A/N: Over a month without updating…how much you all must love me xD My apologies! I have had exams and a skiing holiday and a lot of work to get done D: As always, I claim nothing! The song is based on the original poem by J.R.R. Tolkein and used in The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey, the characters etc etc are all Rowlings' blah blah blah ya-da-ya-da-ya. Enjoy
The first ten minutes were spent in a tense, awkward silence. Half the Weasleys glared at him, whilst the other half either avoided his gaze or ignored him completely, holding a conversation with the Grangers. Draco half listened in but couldn't follow –what the hell was a rubber duck? Harry sat on the same two-seater with him, their arms touching, and Draco was glad for the support.
"Shall I make some tea Mrs Weasley?" Harry offered when it became unbearable.
"That would be lovely dear, thank you." She said.
"I'll help, shall I?" Draco said, leaping up off the sofa and following the only friendly one there through to the tiny kitchen. When he was sure they were out of earshot he let out a huge sigh and rubbed his eyes, leaning against a counter. "Merlin's beard Potter I didn't think it would be this awful."
Harry didn't reply and Draco opened his eyes to see him with his back to him, jaw set.
"What have I done?" He asked, genuinely unsure. Harry slammed the pot of tea down onto a tray and turned around. His emerald eyes were blazing and Draco felt a flicker of something similar to fear.
"What have you done?" Potter repeated his words in a dangerous tone. "Do you not recall last summer? Do you not remember the rumours you spread about a perfectly decent family?" Draco paled and his insides began to freeze, one by one. Potter took a menacing step closer. "Do you not remember what you said? Those vile, vicious and hateful words you sold to the press? Of course the wizarding world trusts poor little Draco Malfoy, victim of the Weasleys, so no one questions it. But we do Malfoy. We fucking do because we know the fucking truth and you; you have no idea do you?"
The other room had gone silent but neither boy noticed. Draco began to shake very slightly, and clenched his hands on the side behind him until his knuckles went white. He remembered, of course he did. He just didn't want to. He'd contradicted his own tales by falling onto their floor covered in soot and he'd proven himself and his family wrong by seeing the shabby, tumbling down house for himself.
"Well Malfoy?" Harry said, now only inches away from him. Draco could feel the black hair tickling his forehead and the green eyes bore into his own grey ones. The face in front of him held an expression of such distaste he wondered how he hadn't yet been thrown out of the house. He took a shaky breath.
"Of course I remember." His voice was small and pitiful, betraying just how he felt. "I remember every word of it and if you think I don't regret each letter of it then you don't deserve to have a brain." He said, voice trembling with supressed emotion.
Potter looked taken aback and Draco pressed his advantage, leaning even closer.
"I cannot explain my actions nor can I justify them, but I can apologise, and I can make amends. The entire Weasley clan seem to hate me. Even Weasley –the one in our year- seemed to be getting used to me at school, but here in front of family he cowers behind his rage."
"And that's not at all what you did is it?" Potter said sarcastically. Draco narrowed his eyes.
"Of course that's what I did. You have no idea what it's like-" he broke off as his voice cracked. He took a moment then began again. "You have no idea how hard it is living in my house,"
Potter gave a harsh laugh. "I could say the same to you Malfoy." He retorted.
"What? You get whatever you want, muggles to wait on your every command and all the space you want."
Potter looked like he was about to burst out laughing as he took a couple of steps back. "You know nothing Draco Malfoy. I live with my abusive Uncle, Aunt and cousin. I slept in a cupboard under some stairs for eleven years; I was made to do the cooking, cleaning, gardening and every little chore around the house. I was given my cousin's old clothes to wear –before my Hogwarts uniform I'd never had an item of clothing I could truly claim as my own.
"I was kept out of sight of guests and my birthday was forgotten every year. Before Hagrid I'd never had a friend or a father figure. I'd never had money or even hope before he came to collect me from that god-forsaken rock. I had a dark lord kill my parents when I was a baby and I've never even heard their voices. The only memory I have of my parents is them dying, which I relive every time a dementor comes near me, and yet you had the nerve to dress up as one in our third year." He paused and took a shaky breath.
"I never had a mother! Or a father or siblings or even decent family. I was locked in my room when the Dursleys thought I'd done something wrong and when I was twelve they fitted bars to my bedroom window to stop me going back to Hogwarts. I've watched Voldemort's return and fought him more times than I care to think about. I saw Pettigrew kill Cedric and I watched him kill a Death Eater at the same time that you did two days ago. I watched my god-father die –my dad's best friend and one of mine.
"So don't you dare say I've had it easy."
