Yay! Again! I know, I've been so slack lately and I'm so sorry - this just needed a bit of inspiration. I've been thinking a lot about how the past (in the books) fits with the present, and this kind of popped up.
Hope you enjoy!
Chapter Nine
Now, this was the life. First class air travel... Harry grinned to himself and snuggled back into his seat as they prepared for take-off. Everything was perfect. Lydia was travelling in Business Class, along with various others who seemed to be paid to follow Draco around and cater to his every whim: it was just Draco with him in First Class, and apparently they would be landing at JFK airport in just under six hours. He had been assured this meant expensive meals too, so this was definitely going to be worth a long flight.
"Harry, you need to stop wriggling around. And do up your seatbelt, we're about to take-off." Harry grinned at Draco as though he hadn't even heard the snappy tone employed by his lover and casually wriggled a bit more before doing up the belt. Simply because it was fun to annoy the stiff man beside him. Turns out Draco doesn't enjoy taking off or landing much...
Once the seatbelt sign was turned off (and Draco looked less like white marble and more like a businessman) Harry decided it was important to know more about what exactly he'd gotten himself into. Especially since it was too late to back out now.
"So... where are we going, exactly?" Draco turned to him slowly, one eyebrow raised in superiority. "Well, you will be mostly stuck in our suite." Harry nodded to himself – expected.
"Which suite would this be, then?"
"The Ty Warner Penthouse Suite at the Four Seasons. Great views, I promise." Harry just looked at him in shock. The Penthouse Suite of the Four Seasons?! Just how loaded was Draco Malfoy these days?! His surprise must have been noticed, because Draco launched into an explanation of business deals and Beanie Babies and how Warner was actually letting him stay there at no charge (although of course there would be some payment to the hotel for room service etc.). Harry was simply stunned. Of course he'd known that Draco was rich, the suite at the last place was obviously his and couldn't have been cheap – but this was just staggering. Draco had even started talking about various other billionaires he knew personally (Karl Albrecht – a golfing buddy; Prince Alaweed Bin Talal Alsaud – often talked about economic reforms; Mikhail Khodorkovsky – Draco recommended his current lawyer; etc. ad nauseum) before Harry cut him off.
"Just how bloody rich are you?!" He hadn't thought it through, he really hadn't. Draco looked furious, and Harry quickly realised how that must have sounded.
"Um, that is, I didn't mean it to sound like that, I just, wow – you don't act -"
"Like what? A snob? A capitalist wanker? Tell me Harry, just how am I supposed to act? Yes, I was born into considerable wealth – many relatives both close and distant named me as their heir on the basis of blood. And I built up that wealth – I have a finacial brain. But that does NOT define me." He clicked his fingers at the airhostess, ordered a brandy and dry, and promptly proceeded to ignore Harry completely.
It was torture. Sitting so close to Draco when he refused to even acknowledge that Harry was there... It had been almost an hour since they'd last spoken, so they had at least four more to go, and Harry couldn't take it. He knew he had to do something – but what? Of course Draco was sensitive about his wealth: he'd probably dealt with gold-diggers before, and Harry's outburst couldn't have been reassuring. What could he do to fix this?
"Well this is... dismal. Look, Draco, I honestly didn't mean anything, I didn't think! If you'd seen my flat! It was shock, I swear. We've both been through a lot since Hogwarts – don't you think we should talk to each other and find out what's changed? Because that's all I was doing. Well, that and finding out where I'm living until you decide we're moving again..." The corner of Draco's mouth twitched upward slightly, and Harry knew he was getting somewhere. He just needed to be delicate; or rather, bring out his more Slytherin side and ignore the rash Griffindor part.
"So, obviously you're all buddy with a heap of Muggle Billionaires... what about the people you hung out with at school? What are they doing, do you still see them? Come on, talk to me, you know you want to..." he finished with a sing-song lilt, and Draco gave in to his need to smile. He sighed to himself: Harry was too good at this.
"Harry, I'm friends with the guy who started up Ebay. I know a lot of people who did well for themselves – whether 'self-made' or 'inherited and building'. All of my friends at school were well off too – because they understood what that is like, understood what growing up wealthy was all about. Many of them are still pretty damn rich; some not so much. But their stories are their own to tell, not mine.
I can, however, tell you my story.
As you know, I was born to Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy on the fifth of June, 1980. My childhood wasn't especially wonderful from my point of view – I had private tutors visit the Manor from the age of four to teach me a lot of things I've never really needed, and plenty of things I wish I hadn't."
"Like what? An example of each... if you don't mind..."
"Well, I've never been required to know that the Bornean Flat-headed Frog doesn't have lungs – unfortunately, I was taught Crucio at the age of seven, and I have regrettabley been forced to use it on muggles."
"Oh."
"Quite. Anyway, apart from my all-consuming studies I was often introduced to the children of my parent's friends – and they became mine, as I was rather locked up and unable to meet anyone else. The first true friend I ever made was Theodore Nott. Younger than myself, but we had a unique understanding of controlling parents and painfull tutoring sessions that lasted for much of our days. I even studied with my Father on Saturdays – as did Theo. We were fast friends from a very young age, and it was quite disconcerting to start Hogwarts without him."
"You did have Crabbe and Goyle."
"Hah! Yes – my bodyguards. They were always much maligned. Vincent Crabbe was a bit of a nutter – certainly he believed everything his father told him, ultimately suceeding in destroying himself in his blind adhearance. But neither of them were complete idiots. In fact, Gregory is currently a majority shareholder of Cantaloupe Group: you know, they own a lot of restaurants worldwide. I mentioned he should do something he loved, but he made the investment himself. He's married with children, just like most people are becoming these days.
