Having absolutely no control over a situation was not an unfamiliar concept for Draco Malfoy. He had had little control over his own life growing up and even less influence once the Dark Lord had returned to his full horrifying glory. Merlin preserve him, he couldn't even pick out his own clothes for the majority of his life. This being said, he had never imagined to lose control over a casual conversation with mere acquaintances as quickly, or as expertly, as he had to someone as innocent and as socially impaired as Luna Lovegood. With one little, seemingly innocuous, suggestion for him to talk about his dreams with Potter (something he had shared in confidence with her) coupled with her timely exit, Lovegood had taken all the power from him and left him in the hands of the irrationally emotional and stubborn Savior.
Lovegood: 1; Malfoy: 0
At least Harry wasn't even on the scoreboard.
Draco would feel sorry for Luna's obvious manipulation of Harry, except he wasn't at all, and he was too impressed by her mock-innocence which had fooled him, fooled them all. Luna was a danger.
Had she known her little scheme would work as well as it did? Here he was sitting in Harry's room witnessing the man pacing around like the maniac he was trying to apologize—to Draco. Of course he was. Harry couldn't have any idea Draco had taken advantage of his weakness to—to what? To engage in some much needed human contact. No, Harry was too busy feeling bad about having a panic attack and being a bloody human and not living up to being the perfect hero he thinks he should be. The whole thing made Draco inexplicably angry and tired.
The icing on the proverbial cake came when he had made the decision to ask Harry what the hell actually happened that night in the broom closet. He wanted to see it on Potter's face. See the truth in case he tried to hide it away, and he had been completely unprepared to have Harry look at him like that. The Gryffindor's feelings were painted so obviously on his face that Draco had to cull the urge to roll him into the bed and kiss him senseless. He would have to talk to Harry about the dangers of allowing people the ability to read him like a fucking book.
Then Blaise Zabini happened and the moment was wretched apart worse than an accidental splinching. Blaise's parting suggestion of locking the door gave Draco no doubt that he and Potter would be the subject of Hogwarts gossip in every corner of the castle within the next couple of hours. He groaned.
Harry jumped up from his precarious position on the post of his bed and looked around at everything but Draco. "Well, er," Harry started. "I've said my apology and I'll just go. It's about dinner time and—"
"Colloportus!" Draco shouted at the door just as Harry had placed a hand on the knob. He'd thank Blaise for the idea later. The noise of the door clanging and locking shut rendered it the second loudest sound in the room to Potter's half yelp. "Sit down, Potter."
"Right," Harry said and his shoulders drooped. He took a seat on the edge of Zabini's bed across the room.
As much as he would like it, there was no easy way Draco could see to get them back to the moment before. He supposed he could march over and test his hypothesis that, oh Merlin, Harry might have wanted to have him, but with each passing second he started to doubt it as very rational thoughts intruded insisting there was a chance he misread the situation. He would have to settle on getting to the bottom of his earlier question.
"One interruption and you think I'd forget the terms of accepting your apology?" Draco mustered as much of a sneer as possible. He narrowed his eyes. "You will tell me what happened that night."
Ah, there was the return glare. Harry's earlier passion vanished and was replaced by a heated stubbornness Draco had almost missed. Harry simply asked, "Why?"
"Why?" Draco snorted. "Well, if you expect me to continue to put myself on the line for you, I think I should at least know what sort of situations to avoid unless I want to end up caught or dead."
Harry drew in on himself transforming into a hunched up ball on the edge of Blaise's bed, and Draco thought he might get whiplash from witnessing these extreme emotional swings. This wasn't going how he expected.
"You're probably right," Harry said and let out a whisper of a sigh. "I can't believe…"
Draco waited and then rolled his eyes when an answer didn't seem forthcoming. "Look, Potter. I'm not going to tell anyone of your… thing. I really do need to know though. I—," he hesitated. Maybe the softer approach was necessary at this point. "I think what happened was you—you had some sort of memory, or conflict. And it overwhelmed you. And really, if we're going to be sneaking up on mysterious cloaked figures, I need to know this."
"…cupboard," Harry softly muttered from across the room.