Draco stood staring in open-mouthed shock. He felt a deep sense of pity for the scrawny, underfed boy in front of him. He now realised Potter wasn't just naturally lean as he was, he was genuinely skinny –he'd never really had enough. He compared what he'd just learnt to his own childhood.
Thanks to Potter he'd had a relatively free one. Free from the Dark Lord and free from the threats he brought with him. Free from hard work and full of games with his parents. He'd had everything he'd needed and more on top of that. He'd had plenty of food, toys, time, and friends. He'd been a leader from the moment he'd met the children in the area. He'd had house-elves wait upon him whenever he wanted and he'd been spoilt.
It was only the most recent years that his life had been ripped away from him. His house was now dark and dingy, cold and unwelcoming. It had empty spaces and spaces he was no longer allowed to go in. It creaked at night and it was never warm. The fires held none of the comfort they had when he was little –now they seemed to burn with a life of their own, cruel and unforgiving.
And when the Dark Lord himself came to visit it was worse than ever. Fear followed him like a shadow, and death crept both ahead and behind him. His mere presence was enough to make your skin crawl and your stomach turn. More than once Draco had been sick when He had passed by his room. There was an air of dread and cold cruelty surrounding him.
But worst of all had to be the cold, high voice and the snake-like features that were his face, the features twisted into a cruel smile more often than not. So pale he seemed to glow, a mere memory of him made Draco shiver.
He came out of his reverie to see Potter staring at him frowning slightly, almost appearing worried.
"I don't think I'll ever understand your mood-swings Potty." He muttered. Harry rolled his eyes.
"This is not over. But I have an idea I'd like to try, so come on." He thrust a tray of cups, biscuits and sugar into Draco's hands and they went back through to the living room, where a lively conversation about Charlie's work in Romania was taking place. The laughter at one of Charlie's impressions of his co-workers died down as Draco was spotted.
They carefully set down the tea on a cluttered table and Harry made his way over to Granger. He murmured something to her and she grinned. She nodded and pulled her wand out of her pocket. Draco frowned in confusion as she pointed it at a lamp. With a muttered incantation a simple piano stood in its place and Draco's fingers twitched.
It was plain and wooden, as appose to his huge grand back home, but it was music, and it would calm him down. He felt someone push him lightly towards it and smiled gratefully back at Harry, who was smiling gently. He sat down without embellishment and ran through a couple of scales to get used to the keys.
He grinned and struck the chords to the duet he and Potter were working on. He glanced up at the raven-haired boy and winked. He got an unamused look back, but the boy seemed unable to stop himself from singing. He came in on time and together they finished it without a note out of place.
The Weasleys were looking between the two in some confusion, but Granger was smiling. Draco moved on without a beat's rest to a solo piano piece and ended five minutes later with most of the Weasleys smiling, lost in their own thoughts. He let the last notes fade and smiled.
He felt infinitely more relaxed than he had done for days, despite present company, and the atmosphere in the room was no longer overly hostile. As the chord faded to oblivion Mrs Weasley started clapping. She stopped quite quickly when she realised she was the only one doing so but at least no one was glaring daggers at the Slytherin anymore. He cleared his throat and stood up.
He'd been thinking as he played; trying to compose a speech to formally apologise and ask for their help. He knew it was a tall order and he doubted he'd ever have their full trust, and the idea of friendship was ludicrous. But he could ask for a truce. Mrs Weasley had already said he could stay for Christmas, but he had to be sure, and try and remove some of the tension between them all and him.
"I know I have done this family great wrongs. I've never made it easy for you and I've used by high standing in society to make your life difficult. Not always intentionally, but that's the thing; sometimes it was. I know I've baited and taunted you all and last summer I did the worst I've ever done.
"All I can say is you have my deepest apologies. I saw as soon as I stepped out of your bathroom –calmer and more aware than when I arrived – that I was completely wrong. Not a single word of what I said last summer was true and I cannot tell you how much I regret it. If I could go back and change it all I swear to you I would."
Mr Weasley stood up, and Draco tensed. "I cannot speak for my whole family, but I can say I know what it's like to be under pressure. I do not think those rumours you spread were made by you; rather you were the poster boy. I don't however, forgive you." Draco's shoulders slumped and he looked at the Weasleys with miserable acceptance.
"Although," Mrs Weasley said, joining her husband. "We are not ones to turn out a boy in need of help." The older Weasley children all began to protest but once again she silenced them. "I can see that Harry at least has partly forgiven you, and I am willing to give you a chance. But you will have to change. No more of this laying about waiting for someone to bring you things; you stay here, you help out." She said sternly.
