A Gentleman's Gentleman, ch 9

Warnings: none for this chapter

Beta: A big thanks to Hidden Lily.

-:-

Chapter 9: Another one?

Draco slept badly, his dreams a mixture of his past and his unconscious fears…

'Harry!' Draco ran towards the figure, but his little legs couldn't move fast enough. A hand on his shoulder stopped him short, then stepped in front of him, obscuring his goal.

'Draco, come, we are leaving-'

'No! I don't want to!' Draco cried, stomping his foot petulantly. Lucius took his arm in a vice-like grip.

'Do not argue, your mother is waiting.'

'If she wants to move to France, let her!' Draco tried to get away, but he was too weak, and so he was dragged away…

His mother, always so sick, so tired, so sick of the English climate. Southern France was the place she could finally rest. Draco, even though he was only eight, could tell she was never truly sick. Not like the time he had almost died of Dragon Pox when he was five. That was sick. This was nothing. She was always complaining!

He hated her, he felt the hate burning through him, but it was a new hate. He had not felt that way then, because he didn't know then what her decision would bring. He could hate her now though, in his dreams.

In France many things had changed…

'Draco,' his name had never been whispered quite like that before. Sébastien's lips were only just shirting his earlobe, tickling him.

'Stop, I want Harry.' But he was only a shadow on the edge of the scene. Draco could not reach him.

'No you don't. He's not even here. Only I am here.' Draco tried to twist away, but the familiar hands held him tight. This was an embrace he had once cherished.

'Let me go.'

'Draco, come with me. I will feed you strawberries and champagne.' Draco wanted to say no, but he knew he had already said yes.

Suddenly, as Draco felt his naked body in that fiery embrace, the door banged open. Again and again it banged open, the white light blinding even though the hallway had been barely lit. Draco shielded his eyes, but he need not see who was there. He knew it all too well.

'Father!'

'Harry!' Draco sat bolt upright in bed, sweating and panting. His eyes searched the small room, but the shadows were empty. His memories stayed in his dream. Thank Merlin for that. It felt so utterly strange to feel such terror while reliving times that had been pleasant, at least until a certain point, especially when the memories were twisted with dream-elements.

In an effort to shake the dream off Draco decided to get up, despite the fact that the sun had not yet risen. He went to the small bathroom down the hall in the otherwise abandoned servants' quarters (all the house-elves slept together). After washing his face he stared at the mirror and saw his fifteen-year-old self in the pale eyes.

He had been so in love, so blind! Sébastien had told him everything he had wanted to hear, and he had ignored everything else: his upbringing, his status, his family. He had even been blind to the downward spiral his father was pulling the House of Malfoy towards.

Draco knew it was the Manor that was bringing his past to mind. He hated it. He had done everything he could to leave it all in France, but even little things brought it all back. There was the time he had been to the market and there had been papers from all over the world for sale alongside The Daily Prophet. Upon the sight of Le Monde Magique he had been unable to move for five whole minutes.

Cursing his luck, Draco went about his morning ablutions. His mood would not improve as long as he stayed here, and it was getting more and more difficult hiding this fact from Harry. In fact, he was fairly certain he wasn't hiding things very well at all.

Draco knew Harry was suspicious of Draco's sudden return to formality even when alone, but it was a defence mechanism Draco had developed. His professional manner acted as a shield in all situations. With the Manor seeming to press in from all sides, he needed all the protection he could get. He knew he was upsetting Harry, but he simply could not stop himself. He could not let go while in this house.

With a sigh, Draco went to eat breakfast with the house-elves. What had his life become? No, don't dwell on that! Draco slammed the bathroom door shut so hard the walls rattled.

xxx

The young Lord Potter lounged by the lake, quietly contemplating his valet. Someone observing him might think he was simply taking in the scenery, but in reality Harry's mind was abuzz with activity.

He could not understand why Draco was so cold and distant. It had happened on the evening of their arrival so perhaps it had something to do with their coming here? Unfortunately, Harry could not think of a single reason for why the Chang's manor would affect his valet so.

Blaise Zabini had said Draco was very capable. Surely that meant Draco had made a good impression? Harry thoughts caused a frown to furrow his brow. How had they run into each other? Blaise hadn't said…

'Lord Potter?' Harry startled and looked up. Ginny was standing hesitantly over him in a lovely yellow summer dress. Her hair shone in the sun.

'Miss Weasley,' Harry replied. He smiled once his nerves calmed. 'Formality has no place here, I think. I'm sure I told you to call me Harry,' he said sincerely. The whole point of his coming had been to leave Lord Potter behind, after all.

'Then you must call me Ginny,' the redhead replied. 'May I sit?'

'Of course,' Harry said at once, managing to find his manners. 'Let me transfigure something into a bench or blanket. I seem to have just plonked myself down right on the grass.'

'Well, it is very soft and dry,' Ginny commented as she sat down. Harry noticed she was slightly flushed and thought perhaps it was a bit too hot to sit in the sun. He was just about to offer to transfigure an umbrella of some sort, when Ginny continued. 'How are you enjoying your stay here?'

'Very well,' Harry said, trying not to think of Draco. 'The Changs are very easy to be around.'

'Yes, they are.'

'Where is the youngest Miss Chang?' Harry inquired.

'She is practicing her Latin,' Ginny replied. 'A necessary evil, I'm afraid.' Harry smiled at her comment. He had always liked the Weasleys. They never pretended to be anything more than they were. They were never false. It was one thing Harry could not stand; false people. Like the Umbridges…

'You must have been very good at all kinds of subjects to become governess,' Harry remarked.

