional of me to allow this to continue. You've become emotionally dependent on me. It's called transference, and is not uncommon, but when it occurs, the professional thing to do is pass a client onto another therapist."
"I won't see her," Harry said, his voice quivering now. He stood to leave. "I'll see you, or no one at all. I'm sorry I came to your house, for what it's worth, but I won't apologise for wanting to be your friend." He grabbed his coat and crossed the room to the exit, pulled at the door handle, but in his state he couldn't open the door. He was just about to draw his wand to cast Alohomora when he noticed Draco standing behind him. Draco's fingers brushed slightly against Harry's as he reached for the handle, and Harry jumped as an unexpected tingle shot up his arm and down his spine. He froze in place, as did Draco. He could hear Draco's breathing next to him now, soft but slightly ragged, and for some inexplicable reason, Harry wanted to shut his eyes and lose himself in the sound of it, to let the hot breath engulf him. He felt the tiny hairs on his neck stand erect as one of Draco's breaths washed over him, and he managed to supress a shiver. He'd not felt like this in a long time, in fact not since he was eighteen…
Oh, shit.
The click of the door as Draco finally got it open drew Harry back to himself, forcing down the horrible realisation that had just slammed into him like a Bludger. He didn't want to leave the office, yet he also couldn't get out of there quickly enough, now that this sickening comprehension dawned on him. He forced himself to meet Draco's eyes, still full of the confliction and pain they had a few minutes ago, as he stepped over the threshold, and uttered a goodbye. Then he turned and walked as quickly as his remaining shred of dignity would allow towards the lift, not hearing Draco's, "Goodbye, Harry," in return.
Of all the people in the world, he had to go and fall for Draco fucking Malfoy. Harry was so screwed.
Life- such as it was- continued for Harry over the next few weeks. He and Ginny received their Degree nisi, which was followed by their Decree absolute at the beginning of December. The official and legal termination of their marriage didn't bring the closure Harry had hoped it would, however. Things were still incredibly strained with the Weasleys: Ginny and he barely had a word to say to one another, George was ignoring Harry's existence, and Molly and Arthur were trying to treat Harry the same but for obvious reasons they were finding it difficult. Ron was trying his hardest but Harry noticed that a lot of his jovial "Come on, mate"-s were forced. Only Hermione treated him the same as before. His relationship with them had not been helped a single iota by the Press, who, once they caught wind of the divorce, featured Harry and Ginny on the front page of the Prophet every day for a week, speculating on every reason for the split, including a bunch of fabricated 'exclusive interviews with the Potters' closest friends'. Only when they started bringing up Matthew as the cause of the split did Harry lose his temper, instructing his solicitor to write a strongly-worded cease and desist letter, which did, thankfully, bring an end to the conjecture. Still, he was stared at in public again in a way that he hadn't been since the first few months following Voldemort's defeat, which was doing nothing to improve Harry's mood.
Then, of course, was the (not so) small issue of Draco. Or, 'the prat Harry Potter had to fall for, because Heaven's above he should have a normal life for once', as Harry was calling him in his head. Harry had neither seen nor heard from Draco since Draco had terminated their therapy, with the exception that a supply of sleeping draughts arrived weekly with Draco's owl, although never with a note. Harry, in all his stubbornness and anger at the git, had thought about simply pouring them down the sink, but he was too frightened of the dreams that would follow if he did so.
Not seeing Draco had done nothing to diminish the feeling of want inside Harry, however. Now that he had realised his feelings (and, once he started looking back, the signs had been there for months, really), he found himself thinking about Draco all the time. Only his own stubbornness stopped him visiting the Manor or writing a letter; it would be a cold day in Hell before he lowered his pride enough to contact someone who had outright rejected him and all but thrown him out of their office.
Luckily his relationship with Teddy was still strong, Teddy being the one person in the world to truly forgive him for his behaviour over the past year. A week before Christmas, Harry took him to Diagon Alley to buy Christmas presents. They were in Fortescue's when the inevitable happened. Harry had just ordered them both huge peanut butter sundaes topped with chocolate sprinkles and cream and they had sat at a table to eat them when Draco walked into the parlour with Scorpius. Harry felt a pleasurable glow at the sight. How could Harry not notice him? At almost six-foot, with white-blond hair and robes in dark charcoal grey, Draco stood out from the crowd of mousy-looking shoppers. Harry watched him remove a pair of black dragon-hide gloves and speak his order to the waitress. It was then that he realised Teddy had been talking to him and Harry hadn't heard a word.
"…and Gran said I can have a Crup but only if I promise to play with it every day. Harry? Are you listening?"