"It was more of a storage closet," Draco said offhand and he was startled to see Harry wince as if Draco had struck him. Not my cupboard. That's what Harry had said in his panic, not his cupboard. What could be in a cupboard that would scare a person who defeated the Dark Lord? A boggart? Draco dismissed that idea quickly. They both knew how to banish a boggart, and the monsters often lived in furniture not inside small rooms. No, Harry had acted like he wanted to urgently get out. He had wanted light, wanted air, like he was trapped. Trapped in a cupboard.
Draco forced himself up on his feet and walked to Blaise's bed. He felt completely out of his depth. Harry looked up to him almost cowering. Where ever Potter was at this moment, it wasn't in this room with Draco. Summoning the desk chair over, Draco took a seat to be more or less at eye level with the other boy.
"You were in a cupboard," Draco guessed. "At some point you were and something happened?"
"Not just some point," Harry replied less quietly than before. A little of the fear receded and an angry blush bloomed on his cheeks. "Over half my bloody life."
Draco pinched the bridge of his nose trying to figure this out. "Why were you in a cupboard, Harry?"
It may have been the use of his first name that made Harry soften and keep talking. "It was my room. When I lived with the muggles, my aunt and uncle." Then he sat up a little bit straighter as if saying it out loud had broken some kind of spell.
"Why would you live in a cupboard? Did they not have enough rooms?" Draco asked, then he shook his head. "No, they had plenty of space didn't they? You said they hated you." The skin on his arms broke out into goosebumps and he gritted his teeth. The image of Lucius's cane came unbidden to him. Not the one that used to house his wand, the other one he kept in his sitting room next to the library. Draco had been sure to avoid being on the receiving end of that bamboo nightmare as much as possible when he was young. Even as an adult when he walked passed it his heart would speed up and he would be looking for Lucius to be sitting in front of the fire waiting… He had a feeling whatever it was, Harry had experienced something similar.
"Right, that's enough," Draco said and jumped up from the chair surprising Harry backwards. "Get your coat, come on." Strange dreams, evil teachers, cupboards, Lucius, the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice cowering... Draco didn't care for any of it right now. He needed to get out and so did Harry.
"What?" Harry asked struggling up to his feet. Draco cast a quick charm to straighten Zabini's bed and put the chair back in place. Last thing he needed was to piss off Blaise and give him more ammunition for what was bound to scintillating gossip. Draco's gloves and cloak were still down in the common room where Harry so inelegantly swept him from.
"Coat, Potter! We're going out."
"Harry…"
"Coat, Harry!" He unlocked the door and walked out of the room backwards to watch Harry scramble around for his coat and gloves.
The afternoon sun reflected blindingly bright yellows and oranges off the snow on the road to Hogsmeade. Harry had initially had to slightly jog to keep up with Draco's sure pace until the other slowed a fraction and they fell into step together. From the moment they left the room, neither of them had said anything. For Harry's credit, he was still coming down from telling Malfoy, of all people, about the cupboard. But the further they got from Hogwarts, the more curious Harry became of their destination. The Three Broomsticks? He could use a drink.
"Where are we going?" Harry asked and Draco, who looked to have been in deep thought, gave him a quick smile.
"You'll see," he said.
They forged on and the trip got easier once they came to the well-travelled cobblestone streets of the little village. Weaving between the main road and some of the smaller alleys, Harry recognized it as the path Draco had taken when Harry followed him before. After another five minutes, they ended up at a small, worn house near the far end of town. Draco marched past the gate straight for the door. When Harry tried the gate it whacked at his legs as if he weren't welcomed. He hopped it instead and could swear the iron growled at him.
"No need to upset the front garden, Harry," Draco drawled. The knocker on the door was in the shape of a cat with a monocle and a small top hat. Instead of using the knocker, the cat's collar and bell, Draco rubbed the snow off it.
"Who is it?" the cat asked in a low gruff voice.
"Malfoy."
"Malfoy and…?" The cat shot Harry a glare and Harry couldn't help look away as if he had been caught trespassing.
"Don't tell me you don't recognize Harry Potter, you paranoid Auror," Draco said without irritation. He seemed amused if the small smile on his face was anything to go by. He turned to address Harry. "We've just got to get something from Gretta and then we'll go."