'Oh, I did tolerably well,' Ginny waved the compliment away. 'What about you? What was your favourite subject?' Harry blinked. No one had ever asked him that before. He was at a loss for a moment.

'I suppose Defence Against The Dark Arts was my best subject. But I also very much enjoyed Care of Magical Creatures, even though Professor Hagrid is rather… unconventional.'

'To say the least,' Ginny laughed. 'He was the best teacher, I think, even though we never learned anything.' Harry chuckled at that and could not help but agree. 'I remember you at school. You and my brother always got to go on the best adventures.'

'Perhaps "best" is not the appropriate word. Foolhardy more likely.'

'Perhaps…' Ginny mused, staring at Harry with a small smile at the corner of her mouth. 'A pity you are so far away from each other now.'

'Far away? It's only a floo trip.'

'I meant… socially.'

'Oh,' Harry looked away, uncomfortable as he always was when discussing such things. He thought it slightly in poor taste of Ginny to bring it up. But why should he not say what he thought to her of all people? She would not care, surely? 'I don't think my good fortune of inheriting a title should stop us from being friends,' he pronounced clearly, surveying the lake.

'You don't?'

'Of course not,' he looked back at Ginny, his words sharper than intended. 'Ron is one of the few true friends I have. I do not care one wit whether he is the son of a king, a ministry employee or a beggar. There are no laws that prevent us from socialising. Tell me, he has not told you he is worried about it, has he?' Harry grew agitated as he let his emotions get the best of him.

'No, not at all,' Ginny reassured him, smiling kindly. 'I'm sorry if I made you nervous. Thank you for a lovely chat, but I must return to my duties.' She leaned forward, the movement so quick Harry did not have time to react. He felt a firm press of lips to his cheek and then she was up and halfway across the lawn. He stared after her, perplexed.

xxx

'Draco?' Harry searched his rooms and found Draco putting away some clothes in the ornate closet in the bedroom.

'Yes, Sir?'

'I need your help.' Draco put away the last robe and turned his attention to his employer.

'Of course, Sir.' Harry sighed at Draco's tone. It wasn't so much what he said, but the way his face remained statue-like.

'It's Miss Weasley.' Harry turned and went back into the sitting room, flopping down onto the sofa. He both heard and felt Draco follow, standing stiff behind the sofa to Harry's left. 'I think… well, it is just a slight suspicion, but I think she might, just might, be interested… in me.' When Draco did not immediately answer, Harry turned and stared.

'You mean she indicated to you that she was not adverse to you courting her?' Harry rolled his eyes at the convoluted question.

'I mean she might not be adverse to courting me!'

'Well, if you want my professional opinion you should find a way to indirectly, but politely imply that the degree of separation in your social status prohibits you from making any advances towards her, apart from an informal friendship of course.'

'Draco!' Harry sprang from his seat and faced his valet, or tormentor in this case. 'Stop this at once!'

'Stop speaking or stop giving you my advice?'

'Stop both if you can't do it properly.'

'If my performance is not to your liking-'

'Draco, stop,' Harry held up his hands for silence, closing his eyes in exasperation. He opened them again when he found his control, and that was when he saw it. There was pain in Draco's eyes. He was struggling, with something, but what it was Harry had no idea. In any case pushing Draco clearly had no effect, so it would probably be best if he just let it rest. 'I was just hoping…' Harry continued, trying to find his original point. 'That you could find some ingenious way of doing it like you did with the Umbridges. Only, not make her hate me or anything! It's just… you are very cunning.' Harry hoped the compliment might help. Draco remained stone-faced.

'I am afraid that would be inadvisable. In fact, upon further reflection, I cannot think of a single thing apart from a direct refusal that would deter a Weasley. Indeed, my previous advice should be disregarded. Weasleys are known for their stubbornness. I cannot imagine what a female Weasley is like in that regard.'

'You know of the Weasleys?' was what Harry managed to get out of the speech, thanks to the speed at which Draco said it.

'By reputation only. They are rather infamous despite their low status-'

'This from a valet?' Harry actually slapped his hand over his mouth. He could not phantom what had possessed him to utter such horrid words. It was just that the Weasleys were very dear friends, despite the unfortunate situation with Ginny. He never could stand idle while his friends needed defending. But to insult Draco that way! Harry was appalled, and Draco had, incredibly enough, become even more stone-faced.

'If that is all, Sir?'

'Draco-'

'I would prefer it if you called me Spinks, Sir. Some distance, after all, should be maintained in such a relationship.'

'I'm sorry,' Harry said, his eyes pleading. 'Truly, Draco, I did not mean it. I was only angry because you insulted the Weasleys. You know me! I don't care about social statuses! I'm an orphan for Merlin's sake!'

'You are Lord Potter.'

'I'm Harry,' he tried to insist. The back of his throat felt like acid. He was either going to throw up or start sobbing. He did not know which was worse at that point. Draco met his eyes again and seemed to deflate just a little. It might have been Harry's imagination, but he may just have seen a tiny nod.

'I accept your apology, but I should get back to work.' Harry's shoulders slumped when Draco bowed and excused himself. He hadn't lost Draco, but neither had things improved at all. He fell back on the sofa and close his eyes again, tears of frustration slipping out.

Abruptly, he realised one thing he could do: go home.

Harry would not stay another night in Chang Manor.