"Sorry, Teddy," Harry said, shoving a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth for something to do. "Crup. Yeah. Great." He watched Draco hand over a few Galleons and accept a tray with his order on it from the waitress at the counter, and caught the exact moment he realised Harry was sitting at the table. Scorpius, who had been watching his father, followed Draco's gaze and let out a yell of delight when he spotted them.
"Teddy! Mr Harry!" he shouted, and before Draco could put the tray on the counter in order to grab hold of him, he darted through the crowd, dodging the tables that separated Harry from the counter, and sat down in an empty chair at their table. Harry, who was still watching Draco, saw his former therapist sigh in defeat and reluctantly make his way over to their table.
"Hello, Potter," he said curtly, placing the tray containing his and Scorpius' sundaes and a pot of tea next to Harry's. "Would it be OK if Scorpius and I joined you?" Harry could see that part of Draco really wanted him to refuse. Like that was going to happen.
"Of course," said Harry, his tummy squirming pleasantly. He moved his coffee mug to allow Draco more room. "The more the merrier."
He and Draco sat in an uncomfortable silence, each stealing glances at the other when they thought the other wasn't looking, and listened to Scorpius and Teddy's conversation, which was once again on the subject of Crups.
"I've got a Crup," Scorpius told Teddy. "He's called Orthrus. Father says an Orthrus has two heads, not two tails, but it's close enough."
"How have you been?" Draco asked Harry quietly, causing him to start slightly.
"I'm doing OK. Well, I'm not drinking again, or curled up in a ball of depression, or convinced myself again that it's my fault Matthew died because I'm a despicable human being, if that's what you mean. I'm coping, I think. Taking each day at a time, like you taught me to. I've missed you though," Harry said. He kicked himself; he'd not meant to let that slip out.
"Crups don't have two tails. They have one, but it's forked," Teddy corrected Scorpius.
"I'm glad you're doing well. And I've missed you too," Draco said, his cheeks flushing ever so slightly pink at the admission. Harry's stomach gave its pleasant flip once again at the words. "I read about your divorce in the Prophet."
"Everyone read about my divorce in the fucking Prophet," Harry said, and even as he did so his eyes roamed the tables of Fortescue's, where at least four people were gawping at him and two quickly averted their eyes. Draco shot him a sympathetic look.
"Forked? Like this?" Scorpius asked, picking up a fork from the cutlery pot on the table and examining it in confusion. Teddy shook his head and began to explain, pausing now and again to shovel more ice cream into his mouth. Neither Harry nor Draco were listening properly to the boys' conversation, too focussed on their clandestine staring of the other, so didn't hear Scorpius' question when it was asked.
"What? Oh, yes, whatever," Draco said distractedly to the unheard question, then jumped violently (as did Harry and the elderly witch on the next table) when both boys shrieked with excitement and yelled, "Yes!"
"Teddy!" Harry scolded, as he helped the elderly witch Vanish the spilt tea from the table which she had knocked over when she jumped, whilst Draco poured her a fresh cup from his own teapot.
"Can I ask what caused this outburst?" Draco asked, once the witch had stopped yelling, and Harry cast a Muffliato over their table.
"You said yes!" Scorpius said.
"Yes?"
"They can come!" Scorpius continued. "I asked if Teddy and Mr Harry could come to the Manor for our Christmas Eve party, and you said yes! This is going to be the best Christmas ever!"
Harry and Draco gaped at each other whilst the boys continued to exchange excited chatter and eat their ice creams.
"This is why I really should have listened to my son," Draco said through gritted teeth. He seemed to be having an internal argument with himself, before finally coming to a decision. "I feel rescinding your invite now would only cause both boys huge disappointment. Therefore I suppose it wouldn't be the end of the world if you were to attend."
Harry grinned into his mug of coffee. Suddenly he was looking forward to Christmas much more than he had been half an hour ago.
Harry was, frankly, bored. Teddy and Scorpius had disappeared from what they called the "dull grown-ups" to Scorpius' room where, the last time Narcissa checked on them both, they were playing Gobstones. He'd barely seen Draco; forced into his role as host, Draco had spent the majority of the party mingling with his guests, ordering the house-elves to refresh drinks and plates of food, and basically doing everything he possibly could to keep well out of Harry's way, much to Harry's annoyance. Aside from the handful of Slytherin ex-students Harry recognised from Hogwarts, none of whom had uttered a single word to him, and Draco's mother, Harry knew none of the guests and was standing alone in the corner of the huge room. He sipped at his glass of cherry syrup, hoping it would hide the scowl from his face as Blaise Zabini stared at him suspiciously from his chair whilst a blonde woman Harry vaguely recognised from his year at Hogwarts hang off his arm. It wasn't the first such look he'd received all evening from guests of the Malfoys, all of whom wondering why on earth Draco had invited Harry Potter, and Harry was quite certain it wouldn't be the last. Just to give him five minutes' breathing space, rather than because he needed to actually go, he put down his drink and went in search of a bathroom. No one had shown him where one was and he was buggered if he could remember from Scorpius' birthday party over four months previously. Draco was nowhere in sight; Harry had been keeping tabs on him as much as he could and had concluded that the git hadn't even been in the room for the last twenty minutes.
