AN: Thanks to the people who reviewed, you're all awesome! Can't believe I'm on chapter 10 already of this story. And to think, when I wrote the first chapter it was just a plotbunny, and I had no idea what I was doing...-tear-
I do apologise also if I got anyone excited, with the title of this chapter. It's not quite what you might think...
Chapter Ten: The Proposal
Wednesday 1st July
Harry inclined his head in response to the shouted greetings of the other Aurors in their shared workspace. Being as famous as he was, Harry's status rendered him the most popular amongst his workmates, and along with that, the one most talked about. Harry counted the majority of them as friends but knew very well all were dying for information about Draco. Harry kept a fake smile plastered across his face as he made his way across the floor to his workspace. He'd never talked about Draco to his co-workers, but today in particular was a day he wanted to avoid contact with the others.
It was one month since Draco had walked into Animus, straight into the office of his would-be murderer Lucia Hevelle. One month since he'd survived the murder attempt but instead lost all memory of his relationship with Harry, of the fate of his parents, of everything beyond the first month of fifth year. One month that had seemed like a veritable eternity for Harry. He hated Lucia Hevelle, hated her passionately for what she had done to his boyfriend, despised her even further in the knowledge that she had planned on much worse. The thought of Draco murdered...
Harry shuddered inwardly as he took a seat at his desk. Thinking that way wasn't helpful at all.
On his desk, sitting directly above everything else, waited a bright purple Ministry of Magic memo, stamped with the silver badge of the Ministry and addressed to him. Cautiously, Harry picked it up and unfolded it.
Mr Potter, it read.
The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement requests your presence at a discussion regarding Department Incident number 10620082009. Kindly respond without delay with a time today that will be convenient for you, as this matter is urgent.
Signed,
Secretary to Augustus Ridgeworth, Delia Hectorius
Harry blinked, skimming over the brief message once more. There was of course only one thing that would require an interview between him and the LE Department head himself. Harry retrieved a fresh sheet of the enchanted parchment which departments used for these memos and quickly composed a response indicating he was on his way at that very moment. After watching the memo zoom off towards the lift, Harry hurriedly checked his appearance and straightened his robes before following in its wake.
--
Augustus Ridgeworth, being the important Ministry figure that he was, kept decidedly nice digs. His office was preceded by a foyer in which Harry found who he presumed must be Ridgeworth's secretary, Delia. She was hurrying out of a pair of double doors which closed swiftly behind her. Seeing Harry, she crossed the foyer to a large mahogany desk against the opposing wall, sat down and smiled at him.
"Mr Potter," she greeted. "My apologies, as delighted as the Head is with your prompt response I'm afraid I must request on his behalf that you wait for a few moments for him to get ready." She waved an elegant hand towards several plush looking chairs and a table covered in magazines. "I'll inform you once the Head is ready."
Ready for what, Harry wondered, but he smiled and thanked Delia before taking a seat in one of the indicated chairs. While he waited he idly glanced over the magazines, and saw that nearly every single one had a headline on its front cover that was to do with Draco, himself, or both of them.
Several minutes passed before Delia waved him over. "Mr Potter, the Head will see you now," she announced, pointing him towards the double doors she'd entered the foyer through. Thanking her again Harry headed towards them, pulling on the finely wrought handle and stepping into Ridgeworth's office.
It was a handsome room, filled with the same mahogany furniture as Delia's desk and lined with exotic looking rugs. A large desk dominated the room and seated behind this was Ridgeworth. He stood when Harry entered the room and offered a large, dark-skinned hand.
"Mr Potter, I thank you for coming to see me so quickly," he said, his dark eyes gleaming at Harry.
"My pleasure," Harry replied, shaking the hand and then taking a seat in one of two chairs that were arranged in front of the desk. Ridgeworth sat back down as well.
"So, I'm sure you're wondering why I wished to see you," he said genially.
"About Department Incident number 10620082009, which I assume is referring to my boyfriend's near death at the hands of a madwoman," Harry shot back, feeling suddenly irritated with all the pomp and carryon. "I've heard through the grapevine that you've taken on the case."
