A/N: Hey guys! Sorry this chapter is late, but I had the flu! I tried to reason with the flu and tell it I had the flu shot and that I had classes and a New Year's resolution and a social life and all that good stuff, but nothing. Still got sick. Anyway, I hope everyone likes this chapter. I think there's going to be one more real chapter and then the epilogue which is a few years in the future. I'm so sad this story is over! It was like a huge project, and I guess in a sense it's a relief I actually pulled it off, but in another sense I want to keep the soap opera going for 20 years. But nevermind. There's AS/S to write, and I did not forget about that story! I will be updating as soon as I am a bit better, so sorry y'all.
Chapter 29:
"Check," Ron declared.
"How do you reckon?" Harry protested, bewildered.
"I'm not going to tell you," Ron sighed as if put upon. Harry rolled his eyes. Ron took each chess game personally, as if he was playing in the World Wizarding Chess Cup. Actually- Ron could. Maybe in another life.
"Just keep watching," Ron smiled, then he added smugly, "As you lose."
Harry rolled his eyes. They were in Ron's old garish childhood bedroom, complete with cot bed and springs, and Cannons poster on the wall. Harry smiled at it, the sight of it warming something deep down, almost to his toes. Today was their monthly family visit- well, Harry's date for his monthly visit. Harry was fairly sure the entire family couldn't fit in the Burrow on the off season when the house wasn't magically expanded.
"I give up," Harry sighed, knocking down the last of his white pieces. A few of them scrambled to hold onto the board, but most of his men gave up in defeat.
"Git," Ron huffed, spelling the pieces back into the drawer. "That set is an antique now. Charlie gave it to me."
"Merlin," Harry sighed, relaxing onto the cot. It squeaked in protest at Harry's bulk, and Harry frowned down at the bed warily. Somehow he had recalled the cot being larger, or perhaps he had been thinner. Draco had warned him against buying all those crisps at the shops, but Harry had been hungry when they had gone out to the grocer's. Still, Harry did chase suspects.
Well, mostly they Apparated, but honestly.
Harry poked his stomach. It was hard, all muscle.
He wouldn't ever admit it, not even to Ron, but Harry let out a little sigh of relief.
"Harry," Ron began again, too casually. "How's the cottage going?"
"Good," Harry said, warming to the new topic. Draco had mostly left Godric's to him, even though they were both going to live in the cottage. Harry could tell it was conscious decision on his part, a tangible wedding present and something more- something that was Harry's own; that he could build, and meld, and, shape to make in his own likeness. Harry knew why Draco had done it and why neither of them were talking about it. Even in a marriage some thing were just not said. Harry could appreciate Draco because of this, he really, truly could. Draco understood him better than any other person alive, and he didn't make any other demands of him. He just wanted Harry to be happy.
"We're still deciding on the layout upstairs," Harry said eagerly. "We were thinking of two guest bedrooms, a study, and an upstairs bath. My parents only had one guest bedroom, but we could make one into Teddy's room. We'll see. Then we have to make time to see that Unspeakable about the wards."
"Circe and Morgana," Ron whistled. "Well, I reckon, it's still smaller than Grimmauld either way you hex it. Are you doing fidelius?"
"Yes," Harry nodded. He had researched the best in wizarding warded home security with Draco, Bill, and an old coworker of Bill's who had gone into business for himself. "And another set of wards based off our marriage rites. The cottage will be untraceable."
"Good," Ron nodded fiercely and inside Harry smiled a little, thinking back to the days when he could barely be sure of Ron's approval of his relationship with Draco. To be sitting here, in the Burrow, talking about his marriage and his new home, felt like amazing. In fact, it felt like a little miracle.
A companionable moment of silence passed before Ron spoke again. "How is Draco taking the set back on the study?"
"Er," Harry said, scratching the back of his neck. This line of questioning could only lead to disaster- what was Ron thinking? "You know Malfoy."
"Ah," Ron said sagely. "You don't need muffliato to tell me."
To tell the truth, Draco had mostly been silent about his upset. In fact, Draco had taken to being out all day, for long hours. Harry hadn't thought to feel paranoid until he couldn't find Draco for the fifth day in the row, with Cho's face smirking over in Dispatch. Finally, Harry took off from work to sate his rampant curiosity, not jealousy, only to feel like a bit of an idiot. Draco had been visiting the bookshop in Godric's Hollow, flying there on the broom Harry had given him. Then he would eat lunch in the cemetery by Harry's parents graves, and leave.
Harry had wanted to rush over and hug him, he was so touched.
But he knew he would only probably end up getting into trouble for being a noisy, fearful git.
"He's flying a lot now," Harry said, by means of an explanation. For some reason Harry didn't want to leave Ron with the impression that Draco was getting on him. No, their life was generally quiet. Harry smiled. In fact, he quite liked it that way.
"Never thought it was any different," Ron said glumly and Harry looked at him, confused. Ron leaned back on the bed, reaching for one of the old, dusty pillows behind his head; folding it in half in order to make himself a bit of a prop. Harry was certain that Ron didn't wish Draco or himself ill- so something had to be wrong with him. But Ron came into work everyday and did his work and all of Harry's paperwork, most of the time. It just didn't make any sense.