The door opened to reveal the big brute of a man Harry had seen at the library. His greasy black hair was hidden under his black bandanna and his milky eye peered out at the both of them. He would look intimidating if it weren't for the purple and green apron tied around his waist and the traces of flour on his arms. Harry gave him a small wave in greeting.
"'Arry Potter, eh?" Gretta said. "Well, you lot come inside. I'll suppose this ain't a social visit, Draco?"
"Of course not," Draco sniffed but still smiled. "I just needed a travel slip and some funds."
"Where you think you're goin'?" Gretta slammed the door shut behind them. Harry shook off the cold and took a look around. The house smelled strongly of cats, but besides that, it seemed cozy enough. One wall was completely covered of pictures, and though it was too far away to be sure, it looked like a collection of Gretta with various young witches and wizards. He wondered if these were other wayward youths. Most of them sat in their frames smiling and waving, some stood sullen and grumpy, and a few didn't move at all.
"Ah well," Draco shot Harry a glance and then leaned over to whisper something to Gretta.
"What?! I can't let you go that far!"
If Harry hadn't been interested before, he was burning with curiosity now.
"You can if you put a time restriction of… let's say twelve hours? And if I have an adult escort," he replied pointedly. Harry wondered who the adult would be and voiced as much. Both men stopped talking and turned to face him with incredulous expressions. Harry felt like he was missing something obvious.
"He ain't even fully certified," grumbled Gretta. "Oi, 'Arry. 'Ow old are you?"
Harry jumped. "Nineteen, er, sir." Nineteen… oh.
"He gets it now," Draco mused and then scrubbed a hand over his face. "Do you think we run the risk of someone checking his brain and realizing he isn't mentally more capable than a first year?"
"Hey now—"
Gretta interrupted with a grunt. "You got class tomorrow, you miss and you're in trouble." He turned a fat finger on Harry. "You make sure he gets back on time, or I come for you, got that?"
Harry gulped and nodded. The other Aurors Harry had met after the war had not been nearly as intimidating as this man, and most of them considered Harry a hero and were much more polite in their conversation. The fact it wasn't assumed Harry was completely capable was a little comforting, even if Gretta came on a bit strong.
"All so you can show off to yer date," Gretta grumbled at Draco.
"Date?!" Draco said with an indignant cough and paled a little.
"Oh, I don't suppose he knew, sorry." Gretta waved a massive hand in the air dismissing it. "I'll give you your slip. 'Ow much Galleons you need?"
Draco closed his eyes and bit his bottom lip. Harry looked from him to Gretta and wished there was someone here who wouldn't insult him that he could ask what the hell was going on.
"Thirty galleons at least," he replied. Then he gave Harry a once over. "Make that fifty." Harry considered he should probably be offended at whatever thought Draco just had.
"Right, 'ere you go, now get off. If you get back after curfew you just 'ole up in town overnight. No use getting caught after dark. I'll write ye a note for that too."
Draco took the proffered parchment and a small black satchel of what had to be the money. He bowed slightly and said thanks before turning back to the door. Harry's mind was reeling.
"'Arry," Gretta growled. "You alright going with him? Probably should have asked that first."
Draco stopped with his hand on the door and didn't turn to face them. Harry thought he looked apprehensive. "Yeah, I trust him," he said. Draco's shoulders relaxed and he opened the door.
"Right, 'ave fun. Don't get in trouble."
With that they were back in the snow. Draco held the front gate open for Harry who hurried to catch up. The urge to ask again where they were headed was strong, but he didn't think Draco would tell him if he did, so he quietly allowed himself to be led back to the center of town. He wondered what Ron would say if he told him he willingly let Malfoy whisk him away to an unknown location after getting full legal permission from his Parole Auror and Harry himself. He imagined Ron might knock him out and drag him to Hermione for a checkup and intervention.
"I don't suppose you have your license to apparate, yet?" Draco asked.
"Er, no…"
"Never mind, probably for the best."
The next stop was in a room at the post that Harry had never been before: Travel and Currency Exchange. He watched as Draco filled out a form trying to read over his shoulder. "How many middle names do you have?"
"Four, but this only has space for three," Draco replied as if irritated the form could snub him of the honor of writing his full name. He started on filling out Harry's name.