Ridgeworth's demeanour changed immediately, to one Harry would describe as fawning. "Of course, Mr Potter, a crime as great as the one committed against Draco Malfoy wouldn't do without the special attention of the Head of Department himself in order to ensure justice is served." He leaned forward slightly. "That's the reason why I asked you here, Mr Potter. As one who was very nearly left bereaved by Lucia Hevelle's actions, I felt it my duty to ensure you were the first to be informed."
"Of what?" Harry asked curtly.
"A date has been set for Miss Hevelle's trial," Ridgeworth declared. "It will be announced in the Prophet tomorrow morning, of course, but I wanted you to know first."
Harry leaned forward himself now. "When?"
"Two weeks from today," Ridgeworth said. "July 15th."
An eerie calmness settled over Harry. Two weeks. One fortnight until justice was administered for what had been done to his Draco. Still, it seemed slightly rushed, and he said as such.
"You don't understand my position, Mr Potter," Ridgeworth said gravely in response. "Every day, even one month on, I am still inundated with demands from the wizarding public for action against Miss Hevelle. I receive mail from beyond the borders of Great Britain even. Witches and wizards everywhere are baying for the blood of the woman who meant to kill one of the heroes of the Great War, the Boy-Who-Lived's acknowledged partner besides. I have conducted a thorough investigation and based on evidence I have collected, the Wizengamot are just as eager to proceed to trial." He arched an eyebrow at Harry. "Unless you would rather longer delays?"
"No no," Harry said quickly, "it just seems...unusual. But I'm not objecting in the slightest."
"Very good, then." Ridgeworth sat back into his chair. "Now I know that Mr Malfoy, thanks to his injuries from the attempted murder, will in fact be unable to testify against Miss Hevelle, but I still wish to formally exchange an invitation to both of you to be present at the trial in two weeks time. I would understand, of course, if attending will be too difficult for you."
Harry didn't hesitate. "We'll be there," he said firmly. Thinking of Draco's outrage the Saturday before over the discovery his 'accident' had been an attempted murder, he knew that Draco would want to be at the trial. He himself was already looking forward to seeing something being done against the woman who could have very easily murdered his boyfriend. "We'll definitely be there."
"Excellent!" Ridgeworth beamed. "I believe that is all of note I wished to discuss with you. Oh and by the way, I do apologise for the...clinical tone of the memo that was sent to you. I never intended to offend you in any way, Mr Potter."
Harry inclined his head. "Thank you."
"I will advise you to keep posted to the Prophet for information pertaining to the trial as the date approaches. Miss Hevelle herself will not be informed of the setting of a date for the trial until tomorrow morning."
Harry inclined his head again, feeling hatred surge in his gut at the mention of her name. He hadn't felt loathing like this since the days of Voldemort. "Thank you, Ridgeworth, I appreciate it." He stood as Ridgeworth stood and shook hands again, and was halfway to the door back to the foyer when Ridgeworth spoke again.
"Oh, and Mr Potter?"
Harry turned back around.
"If I may be so bold..." Ridgeworth seemed suddenly hesitant, "May I enquire as to the health and wellbeing of Mr Malfoy? I read about his appearance in public at St Mungo's on Sunday, and..."
"He's fine," Harry said tersely. "As fine as he could be expected to be, in any case."
Ridgeworth nodded slowly, his dark eyes furrowed into an expression of sympathy. "Naturally," he said. "Good day to you, Mr Potter."
"Good day, Ridgeworth."
--
Draco was, of course, not fine, but the truth would have been too complicated to explain to Ridgeworth. Back at the apartment, Draco had just started his day of Astronomy and Arithmacy with Pansy, and already the blonde was driving Pansy up the wall. He was fidgety, distracted, and snappy whenever Pansy managed to engage him in what they were doing. She was trying to go over the answers to the long-answer questions she'd left for him to complete the week before, but it just wasn't happening.