After wondering around aimlessly without success for ten minutes, however, Harry had to admit he was lost. He had not yet found a bathroom, and he didn't know his way back to the party either. He was on the verge of casting a Point Me spell when he spotted something in one of the doorways. A Draco-shaped something. Yet it was as motionless as a statue, like it was a waxwork. But why would a statue be in the doorway?
"Draco?" Harry asked tentatively, approaching it. The rigid mass didn't so much as twitch, yet Harry noticed the eyes blinking. "Oh, crap, that's actually you. Have you been cursed?"
Draco blinked again, his eyes looking panicked.
"Right," Harry said. "One blink for yes, two for no, OK? Are you stuck?"
One blink. Harry wondered how Draco managed to shoot him an exasperated look which plainly said 'are you shitting me?' whilst Petrified.
"OK, stupid question. Obviously you are. Shall I try and find someone? Your mum?"
Two blinks.
"There is something I can do?" One blink. Harry pulled out his wand. Draco began to blink frantically. "Fine, I understand you, no spells." He looked around for clues as he pocketed his and once more, drawing on his Auror training, before finally spotting what he believed to be the culprit. "Draco, is this mistletoe above the door enchanted? That's what's Petrified you?" One blink. "And to free you, I guess I have to…"
Shit. Of all the times in the last few weeks where Harry had imagined kissing Draco, none of them had involved Draco frozen and motionless, unable to remotely kiss back. "Are you sure someone else shouldn't be doing this instead of me?" Two blinks again, and Draco's eyes flashed with anger. "Oh, OK. Fine."
He took a deep breath, tilted his head slightly up, and kissed Draco lightly on the cheek. "Did that work?" Two blinks, followed by a roll of the eyes. "Why didn't it work?"
There was no response from Draco, and Harry realised it was because he hadn't asked it as a yes or no question. He thought about it. Draco had 'said' that he could free him, yet the kiss on the cheek hadn't worked. Unless…
"Do I have to kiss you on the mouth?" Harry asked, hoping that he'd managed to keep the quicker of nervousness from his voice. One blink. "Right. Close your eyes then."
It was only a peck, Harry told himself. One small peck that didn't mean anything. He was just freeing Draco from his stupid enchanted mistletoe, that was all. His body clearly didn't know that, however, and Harry felt his heart speed up, the smooth rhythm in his chest quickening in anticipation of feeling Draco's lips against his own. He stepped closer to Draco, and could feel his breath washing over his face, just as he had done in Draco's office all those weeks ago. Harry leant forwards, closed his own eyes before he could stop himself, and pressed his mouth against Draco's.
The kiss was over in an instant, but that didn't prevent the tingle, ten times as strong as it was in Draco's office, from shooting down his spine. He forced his eyes open and saw that Draco had, finally, been released from whatever curse had been holding him there.
"Some fine Auror you are," Draco said, stretching and flexing his stiff fingers. "'Did that work'. Honestly, Potter, with observation skills like yours I'm surprised you haven't been made Head of the whole department yet." He was clearly trying to sound angry, but Harry couldn't help but notice Draco was failing miserably. His cheeks were flushed a deep pink- from embarrassment, no doubt- but he was looking at Harry softly, in the way he had done the last time Harry had been here, when Draco had told Harry that he, too, was gay. It had been, Harry realised now looking back, the moment something shifted between them and, whatever Draco said, it was the moment they had become more than therapist and patient.
"At least I didn't get trapped in my own doorway by a plant. You're welcome, by the way," Harry said, trying to break the tension. It didn't seem to work. "Um, Draco?"
Draco was still staring at him, and Harry had noticed that he'd made no effort to back away.
"Merry Christmas," Draco said, and Harry did let out a gasp of surprise when a finger lightly brushed his cheek. Neither had made any move to put more distance between them. Draco was still so close; the finger that had traced his cheek was now at the nape of his neck, and all Harry would have to do is lean forward a couple of inches and their lips would connect once more…
"Father! Teddy won't share!" came a voice from the end of the corridor, and both Harry and Draco pulled away, like a couple of schoolboys caught putting frogspawn inside the teacher's desk. Scorpius was standing about ten feet away from them, a couple of vivid blue Gobstones in his hands.