"Well mine is—"
"James, yes, I know. It's like your famous enough to be on collectible cards, or something." Draco smirked and pulled the form closer to him to hide the specifics. Harry scowled at him.
"Is talking to you always going to be this irritating?" Harry huffed.
"I hope so," Draco said absently and rang the counter bell. Harry blushed.
A short fat wizard in tweed robes ambled to the counter and took the form without looking up. "Portkey?"
"Yes, roundtrip."
"Portkey?!" Harry squeaked.
"Calm down, Potter."
At the mention of Harry's last name, the little wizard look up in shock. He glanced back and forth from Harry who was leaning against the counter and the form in his hand as if he had just been hit by a stunning spell. Draco reached out and flicked the paper. "Mr. Potter would like his portkey as soon as possible," he said. Harry had to look away or risk laughing. "And he'd like these Galleons exchanged for Francons. Just take the difference for the portkey out."
"Yes, sir," the man replied with a short bow. "Mr. Potter, we'll have this ready in just a minute. Please have a seat!" The man squeaked and ran out the back holding onto Draco's money and the form. Draco stalked over to the chairs and sat down where two coffees and some biscuits had appeared on an end table.
"Your name carries weight," Malfoy said. "I don't think he even noticed who I am yet."
"Malfoy, why do we need a portkey?" Harry asked. He reached for a coffee and Draco swatted his hand away.
"Don't. We're getting something better if everything goes well. And really, I have to call you Harry but you can call me Malfoy? That's unfair."
"You're avoiding my question, Draco." Harry resigned himself to a seat and looked around at the office. Posters of wizards in exotic locations hung on the wall. One larger scene had a particularly nice looking Australian beach with warm sands and waves that crashed up on rocks occasionally sending down a spray of salt water. "This is a travel agency!"
"You are very astute. Is that what the muggles call them? Travel agencies?" Draco asked. Harry didn't get a chance to answer as the little wizard bumbled back through the door and Draco shot to his feet to meet him.
"Ah, Mr. Malfoy," the postmaster looked at Draco with some wariness that wasn't there before. He must have not had time to process Draco's name earlier, Harry realized. The man handed back over the money and then placed two items wrapped in black cloth on the counter. With his wand he unraveled the first, a small wooden carving of a goblin dressed as Father Christmas. Draco took the second, still carefully wrapped up, and put it in his front pocket. "The return portkey will send you to the fountain in Hogsmeade just outside the office. They both expire after twenty-four hours, so please be back before then, or you'll have to purchase a new one wherever you're located. Have a safe trip… gentlemen."
Harry was in the middle of saying thank you when Draco reached out and grabbed his hand and placed it on the portkey with his own. The unpleasantness came all at once and Harry screwed his eyes shut to block out the terrible whooshing and roaring of being dragged across a great distance. This was most definitely a mistake as Harry missed the moment he should have tried to avoid the ground coming at him at full force.
With a shaky hand, Harry pushed himself up and groaned as he watched Malfoy come down with a preternatural grace. "How do you do that?" he asked dusting himself off.
"How did you manage to fall that far down?" Draco returned. He looked like he was fighting back a laugh. No, now he was laughing.
"Ugh, whatever. Where are we? Do I get to know now?" Harry looked around. The sun was still in the sky so he guessed that was a good sign, and the weather was a bit warmer but not enough for him to want to take his coat off. Not too far off he could see the glitter of a large body of water that did a good impression of being a fucking ocean. What the hell? For miles there seemed to be nothing but low shrubs peeking through frost and snow with the occasional cottage and tree breaking the landscape. A large sandy stone wall ran the length of a dirt road they stood on and Draco leaned against it looking smug and amused.
"Normandy," he replied evenly.
"Normandy… France?!" Harry wheeled on him. "What are we doing in France?!"
"Getting coffee, obviously." Draco pulled out his wand and then frowned. "You're going to have to open the way. I'm not allowed to do magic outside of Hogwarts." He kicked an unsuspecting rock down the road.