"So in this bit here, see, the answer is actually..." Pansy glanced up at her friend to see him staring blankly at the kitchen door, not paying the slightest bit of attention to her. Heaving a sigh, she reached over and forcibly grabbed and pulled Draco's head to face towards her.
"Pansy!" Draco yelled, wrenching away and glaring daggers at her.
"Draco," she retorted. Cracking her knuckles, she leaned back and looked at him expectantly. "Come now darling, out with it."
"With what?" Draco said sullenly, his gaze sliding away.
"You know very well what. Whatever's making you behave like a restless child."
Draco drew himself up, managing to somehow look haughty and miserable at the same time. "I've just found out not five days ago that my mother was tortured into insanity by a lackey of the man that I would have gladly followed my father into the service of was I still fifteen, Pansy."
Pansy's expression softened, and she exhaled slowly. "I know, Draco," she said quietly. "But there's something else bothering you, I can tell."
Draco's face twisted as though he was tasting something highly unpleasant. Pansy waited patiently, and sure enough, Draco eventually 'fessed up. "It's Potter," he said grudgingly.
"What about him?" Pansy didn't really approve of Draco living with Potter after he'd found out about his mother – she believed Draco needed someone who could handle him better, who knew everything about what he'd been like when he'd first found out about his mother. Pansy Parkinson, namely.
"He's been..." Draco trailed off, looking mortified, before finally muttering "...nice," as though the word itself was abominable to him.
Pansy arched an eyebrow. "Nice in what way?"
"Just...nice. It's not like I've been crying into his shoulder or anything, but after I found out he agreed to come with me to see her, and..."
"Wait a minute, back up," Pansy interrupted. "You went to see her? When?"
"Sunday."
Smooth move, Potter, Pansy thought furiously. Draco had reacted badly enough to seeing his mother some two years after the torture, and here Potter had taken him to see her one day after finding out the same bit of information?
"I'll kill him," she said aloud through gritted teeth. "He is a dead man."
"What?" alarmed, Draco waved his hands. "No, no, don't blame Potter. I wanted to see her. I asked him to come with me. He was almost more reluctant than I was."
Pansy snorted disbelievingly, but Draco seemed earnest now. "No, really. I probably saw her earlier than I should have, and that's for me to deal with, but don't go blaming Potter."
"Why, because he's been so nice?" Pansy said sarcastically.
"Well..." Draco looked mortified again, and he closed his eyes and murmured, "...yes."
Pansy was bemused by this behaviour, even more so when Draco rushed on, "Like I said, he hasn't been...I mean, it's not like...he's just really supportive. Granger said he would be, and the last two days, she's been right."
"You took advice from Granger?" Pansy said, baffled. "Merlin, it took years last time for you to come to any kind of understanding with Weasley, let alone Granger of all people. Since when do you take advice from Granger?"
"That's just it!" Draco said, frustrated. "Last time this and last time that. I know that this whole thing with my mother was what brought me over to the goody goody side last time, and that last time it was what helped me become such extremely good friends with Potter. But it...I mean...it doesn't HAVE to turn out like last time, does it?" he pleaded. "Yes, Potter is ridiculously supportive, and a wonderful friend to everyone he cares about, like everyone keeps emphasising to me that he does, and he's great at helping to take my mind off things coz he can be funny when he wants to be..."
"And he's nice?" Pansy supplied helpfully.
"Exactly," Draco hissed.
Pansy looked carefully at her friend, the glinting eyes, the raised colour in his cheeks, and nearly wanted to laugh. Draco and Potter just clearly couldn't help themselves, could they? No matter what happened between them, even if one of them had had his entire memory of their relationship erased, they just got drawn back together, like magnets. Oh, Draco wasn't aware of it yet, she mused, didn't realise the inevitable slide he'd stepped back onto. The point was, and Pansy could admit it readily enough, Draco and Potter were so right together. And Potter had never excelled at anything more than being a wonderful boyfriend to Draco. Hell, in general, and it was galling to admit, Potter was a wonderful person. Brave, loyal, supportive, loving...everything Draco needed.