"I am!" Teddy yelled, appearing next to Scorpius, his hair a fiery red colour and covered in putrid Gobstone fluid. "It's not my fault you're too much of a baby to learn to take turns!"
"Boys!" Harry and Draco bellowed together, and even in his irritation that whatever he and Draco had just shared had been broken by a stupid childish squabble, Harry was amused by their conjoined outburst.
"Teddy, play nicely or we'll leave. Scorpius is younger than you so you have to accept that sometimes he'll play differently to you," Harry said, then held up a hand when Teddy began to protest. "Scorpius, it's important to take turns fairly, otherwise the game isn't fun for the other person. Do you think you can take turns?" Scorpius looked like he was about to cry, but nodded. "Good. Now shake hands and make up." Both boys turned to each other and shook hands. Teddy's hair dulled from fiery crimson to a more subtle maroon, before settling on the same shade of blue as the Gobstones, much to Scorpius' delight. Then, giggling as if the last few minutes hadn't happened, they ran back down the hallway happily.
"You're great with them," Draco said. "You have natural parenting skills."
It was like a lead balloon had landed on him. Harry's good humour drained instantly.
"Well, I'll never put it to the test, will I?" He snapped, thinking of Matthew, and ex-wives, and the fact he was fucking gay, for crying out loud. "I'm never going to be a father. I'm not going to have a family."
"I cannot believe that you of all people think that family has to be flesh and blood to count, given your own experiences," Draco said. "Your blood relatives- your mother's sister and her son, yes? They treated you appallingly. Yet you have had a family since you were eleven years old. You have had the Weasleys, who love you like one of their own. You have Teddy and my aunt now, and Teddy has you and the Weasleys too. You are the closest thing to a father that boy has ever, or will ever, have, and you still say you're not a parent? Open your eyes, Potter. You've been a parent to him since you were eighteen."
"The Weasleys won't want me. Not if they find out what Charlie and I got up to, which they probably will because George knows now," Harry said. Every trace of desire that Harry had experienced in the last ten minutes had completely evaporated now. He was just feeling miserable and wanted nothing more to grab Teddy and Apparate them home. But he couldn't. Running away was what the Harry of a few months ago would have done. He was stronger than that now.
"You treated your wife badly. I won't deny that," Draco said. "But families love unconditionally. That is why my mother lied to the Dark Lord to save you. That is why I tried so desperately hard to kill Dumbledore. To keep our family safe. Because that old codger was right about one thing. Love is extremely strong. You're not going to be alone, Harry."
Harry didn't understand why it was hearing his given name on Draco's lips that triggered it, but he sniffed loudly and bit his lip as his eyes filled with tears. He looked away, mortified that this was happening, here and now of all places, in the hallway of Malfoy bloody Manor.
"Can I have a minute or two?" he asked, and Draco nodded, directed him to the bathroom three doors along, and headed back to the party. Harry entered the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face, willing himself to get a grip. A few minutes and a strong Cheering Charm later, he double-checked his face in the mirror to make sure it didn't look like he'd been crying, and set back off through the labyrinth of hallways in search of the Christmas party once more.
The party ended at about eleven, and when Harry checked on Teddy he found him and Scorpius curled up on Scorpius' bed, both sound asleep.
"Don't wake him," Draco said. "Let him spend the night."
Harry nodded. He had Teddy overnight anyway, as it was his turn to have him for Christmas day. He pulled his wand and Levitated the duvet over the sleeping boys, then with another flick extinguished the oil lamps from the room.
"The house-elves will make up a bed for you, too," Draco said. He called a name and a tiny house-elf dressed in a spotty pink tea towel arrived. "Make up the spare quarters, then show Mr Potter to them please. Have a phial of my sleeping draught left on the nightstand for him."
Without further ado, Draco bade Harry a completely polite, but detached, goodnight and headed up the grand staircase to his own quarters. Harry sighed. It seemed that every time Draco let his guard down around him, he put his shield up ten times harder next time. That had to stop, Harry thought. As the house-elf informed Harry that his room was ready and "You is to be following Chalmers, sir," Harry was already coming to a decision. What he and Draco shared earlier, with the ridiculous mistletoe and the immediate aftermath, was far more than Draco claimed them to be. And Harry suspected that Draco needed him just as much as he needed Draco, if only he'd bloody well admit it. It was time to take back some control of his life.
After all, that was exactly what Draco had been encouraging him to do now for nine months.
Draco may be stubborn, but so was he. And Harry did so enjoy a challenge. Slipping between the sheets five minutes later, Harry smiled, feeling more his old self than he had done in months. This was just the beginning.