Draco couldn't stop himself smiling. "Thank you." He said simply, and she nodded.
"Now come sit down as we wait for the pudding to cool enough to eat," she said, ushering him back over to the sofa where Harry was sat.
There was still a layer of unease slotted beneath the atmosphere, but it was ignored and it gradually faded into the background. Over the rest of the evening they talked and laughed, and whilst Draco was not a huge part, he still joined in every now and again. For the most part he let them have a family time, sitting quietly next to Harry, legs curled up beneath him.
It was an entirely new experience for Draco. His Christmases were usually small affairs with just his parents; their family were not the cheeriest lot out there. Whenever Aunt Bella came round they spent the time discussing dark arts and powerful magic, not laughing and telling jokes and stories.
He felt his prejudice against the red-headed family dwindle throughout the day as he got to know them. He was properly warm for the first time in days, and he had such a sense of home that he almost forgot that he didn't belong there.
The Grangers left late in the evening, sporting hats from crackers and Hermione even had a small bird from hers. They were waved out with cheery calls and tipsy goodbyes. Draco was grinning ear to ear as everyone sat back down together. It was a little more relaxed now; not as lively as the evening wound down.
Harry and Draco helped clear away, and Harry volunteered their services as dish-washers. He felt a spike of alarm; he'd never even considered that people had to wash the dishes. Potter snickered at his expression and he scowled at him.
"Come on ferret, I'll show you how to do it." He teased, grinning and leading him through to the kitchen with an armful of plates. He filled the sink with bubbles and water and dumped the plates, glasses and cutlery in it. He went through stage by stage of how to wash and fry dishes, as if talking to a child while Draco fought the urge to slap him, half in jest...He eventually just snatched a tea towel off the side.
"I'm not that stupid Potter. I'll dry if you wash." He said grumpily. Harry laughed but agreed. Draco was reminded of a song he'd overheard a muggle playing in Diagon Alley.
Blunt the knives, bend the forks,
Smash the bottles and burn the corks,
Chip the glasses and crack the plates,
That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!
"How the hell do you know that Malfoy?" Harry asked, pausing in the repetitive action of washing plates.
"Overheard it in Diagon Alley," he said simply with a shrug.
Cut the cloth and tread the fat!
Leave the bones on the bedroom mat!
Pour the milk on the pantry floor!
Splash the wine on every door!
Harry continued. They went on together.
Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl;
Pound them up with a thumping pole;
And when you've finished, if they are whole,
Send them down the hall to roll!That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!
"Don't you dare." Came a mock-stern voice from the doorway and they turned to see Mrs Weasley stood there with hands on hips. They laughed together, and Draco rather thought their laughs worked together in a wonderful harmony. She smiled warmly at the pair of them and a load of glasses floated from beside her into the sink. Harry grinned as Draco scowled, but they set to work merrily enough as Mrs Weasley left.
"You know, I don't think I'll ever understand you Draco." Harry stated as he passed another bowl across to him.
"Hm?" He said, not really paying attention.
"You seem to have so many possible reactions to the slightest things. First there's the person you are in front of the whole school; arrogant, snobbish, proud, dickhead, you know, all that sort of thing." Draco whipped the back of his head with a tea towel.
"I am no such thing, never say that again," he drawled and Harry laughed.
"Yes you are, and you know it. Then there's the Malfoy I met on the carriage back up to school the first night; the one I'd never met before.
"Then there's the Malfoy in practice, who is similar to carriage-Malfoy, but more open yet more haughty at the same time.
"Then there's the one who fell through the fireplace earlier." He stopped washing and looked straight at him. Draco felt his eyes pierce him, and it almost seemed as if Potter could see right inside him. It made him feel small and slightly uncomfortable.
"The one who's scared and alone; and those two are amongst the worst to go together. I think you're lonely and broken, but you refuse to admit this to anyone so you stay hidden and only show your true self when there's no one else around. You put on a mask for the public and it never really comes away, does it."
Draco couldn't look away; he was captivated by the scruffy boy in front of him. He couldn't speak. It was as if something was lodged in his throat and refused to move. He stood there silently for a minute, gazing into the green eyes. He looked away when he could no longer bear it.
"So which is the real you?" Harry asked.
"I don't know if there is a real me," he said quietly. "Or if there is he's too scared to come out in public."
Harry gave a small smile and turned back to washing up. His insides twisted as the lips twitched upwards and his legs felt a little weak.
"Maybe we can coax him out in the next few days."
"Are you sure the real him isn't the ferret?" Came Weasley's –Ron's – voice from the door. Draco's insides untwisted immediately and cooled down rapidly. He reddened as Harry laughed but he knew better than to retort, however tempting it may have been. Weasley came in and added the last of the bowls to the sunk before strolling out again grinning.