This went a ways to calming down Harry. Watching Draco rely on Gretta for permission to travel and depending on Harry for magic made Harry uncomfortable. At Hogwarts he often altogether forgot Draco was on parole and had actual restrictions placed on his life. He could do this. He could be there for Draco if he needed. "Right, so," he drew his wand. "What do I need to do?"
"Like Diagon Alley. See that pillar? Tap it—you know what? This'll be easier." Draco placed his gloved hand over Harry's and guided the wand up and down the pillar in a delicate series of taps. Harry could feel Draco's magic warm, controlled, and holding back over top of his own. The wall folded in on itself and rolled outwards to form a large roman arch. Before Draco let go of his hand, Harry imagined he felt the tiniest bit of a squeeze.
The dirt road gave immediately away to an ancient looking street made of grey stone bricks which ended at small sidewalks and tall multicolored buildings of maroons, yellows, and blues. Nearly every window had flower boxes of herbs or small winter blossoms and every door was painted to either complement the building or to stand out distinctly from it. Ivy and moss grew along the wooden beams of the walls and enchanted Christmas candles and fairy lights hung around the greenery. The amount of color should have been garish but it all blended together well enough to create something foreign yet inviting.
The best part, Harry had belatedly noticed as they ventured into the hidden village, was the witches and wizards who walked by them without a second glance speaking for the most part in French. Unlike whenever he made a trip to Diagon Alley, there were no whispers, no pointing of fingers, no asking for autographs, and best of all, no cameras being directed at Harry. He could feel his posture become less rigid, and short of letting his scar show, he allowed himself to just be Harry.
He followed Draco who had traded his earlier urgency for a calm stroll around the winding cobbled paths. Occasionally he would stop as if trying to recall something and then reroute their path. Most of the signs were in French, but Harry could understand what the shops were well enough. An alchemist, judging by the cauldrons and herbs out front, a bakery, a Quidditch shop, a wand store with a surprisingly young staff compared to Mr. Ollivander. Draco seemed to know where he was going and for the moment Harry was content to let him lead the way. Draco, he noticed, looked as if he belonged here.
"You've been here before?" Harry asked.
Draco drew in a breath and hummed. "Long ago. This is Belfou. I used to come here every summer to visit the old Malfoy estates." Old Malfoy estates. Merlin, he probably owned half the town. "Never been here during the winter though. I hope it's still… yes, there!"
Down at the next bend of the road sat a small café shorter than the two buildings it was nestled between. A few patrons who seemed oblivious to the cold sat outside with small white cups and bits of pastry and sandwiches. The whole thing looked quite intimate and Harry suddenly thought of Gretta's parting words of this being a date.
"We really are getting coffee?" Harry asked. "Why couldn't we get coffee in Hogsmeade?"
"Do you know of a good place for coffee in Hogsmeade?" Draco shot back. Harry shrugged. He had never sought it outside the Great Hall. Draco pulled on his arm and led him into the café where a young witch in short robes and high boots seated them next to the window. Harry attempted to read the menu spelled on the wall but gave up after only recognizing a handful of words. Draco had taken off his coat and gloves so Harry copied him and looked around a little glad he wasn't the only one wearing something casual. "You can relax, Harry."
"I've never been outside the country before," Harry said. He slid his hands against his jeans to rub the sweat off and to shake out his nerves. "What made you want to come here?"
Draco waved his hand as if portkeying to a different country wasn't that big of a deal. "I wanted to get away from Hogwarts for a bit, and this was the first place I thought of. Never did try the coffee here when I was younger."
The waitress bounced back over to them with a pad and quill in hand. She smiled with her eyes fully on Draco. Harry squirmed trying to fight off a sudden rush of irritation at her apparent interest in Malfoy. She asked Draco something in French and he returned with what Harry assumed was their order… but in French. The witch flashed him a wide smile and the next few lines of dialog between the two felt a bit off script for just ordering food and drinks. When she finally left, Draco turned his attention back to Harry with a slightly smug expression.
"I didn't know you could speak French. Sounded fluent," Harry accused and then tried not grimace at the obvious irritation in his voice. He felt like Malfoy could read whatever expression he was wearing well enough without his voice betraying him.
"Madeline certainly thought so," Draco hummed and gestured to the waitress who leaned on the counter as if on display with the pastries. "Hope you don't mind me ordering for you."