And by the looks of things, this knowledge was just starting to dawn on Draco, just the same as it had back in fifth year when the boys had slowly fallen in love.
These realisations took only the space of a few seconds to occur. Smiling, Pansy said pleasantly, "Draco darling, is it really that bad if you become friends with Potter?"
Draco sputtered. "I...you don't...it's not right, Pansy!" he said emphatically. "Not everything has to be the same as last time. And a nice Potter, is, is...it's disconcerting is what it is!"
Pansy continued to smile. "But last time, when Potter was being nice to you, it was the happiest I'd ever seen you."
"So?" Draco shot back. "Maybe I'm completely different to that Draco, maybe this whole thing was a blessing in disguise and it's my chance to change my life and become who I should've been, without the presence of Potter."
Pansy's genial mood evaporated in an instant, leaning forward with a dangerous glint in her eye. "What happened could never be described as a blessing in disguise," she near growled. "That 'whole thing' nearly killed you and took my best friend from me, repressed and eliminated the person you spent four years becoming, devastated your friends, and yes that does include Potter. You do have a chance to start over, sure, but believe me when I say Draco that you'd be stupid to remove Potter from your life. You need each other."
Draco glared at her and then looked away, muttering something.
"What was that?"
"Granger said that exact same thing," Draco murmured. "That we need each other."
Pansy laughed aloud despite herself. "Never thought I'd see the day when Granger and I would agree on anything." Sobering, she looked seriously at her best friend. "Really, Draco, I know part of you still sees Potter as your arch rival or whatever, but don't be so boring. You're nineteen, not fifteen, and you're not in rival houses at school, you're living together. Grow up, for Merlin's sakes, and if Potter being so nice to you freaks you out, get over it. You have a lot of healing to do, and Merlin knows Potter helped you heal last time, and that he can help you again."
Draco was quiet for several moments, seeming to absorb what she said, before he raised his head. Pansy was relieved to see some of the spark back in his eyes. "Thanks Pans," he said, almost too softly to be heard. A few seconds of comfortable silence passed before Draco cleared his throat and leaned forwards. "Alright then," he drawled loudly, "show me where I apparently went so wrong with my answers."
He still had a lot to go through and a lot to deal with, thought Pansy, but it was gratifying to see at least some of the old Draco in the boy sitting across from her.
--
When Harry arrived home to the apartment that night, he found Draco doing his, for lack of a better word, schoolwork in the lounge room. Harry paused on the threshold of the room and watched the blonde intently pouring over a complicated looking number chart. Since their conversations on Monday Harry had been startled to find Draco opening up, of sorts, to him. He suspected the work of Hermione behind the slight change in attitude but that didn't mean he wasn't grateful for it.
They'd had a few good talks, nothing earth-shattering in terms of the redevelopment of the bond that had been so deep between them before Animus, but certainly remarkable considering how withdrawn and icy Draco had been on Sunday afternoon. Draco had haltingly spoken of his mother, mostly the way he remembered her and his difficulty in reconciling his own mental images of her with the woman she'd become in the hospital ward. Harry had simply listened, sensing it was an important part of the grieving process for Draco to just be able to talk.
There was just one thing that bothered him, though. There had been times during these discussions, when they'd been at the table or on the lounge or whatever, and Draco would be getting very sombre and in-depth with what he was talking about...and then Harry would do something, like unthinkingly touch Draco's arm in sympathy, or their eyes would meet and hold for one moment too long, and suddenly a barrier would get thrown up between them. Harry could feel Draco pulling away, withdrawing, freaking out.
Harry thought he knew why that was happening. It was hard for Draco to reconcile the fifteen year old hated rival with a nineteen year old friend. Hurt as much as it did to admit, Harry suspected Draco was resisting the notion of becoming friends again, the way he'd heard they had become friends back in fifth year. Harry knew Draco too well not to deduce that Draco's stubbornness was pushing him to actively oppose being too chummy when things got too deep for him.
"Hey Draco," Harry greeted the blonde as nonchalantly as he could, stepping into the lounge room as though he'd just arrived. "Did you have a good day?"