"Why does everyone insist upon bringing that up?" He grumbled.
"Because it was hilarious," Harry stated simply, still smiling. Draco hit him with the towel again, leaving soap suds in his hair. He laughed as the Gryffindor scowled and got rid of them.
They finished up and went back through to the living room, laughing at a joke Harry had just make. Someone threw something at him and he ducked, even as Harry reached out and caught it from the air with ease.
"And that is why I'm the better seeker," he said with a wink as Draco straightened up scowling.
"What even is it?" He looked at the object in the boy's hands.
"A bag of your things," Mr Weasley answered. "It arrived a minute ago without an explanation. Took us quite by surprise."
Draco took the bag from Harry anxiously, but smiled when he recognised the clothes he kept at Severus' house, including school uniform and robes. Dumbledore must have been in touch with him.
"It's from Severus, the clothes I usually keep at him." He explained. He was met by 10 baffled stares and explained he was Draco's god-father.
Draco spent the next week getting to know the Weasleys and trying to show them he wasn't all bad. They left the piano in the living room, taking up the little space that there had been, and every afternoon he took half an hour or so to play it. He worked with Harry a couple of times on the quintet but generally played alone.
At the end of the week Draco asked to go to Diagon Alley. The Weasleys agreed to take him, so long as they could modify his appearance. Grudgingly, he allowed them to morph his features into someone unrecognisable, and he was transformed into a ginger Weasley for the day. Harry laughed so hard he'd had to leave the room.
Needless to say, Draco Malfoy did not suit red hair. His nose was made less pointy and upturned, instead becoming long like Ron's. His chin was modified a little and his eyes were turned brown. He looked every inch like one of them, especially when he was given older robes, rather than his extremely recognisable designer velvet ones.
Once Mr and Mrs Weasley were satisfied he was well enough disguised, he stuffed his want and wallet into his pockets, tucked a strand of long ginger hair behind his ear and they apparated him and Harry to Diagon Alley.
Stepping out a side street the Gryffindor and he arranged a place and a time to re-meet Mr and Mrs Weasley (1:30 outside Ollivander's) and they headed off.
"So why did you actually want to come here?" Harry asked.
"To get the Weasleys a thank-you present." He stated without embellishment, avoiding Harry's amazed gaze.
"Ok…" He said. "What were you thinking?"
"That's why I brought you along, idiot," he said with an eye roll. "I've only really known them for a week; you however have known them for years." He stared at Harry as the latter thought of something they would like.
"You could always buy them an owl…" he suggested thoughtfully, still trying to think of more ideas. "Theirs is pathetic –he's really old and can't fly far. He's always crashing into windows and jugs and plates."
Draco grinned. It was perfect! "Yes! That'll do, come along Potty." He said, heading off towards the magical menagerie. Harry cuffed him on the back of his head but followed with a grin.
They spent close to an hour in the stuffy, smelly shot and Draco was almost dying by the time he finally decided on a suitable one. He got some owl treats too and a magnificent cage for her.
He'd picked a gorgeous tawny owl in the end. It was medium sized with flecks of white amongst the brown and strong wings. She was young and healthy and Draco was very pleased with his purchase.
They wandered through Diagon Alley together, chatting idly about school and homework. Harry had finished all his before the holidays, but Draco still had a pile to get through.
They visited various shops and stocked up on ink, quills, parchment and lunch before heading back to meet the elder Weasleys. They both complimented the owl, Draco not telling them until they returned that it was for them. When they did get back, Draco asked as politely as he could if everyone could gather in the living room –the biggest space in the house.
They did so with some confusion and he fidgeted nervously as they sat down. Harry sat on an arm of a sofa, less than a stride away and gave him an encouraging smile. His insides glowed and he smiled at the gathered people.
He stammered out some speech about how grateful he was for their help, and presented them with the owl. He was met with 8 (Percy having gone back home) open-mouthed looks of shock, and Harry grinning. He bit his lip and wondered if he'd made a mistake, when Ginny stood up. Of all the Weasleys she was the least he'd had to do with in the holidays. He could see her thinking 'why', but she didn't say that.
In fact she said nothing at all, but she walked right up to him and hugged him. Startled, but not displeased he hesitantly hugged her back. She let go with a smile and took the cage off him. She poked a finger through the bars and cooed softly. A smile broke out on every face, and they all gathered around the owl.
All of them thanked him too many times to count and he said "it's the least I could do, really" so many times he never wanted to hear the words again. He watched from the side-lines with Harry as they named her and let her get used to her new home, a smile haunting his lips.