Soft music floated from the back of the café and mingled with the quiet chatter of other customers. Harry took a moment to look around and wonder at the odd circumstances he found himself in before narrowing his focus back to Draco. Malfoy seemed to be content with ignoring their surroundings and just stare at Harry.
"Malfoy," Harry started.
"Draco."
"Draco. Do I have something on my face?" He asked.
"No, why do you ask?" Draco leaned onto his elbows perching his head on his hands.
"You were staring. Is something wrong?" Harry said echoing Draco's words from the library. The boy across from him looked away with a laugh and blush blossoming across his face.
The server, Madeline, returned with two hot cups and a series of small sandwiches. She placed a mug of something frothy and creamy in front of Harry that looked like soft chocolate clouds and smelled like a dream. Draco's cup appeared to be straight black drip coffee even though he seemed to nearly purr when he took a sip.
"Ma—Draco. About earlier," Harry began.
"No," Draco replied. He set his coffee down with a little too much force making the porcelain clang against the wood of the table. "We're not talking fears, or prophecies, or anything like that."
"Okay." Harry took a sip of his whatever and found it to be just as tantalizing on the taste buds as it was on his olfactory. He struggled to figure out where this was going, where he wanted it to go. "What do we talk about then?"
Malfoy leaned back in his chair exposing his neck and rolling his shoulders back. He looked more relaxed than Harry had ever seen him at Hogwarts, and yet he appeared feral and energized as if Harry could reach over and steal some of his power just by soft touches and stolen kisses. Underneath the table, Draco's foot came to rest next to Harry's and didn't move. "We could talk about how when we get back to Hogwarts we might have to pay Blaise blackmail money."
"For what?" Harry blushed down into his coffee as he imagined the scene from Zabini's point of view. "What's he going to say? 'Potter and Malfoy were talking'? We've been doing plenty of that recently."
"I wouldn't put it past him to make up a few extra exciting details," said Draco. He looked exceptionally pleased at the prospect. Harry didn't know how to take that.
"Exciting?" Great, no, that hadn't been the part he wanted to focus on. His mouth obviously had been hexed, he'd have to get that checked out later. Draco was now leaning in, and despite the table, he now felt entirely too close for comfort.
"Shall I give you some examples?" He took a sip of his inky drink as if in thought. "Let's start simple. 'Potter dragged Malfoy by the hand to his room and when I went to check on them, they were snogging.' Wouldn't be a complete lie, now would it?"
He's an evil bastard, and I'm not sure why I thought we could be friends, Harry thought. "I might have dragged you," he conceded and picked at one of the sandwiches to have something to do while Draco continued.
"Then of course he could exaggerate a bit. 'Potter and Malfoy had their hands everywhere and jumped apart in guilt when I came in the room.'"
Harry choked on the damn sandwich.
"Or how about…" Draco smirked and started speaking in a low voice that forced Harry to lean in to hear him. "Or, 'Harry had Draco pinned to the bed half naked, panting, and hard—'"
"Okay!" Harry yelled a little too loud. Several customers around them stared. He could feel the tips of his ears burning and was fighting the very real need to adjust his suddenly tight jeans. "I get the idea! Given that some thought, have you?"
"Yes," Draco replied quick enough to make Harry wonder. He couldn't help feeling as if he were being teased and tested at the same time. "We should be prepared for whatever gossip is going around when we get back." Draco leaned back as if the idea didn't bother him and plucked up a cucumber sandwich.
Harry waited until Draco had taken a significant bite before taking his own revenge. "It's a pity, isn't it?" Draco raised an eyebrow in question. "Rumors of snogging without being able to experience making out first hand. Seems like we're missing out, yeah?"
Harry grinned into his cup as Draco began to cough around his food.
Sputtering, Draco went red trying to dislodge the sudden piece of bread blocking his airway. He narrowed his eyes at Harry who was laughing quietly. He hadn't anticipated the sudden shift from embarrassment to flirtation.
"I'm only joking, Draco," said Harry, his voice full of humor and his eyes dangerous. "So, yes. What do we do with the potential gossip?"