There was another development since the weekend, again not earth shattering but substantial enough – Harry had fallen back into the habit of calling Draco by his first name, dropping the surnames-only act that had become so tiresome. And in turn, Draco had developed a habit of not trying to revert things back to being exclusively on a surname basis. Harry was still 'Potter' to Draco, but he no longer maintained that Harry should only call him 'Malfoy.' So there was that, at least.
Draco made a little distracted noise in his throat, a noise Harry correctly interpreted to mean he was concentrating. Harry sauntered further into the room and flopped onto one of the smaller lounge seats nearby the main lounge. "I had an interesting day," he continued genially. "I found out the date of Lucia Hevelle's trial."
"That's nice, Potter," Draco muttered, now scribbling something on a sheet of parchment. Seconds later he froze before his head snapped up, eyes now alert and focusing entirely on Harry. "Wait, what did you say?"
"July 15th," Harry said solemnly, knowing the issue was very important. "Two weeks from today. Lucia Hevelle's trial. And the Head of Department himself asked if we would like to be present."
"And what did you say?" Draco demanded.
"I accepted, of course." A hard glint entered Harry's green eyes. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."
Seeing the suddenly anxious expression on Draco's face, Harry hastened to add, "You won't be required to testify. Ridgeworth is one of the few people wholly aware of your...condition, and wouldn't dare put such strain on you. We'd just be there to watch."
Draco's face darkened, Harry easily recognising the desire for revenge etched across his features. "Good," he said simply. "That's all I want to do. Watch the bitch who tried to kill me get convicted." His eyes sharpened and focused suddenly on Harry. "What do you think the sentence will be?"
Harry thought seriously for a few moments. "I'm not sure. An actual murder, a particularly heinous one at that, gets the Dementor's Kiss, but as it's an attempted murder..." he chewed his lip thoughtfully. "I'd happily see her burn like back in the old witch-hunting days for what she did to you, but the Wizengamot won't be as biased as me. She'll probably get life-imprisonment."
There Potter went again, Draco thought as his stomach blazed with warmth from the words, showcasing his Gryffindor fire and conviction in defence of the people he cared about. Much as he still found it hard to believe, he was amongst that number of people now, one of the ones Potter defended and cared about and...loved, (like a friend, he mentally reminded himself from Granger's words, like a friend,) rather than one of the people Potter defended people against. It was just so strange, this upside-down world he'd stepped into. Strange, but somehow...pleasant. Comforting. It was somewhat soothing having Potter with him instead of against him. Helping him rather than fighting against him. Caring about him rather than...not caring about him.
Harry was glancing at his watch now. "I better get dinner started, I think," he said, and hopped to his feet. "I'll call you in when it's ready." He peeked at the number chart spread out on the coffee table. "Arithmancy coming along okay?" he asked vaguely.
Draco slid an amused, disparaging look upwards through his eyelashes. "Don't even try to feign an interest in what you don't understand, Potter," he drawled teasingly.
Harry laughed freely, feeling ridiculously buoyed by the exchange. "I still know more than you, Draco," he said in a sing-song voice over his shoulder as he left the room.
--
Half an hour later in the middle of dinner, Harry was silently watching Draco multi task, reading an Astronomy textbook as he ate dinner. Draco's coping method of throwing himself into schoolwork was still in full force, but there were some things where you had to draw the line. Harry knew that the next day, Thursday, was a day Draco was meant to have off from tutelage, and it was with this thought in mind that Harry cleared his throat.
"Draco?"
"Mmm?" Draco murmured back, his eyes on the textbook as he twisted spaghetti round and round on his fork.
Harry reached over and tugged the textbook away. Draco emitted an indignant yelp, reaching to grab it back but just too late to quite reach it.
"Potter!" he said angrily. "Give me back my textbook!"
"I have a proposition," Harry went on calmly as those nothing had happened. "See, I've been thinking...I think we need a break."
Draco merely raised an eyebrow, and Harry ploughed on. "Everything has been worry and anxiety and pain since...since...well, you know."