He thought fondly of when he'd been bought his eagle owl; he was one of his best friends, as foolish as that sounds. He was always there for him and didn't judge him. He listened to his rants and left when he got bored. Draco found himself looking across at Harry, the fond smile still on his mouth. Harry looked up as he sensed the gaze and smiled falteringly back, looking rather confused.
Draco's insides twisted for the second time and he felt warm. He blushed very slightly and looked away. He got up and almost subconsciously went to the piano. He played a merry tune and then an old song that everyone in the wizarding world knew. The Weasleys all joined in whilst Harry sat smiling on the arm, drumming lightly on the sofa.
That night was the last he was to spend in the crowded house, and he was surprised to find himself regretful of it. He clambered into Percy's double bed (he assumed it was enlarged by magic, and it barely fit in the room) after brushing his teeth and packing all his things for the return to school. He curled up and fell asleep quickly.
He was having an extremely pleasant dream when he was startled awake by a quiet laugh near his ear.
"Having a good dream Malfoy?" Potter whispered innocently.
Draco went bright red, very glad for the cover of darkness and mentally checked himself over. He found nothing physical to give away his dream and sighed in relief, although too quietly for the other to hear.
"What are you doing in my room?" He hissed back. "And why would you ask?"
"Because you were muttering a name-" At this Draco felt his cheeks burn and hoped Harry was lying. Merlin that would be embarrassing. "And I'm here because I had a nightmare and Ron's probably not as happy to have me disturb him at two in the morning."
"What makes you think I'm happy to be woken at such an un-godly time?!" He whispered grumpilym half wishing he didn't sleep topless.
"Nothing, but it was you or Ginny, and I went for you. She has such a temper sometimes."
Draco thought he might be grinning, but wasn't sure. "Well what do you expect me to do?"
"I don't know…but I didn't want to be…" He seemed to choke on his words and Draco sighed. He shifted over to the wall and pulled up the covers.
"Get in, coward." He murmured. Harry purposefully kicked him as he climbed in. "Ow. And no cuddling – I'm not a Hufflepuff."
"No, you're a ferret," he whispered with glee, receiving a well-deserved poke in the back.
"Shut up. What was your nightmare about?"
"Do you really want to know?"
"Yes."
Twenty minutes later Draco found himself in the last place he would ever have thought possible. If you had told him a year ago he would be laid in Percy Weasley's bed with his arms wrapped around a silently sobbing Harry Potter he would have laughed and hexed you into tomorrow; however, that was just how he found himself the night before returning to Hogwarts.
He said nothing, but let the boy cry into his shoulder, slowly stroking his hair as his mother did for him when he was upset. He closed his eyes and rested his cheek against the soft mess of black hair. He smelled deliciously of shampoo and for a while he just breathed in the scent of Harry, not caring how weird it sounded –to be fair it was almost half two in the morning, he was hardly himself.
When the tears at last stopped, they sat in silence for a while, not even feeling that awkward. Harry's arms had wrapped around his waist at some point and his hands were clutching at his bare back. They didn't say anything for a while, both thinking about what Harry had just dreamt. It was worse than any nightmare Draco had ever had, and if he'd felt terror listening to it, it was nothing to how Harry must have felt trapped in it.
"Draco…"
"Hm?"
"Tell me about the Manor last week?"
He stiffened and tried to pull away, but Harry wouldn't let him, clinging tightly to him with his face still buried in his shoulder.
"I thought you said you saw it?"
"I did, but in my experience you have to talk about things before you can really move on. Otherwise it'll haunt you forever."
So Draco haltingly told of what had happened a week ago, and though he didn't cry, his voice caught in his throat more than once and his eyes misted over slightly. His insides filled with cold dread and his heart was heavy as he felt every beat of it against his ribs. This time it felt more like Harry held him as he listened, and they relived it together.
He finished the story and Harry stopped drawing circles on his back. It was surprisingly easy to talk about it; perhaps because they could not see each other so it seemed less personal. Or perhaps they had just reached a stage of trust where they were comfortable enough with each other to do so. Draco doubted he would ever know. It would surely all feel like a dream in the morning anyway.
Their heads were already resting on pillows, and they were both exhausted by this point. He closed his eyes, though in the darkness it made no difference, and slowly he became more and more ready to sleep again –the feelings that had stirred from reliving the horrible night faded and were replaced with warmth and comfort at having another in his arms.
"Harry?"
"Hm?" He sounded as sleepy as Draco felt.
"Thank you."
He felt a nod against his chest and they fell asleep soon after, each wrapped in the other's arms.