As Draco managed to recover his dignity, he mulled that over. "There is a fair chance Zabini might try to blackmail us instead. But I doubt it. We could start a counter rumor. Say we were fighting?"
"That's more believable than us, you know. I guess." Harry tapped a finger on his empty cup and bounced his leg next to Draco.
Under the table their feet still touched not moving a millimeter in one direction or the other. Draco wondered if Harry even noticed. He seemed genuinely lost in thought with his shoulders hunched and his lips turned down in an almost frown. Those green eyes darted about the table and occasionally up to the lower half of Draco's face.
"The only option, the only real option we have," Draco sighed, "is to outright deny or confirm whatever is being said. There's not much else to do about school gossip."
"Wouldn't that be a bad thing?" Harry meet his gaze. "I mean for you," he amended. It struck Draco that Harry thought the rumors of them together would hurt him somehow. The sentiment made Draco's stomach twist and his heart beat a little more rapidly.
"Harry, while it could be problematic if people decided I was manipulating you," Draco held up a hand to stop whatever Harry was about to interject with. "I know you wouldn't allow people to think that, or at least you would put a stop to it. I could only benefit from being seen in a relationship with you, whether it's just friendly or… otherwise. Your reputation, on the other hand, wouldn't fair very well. Or did you forget I'm a Death Eater?"
"Former Death Eater," Harry corrected with an intense speed. "And I'm not worried about myself here."
"You should be," Draco replied. He rolled his shoulders and wished he could order another coffee to have something to do. The conversation felt more like negotiating a potential relationship than trying to decide what to do when they got back.
"I'm not." Harry's voice had a firm conviction which felt just as dangerous to Draco as anything else the Gryffindor did when he had decided on a course of action. It pulled at Draco's instincts to argue and be contrary, but he held back. Instead, he allowed a moment to enjoy the loyalty he had no idea how he managed to earn.
The waitress came over with the bill and Draco paid. "Let's go," he said quietly. They pulled on their coats and headed outside. The sun had set and Draco found he couldn't be bothered to care about the time despite knowing the consequences. He was admiring the stars when Harry gave a cough and held something out to him.
"The receipt," Harry said and he was blushing. "She left a note."
Draco blinked at it and then laughed when he saw the curly French script. "Her address and request for a Floo call. Well, she's very confident."
Harry rolled his eyes. "And very attractive. You should keep it." He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away.
"Not my type," Draco murmured more to himself than to respond. Harry heard him anyway and looked up almost hopeful. "Come on, I'm not done here."
Snow started to fall during their walk in small dusty flakes that stuck to eyelashes and sleeves for mere moments before melting away. Summers in this place were almost unbearably warm with lush amounts of flowers, greenery, and produce lining every bit of street as the farmers brought out their yields. Now in winter the village was quiet and sleepy, and on some roads he and Harry were completely alone. At one point the street opened up to a series of docks along a narrow river that bisected the east and west sides of the village. A line of small fishing boats sat covered under tarps and separated by small individual ramps. Draco smiled and stopped.
"What is it?" Harry asked and he stepped up next to Draco.
"I came here when I was five," Draco started. He shivered from the cold and jumped a little as Harry muttered a quick warming spell on them both. Draco tried to smile his thanks. "Lucius and Narcissa were at meeting with some of the townspeople and my nanny—don't give me that look—and I came here. I begged her to play hide-and-go-seek. Eventually she relented and I hid down there on the pier in a barrel." Draco wrinkled his nose. "It smelled horrible, but… I fell asleep and must have been there for hours."
Harry leaned against him and Draco could feel his laughter where they touched. "I bet she panicked."
"Yes she did. They had half the town looking for me. An old woman found me and took me to our summer house."
"Sounds like quite the adventure," said Harry like he meant it. "Draco, why do call them by their first names? Your parents, I mean."
Draco tensed which had the effect of Harry taking a half a step away. "They aren't my parents anymore," he said and it came out darker than he wanted. The pang in his chest when he said it out loud rang out as a silent reminder that the statement wasn't completely true. He didn't want to see the impact of that statement on Harry, so he shifted the conversation back to more comfortable territory. "Have any adventures yourself? Besides making life miserable for dark lords?"