I have to say though that my first Hogwarts friend who helped open my mind was Blaise Zabini. At the time his mother was distinctly disliked by anyone with old money – the pureblood aristocrats I must call family. In fact Pansy asked me not to speak with him several times before giving in. She was upset at the exclusive friendship, but mostly fearful. She knew better than I how our parents might react.
I was lucky, in the end. Mother convinced Father to allow the friendship on the basis of Blaise's deceased father, despite her distaste for Gloriana and her string of wealthy husbands. And this meant that I was able to learn from Blaise, learn about the ways of the world outside of my cotton-wool bound existence at Malfoy Manor. In fact, Blaise taught me that I actually enjoyed men just as much if not slightly more so than women – although that wasn't until fourth year.
He was the first person to be honest with me. He told me I was an idiot in how I'd asked for your friendship, insulting Weasley (regardless of family history). I explained to him that I'd never had to make friends before, that everyone I'd met had wanted to be friends with the Malfoys. Blaise laughed and said that maybe if I asked nicely I could be his. From that moment we were close. I confided in Blaise when I simply couldn't talk to anyone else, and he always gave an honest perspective. He even tried to help me avoid taking the Mark – but as you know, he failed.
Most Slytherins were actually quite against Voldemort. The only ones I know of who willingly joined him were Vincent Crabbe and Graham Montague (currently in Azkaban). I find it endlessly entertaining whenever people say I must be evil because I was in Slytherin – I point out Andromeda Tonks, Severus Snape, even old Slughorn – and then I make a remark about your parents and Peter Pettigrew. That generally shuts them up.
You know much of what happened at Hogwarts. I spent the first three years completely secure in my hatred for everyone different from myself: muggle-borns, half-bloods, half-breeds, blacks, asians, queers, you name it. I was the perfect Malfoy heir. But on the first night of our fourth year I ran into Roger Davies – you know, the Ravenclaw Chaser. He ended up teaching me a few things."
"Like what?"
"Well, for starters he taught me that I liked kissing boys just as much as girls. He was older, sure of himself – I panicked at my own enjoyment of the incident and refused to tell anyone about it except Blaise until now."
"I thought you said Blaise taught you that you were bi?" Harry queried, his intent expression slipping slightly into a frown of confusion. Draco smiled indulgently.
"Blaise taught me that it was ok, helped me realise what I felt. He certainly wasn't my first kiss. That was actually Daphne Greengrass – although she did it just to annoy Pansy, we were never actually involved. Pansy was quite possessive of me. Still is, really, but I mostly ignore it. We were never romantically involved, although we pretended to be. Pansy doesn't do men."
"WHAT?!"
"Settle down Scarhead, honestly. We could hardly tell our parents that I'm bi and she's a lesbian, could we? So we pretended to be together, to keep them off our backs. And out of our real private lives...
I'll admit I got around a bit during fourth and fifth. I was experimenting, seeing what I liked and what I didn't. The Quidditch locker rooms proven convenient – Adrian Pucey was a Chaser on the team, and we often used the showers longer than the others, if you get my drift. And Miles Bletchley was our Keeper for quite a few years – he ended up showing me a few tricks too. Of course there were those not in Slytherin. We are talking about a period of discovery afterall. A few Ravenclaws: Michael Corner, even Luna Lovegood. And Hufflepuff even got a look in with Hannah Abbott (I went through a bit of a phase with blonde girls). In the end I had rather a thing for older boys however – they were highly educational. An older girl expects you to get on with it if she knows you're not a virgin, which I clearly wasn't, and younger students were too intimidated to suggest things."
"Did you ever actually do anything with Blaise Zabini though? I mean, sure, you were a bit of a man-whore. But?" Harry got a shove and a grin for this comment, much to his relief (it had been a bit of a risk to call Draco a slut), and he took a moment to kiss his lover before looking expectant. Draco just sighed again in resignation and continued with his tale.
"Yes, I did. Blaise was the second boy I ever had sex with, and my first time topping. I still thank Adrian for teaching me what to do – he was certainly my greatest teacher, and if it hadn't been for him I might have seriously hurt my best friend. I don't regret any of my experiences during those years. I learnt about my own sexuality in a manner that would have horrified my parents, and realised that race didn't matter to me, nor blood purity. I still believed in my superiority, my duties to the Malfoy lineage, don't get me wrong. But I wasn't that foolish little boy any longer.
And of course, with Father's imprisonment at the end of fifth year, I really had to open my eyes.
The war, for me, was painful. I did my best to protect my friends and family, and often failed miserably. I try not to think about how different things might have been if I had accepted Dumbledore's offer: would it have worked? Would my friends have suffered without me? The best thing I can say about that time is that I survived to become a better man. I learnt that blood purity means nothing when it comes to feeling pain, or dying; the same with race or sexual preference.
By the way, thanks for your testimony. They told me after my trial that it was largely the Pensieve memories of yourself and other known resistance fighters that enabled me to be fully acquitted."
"Your more than welcome." Draco couldn't resist stroking his fingers along Harry's jaw, and the brunette pulled him into a passionate kiss. They only stopped when Draco realised the hostess standing behind them, blushing slightly as he moved back.
"Your orders? Lunch will be served shortly." She grinned, and Harry muttered his order to Draco rather than actually turn to look at her. They ended up both having the chicken – in some sort of white wine sauce with camembert and proscuitto, on top of potato gnocci. It was certainly the fanciest meal Harry'd ever had, but he was distracted by his thoughts. Life for Draco had been a far cry from his own, even during Hogwarts when Harry had thought he knew all about Malfoy's movements. Now he only really had to find out about what happened next. Well, and the nasty part – when Draco would ask him what his life had been like...
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