"Since Lucia Hevelle attempted to shuffle me off the mortal coil?" Draco supplied dryly.
"Well...yeah, something like that. The point is, you've been dealing with a lot of big issues and serious problems, and going through so much and focusing all on your schoolwork, and I think we just need a break."
Draco continued to merely stare at him, and suddenly Harry was feeling very stupid. "It's just a thought," he mumbled. "I mean, I just thought that tomorrow's your rest day from tutoring, and I could take the day off work, and maybe we could do something...fun."
Lame lame lame, Harry berated himself silently.
"Fun," Draco echoed.
"Yeah...fun. Whatever you want to do. Wherever you want to go. We can wear glamours to avoid getting mobbed by the Prophet if you want to go out, or we could stay here and...I dunno, play Exploding Snap or Wizards Chess, or..."
"Great Merlin, Potter, you still consider Exploding Snap to be fun?" Draco goaded, laughing. "I got bored of that inane activity by third year."
"Forget it," Harry muttered, now thoroughly humiliated, his cheeks burning. "It was just a thought."
Draco watched Harry turn back to his dinner, cheeks tinted dark red, the whole embarrassment thing going down very well with his tanned skin and vivid eyes, and felt his stomach twist uncomfortably. Potter, stupid git he was sometimes, was only trying to maintain the whole 'nice' thing he had going on and in truth, the thought of spending a day of fun with Harry had started ringing alarm bells about friendship and togetherness and bonding.
Ah, to hell with it, Draco decided, and reached across to lightly touch Harry's shoulder. "Potter?"
"What?" Harry muttered, refusing to meet Draco's gaze.
"I'm..." and here Draco gritted his teeth, "I'm sorry for being a git just now. You're right, a break from things would be good."
Harry looked up immediately. "Did you just apologise to me?" he said, bewildered.
Now it was Draco's turn to be embarrassed. "Don't expect it to be a regular occurrence," he mumbled.
Harry blinked once, and then beamed. The sheer brightness of Harry's features when he was happy was somehow...disconcerting for Draco to look at, to take in the shining green eyes and smiling, soft mouth, and it was all he could do not to look away. "Well, great!" Harry said enthusiastically, hesitance gone. "What would you like to do?"
Draco silently mulled over several options before the perfect, albeit slight embarrassing, one occurred to him. "I've kind of been missing Hogsmeade," he admitted reluctantly.
Harry literally clapped his hands together in happiness, his eyes sparkling. "Hogsmeade it is then!" he said. "We'll apparate there tomorrow morning and then spend the whole day there."
"Unless you don't want to," Draco said hastily.
Harry's face, lit with excitement, settled into a serious expression as he reached across the table to rest a hand lightly on Draco's pale arm. "Of course I want to," he said sincerely. "Anything for you, whatever you want to do."
They stayed like that for a moment, Harry's hand on Draco's arm and his eyes just dripping with his sincerity, Draco frozen like a deer in headlights under the warmth of that gaze and the heat of Harry's slightly calloused palm on his skin.
Harry smiled and squeezed lightly before hopping up and taking his plate to the kitchen bench. "I'll go Owl my superior now and get the time off," he said with a grin, setting the plate down and then heading towards the kitchen door. "Reheat your dinner if it's gone cold."
Draco was left alone with his now cooled bowl of pasta, the warm imprint of Harry's skin on his arm and a hot, churning feeling in his stomach at the thought of tomorrow.
TBC
AN: I've been remarkably out of character and have actually planned exactly what will happen in the next chapter. Not only that, the first part of it is already written, because it was originally part of this chapter. Oh happy day! As for what will happen...well, let's just say I think my dear reviewers will rather enjoy chapter 11 ;)
Aaaand, I have figured out the ending to this story. I just need to come up with the all the other stuff in the middle that will need to happen in order to reach that ending. Gah.
Please review! It will only incite me to deliver what's going to happen in Hogsmeade to you all. In the words of the Chemical Brothers, 'Push the button...'
Until next time,
bleedingxheart