Harry didn't respond for a moment and Draco feared he might prod the subject further. "Not any like yours outside of Hogwarts. There was this one time when Ron and I were at the burrow and I was attempting to teach him how to light a fire the muggle way when we nearly caught the whole front garden on fire."
They continued to walk without intent. Draco would tell a story when a certain landmark reminded him of one and Harry would respond with his own from Hogwarts or from with the Weasleys. Draco admitted missing his nanny because she had been the closest thing to a childhood friend he had and Harry carefully avoided talking about his past before getting his letter from Hogwarts. Eventually under a silent agreement they started to make their way back to the entrance to town. Before they could get reach the wall, Harry struck out his hand and grabbed Draco's. Startled, Draco turned to face him only to find Harry with his head bowed and trembling slightly.
"Draco," Harry said and then cleared his throat. Draco felt his chest constrict. "About the cupboard."
"You don't need to—"
Harry cut him off by squeezing his hand. "When I was dropped off with my aunt and uncle, they, well, they weren't happy. They hated me, hated my abilities. So much so that they kept me being a wizard a secret and then made me live in a cupboard under the stairs."
Draco held his breath. He was afraid he would say the wrong thing so he just listened. Harry took a few breaths before going on.
"They forced me to work like a slave," he bit out. Draco moved slowly to be closer to him. "Sometimes they would lock me in the cupboard for days at a time and forget to feed me. They called me a freak, and I—I believed them."
The confession left Draco feeling hollow and numb. He had known about Harry Potter and his accomplishments before ever meeting him, and Harry had grown up never knowing how important he was or what made him special. A desire to find these muggles and burn the house down, cupboard and all, flooded him with and angry warmth. He struggled to reconcile the stupidly brave boy he knew with someone who was once kept like an abused house-elf by his own relatives.
"I guess I never did get over being in tight spaces after that," he finished.
Draco wished he could say what he really wanted in that moment. That he could express the rage and urge to get revenge on Harry's muggle relatives. That he was once again unable to understand how Harry could trust him with this kind of information. That no matter what anyone said, including Draco, Harry wasn't a freak.
Harry tried to let go of Draco's hand but Draco wouldn't let him. Draco waited until he looked from where their hands were to his eyes. "Thank you," he said. "Thank you for telling me."
Harry shrugged. "You were right; you deserved to know."
"No, I didn't," Draco said and Harry looked at him in surprise. "I wanted to know, yes, but you had every right to keep it yourself."
A clock in the distance struck with the hour and both of the boys winced at the reminder of the hour. It was going to be too late to sneak back into the castle if they left now and Draco doubted staying at an inn in the village would be wise if they wanted to make their morning classes. The realization fell heavy on the moment and they let their hands fall to their sides. Draco took out the second portkey and unwrapped it to reveal a small broken marble.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Oh, I get a warning this time?" Harry scoffed. He took off his gloves and held out a hand. Draco grinned a halfhearted apology before activating the portkey. There was the familiar pull and sickening drag, but this time Draco struck out a hand before Harry could fall on his face on the landing. He caught Harry spinning him around to fall into his chest instead of the icy water of the fountain at Hogsmeade. Harry muttered an "oomph" and placed his hands on Draco pushing himself back slightly. Draco's arm stayed around his back. The town square was empty and the only sound was their breathing and the crunch of snow under their boots.
"Thanks," Harry said looking up at him.
Draco made to let go of him, but then Harry's hands suddenly travelled upwards cupping Draco's neck for a moment and then resting in Draco's hair.
"In for a penny…" Harry said.
"Are you ever going to tell me what the hell a penny is?" Draco asked. He moved forward minutely and that seemed to be all the permission Harry had needed before kissing him. The pressure on his lips was soft, firm and warm. It was a declaration of intent and display of courage before moving into something deeper, something hungrier. Draco found himself replying to it by putting his hands on Harry's hips and pulling him closer while tilting his head to seek a better angle. He tried to match Harry's eagerness with his own, pouring every ounce of what he felt into the moment. One press of lips each for the appreciation, fondness, trepidation, and acceptance Harry had come to make him feel. When they pulled away, Harry chased his lips to place one last quick kiss. Everything fell quiet and still.
Then the sound of a camera shutter shattered the silence.