"Are you alright, Ron?" Harry asked, still trying to work out if he had missed any cues that a better friend would have caught.
"I think Hermione's pregnant again," Ron said.
"Think?" Harry repeated in the same tone, baffled. "Wouldn't you know?"
"Can't tell yet," Ron shrugged. "She told me right away with Rosie. This time she's being all quiet. She won't let me hug her a certain way, and when I told her I didn't like her robes this morning she called me a sneering, sadistic simpleton. Then she went and made us both tea and said I was right- that they did make her look crumpled."
"Maybe she's just upset because of the study," Harry said, trying not to laugh at the thought of Hermione calling Ron a sadist in crumpled robes. It was better than a flock of birds at any rate, the old girl was losing her touch. "Maybe Draco can talk to her, and they can edit the paper-"
"It's not the study," Ron said, sitting up abruptly. "Don't say that to her, I did last night, and I nearly got one of Rosie's toys spelled at my head! Besides, she won't even let me in the loo with her anymore. Does Malfoy let you in the loo with him?"
"Er," Harry thought of trying to tame his hair this morning while Draco took a shower. Or did Ron mean like when they had a shag in the bath with candles and they used the special taps-
"Never mind," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "Newlyweds. I remember those days. I also remember how soon they're gone."
Harry rolled his eyes. He remembered back when he had been hesitant to get engaged, and Ron had been the one to plant the seed in his mind. The only reason Ron was in a mood today was because Hermione had chewed him a new one. Harry couldn't say he blamed her, though. Well, if Hermione was pregnant, anyway. Harry didn't know much about witches, but he did know that accusing one of being pregnant when they weren't was an offense that got a bloke sent to a metaphorical Azkaban.
"Do you want another one?" Harry questioned, asking the far safer question at the forefront of his mind.
Ron nodded eagerly.
"I'd have a Burrow full," Ron smiled wistfully. "Well not full. I remember growing up. There was never enough of anything going around, except colds and hand-me-downs. And jumpers. But I reckon we could handle one or two more on our budget, and without having to move. But you know Hermione. She can't see herself being a mum, and a crusader. She wants to save the world."
"You could do both," Harry said, pounding the mattress. He wasn't even sure why he felt so adamantly against stereotypes, except that he had the been the victim of quite a few of them in his day. Hermione should be able to work and juggle her children, and Draco should be able to change the world, no matter his past, and Harry should be able to-
Well, Harry didn't want anything right now.
Odd that. He beamed to himself.
"Newlywed," Ron snorted. "I hope that Malfoy is-"
"Are you talking about me?" Draco questioned, coming at that exact moment. He strode in, cocky and bright and gorgeous in a pair of painted on old jeans, and Harry's favorite grey t-shirt; levitating three cups of tea in front of himself. Harry tried not to smile too hard. He didn't want to make Ron feel like the third wheel, or any more upset than he was after Hermione's crumpled-robe incident of earlier today.
"Not really," Harry said, rising to assist Draco. He also had to resist the urge to kiss Draco on the neck when he took two of the tea cups. Ron was right- marriage was difficult, after all. "Ron's just complaining about something that happened earlier today. Thank you for the tea." "Hermione's mental," Ron decided to share his grief with Draco as Draco sat down on the lone chair in the room. "Do you think it's-"
Harry glared at Ron so hard he nearly turned to dust. If Ron brought up the study and made Draco upset, Harry would make sure to make Ron upset at work.
"Do you think that it's got something to do with a secret?" Ron finally continued lamely. Poor Ron. If Hermione was pregnant Harry would take him out to the Red Responders, just like the last time. But if she wasn't, Ron was going to have to learn how to keep his big gob shut.
"I wouldn't have the slightest idea about your wife's secrets," Draco said far too archly. Harry smiled at him. Smug little Slytherin. He didn't have a clue, but he wanted to play as if he had, just to dangle the tarot deck in front of Ron's face. Some things would never change.
"You would say that, you dirty snake," Ron groused.
"Ask Hermione," Draco retorted, rising from his chair. "All I know is you tell her she looks bad in robes. Everyone knows that the only answer to those kinds of questions is you look lovely, darling. Right, Harry?"
"Er," Harry snapped to attention. "Right, Malfoy."
Draco beamed.
"Ron," Harry began. "Do you ever feel as though you are too daft to be who you are?"
Ron paused underneath the lamplight, as though considering Harry's statement. Robards hadn't even allowed them the courtesy of going home after they had finished their scrolls of paperwork, instead, they were now strolling the familiar route of Occasion Alley's boutique shops, monitoring for crime. Harry had even passed the designer jeweler's where he had gotten Draco's ring. Harry smiled at the shut shop window, the velvet curtains drawn tightly over the high glass panes. Somehow, even the innocuous fabric and wood seemed friendly and loving, now that it was pared with one of the happiest memories in his life.
"I dunno what you mean, mate," Ron shrugged. "Is this a Hermione thing, or a Malfoy thing?"
"Dunno," Harry said, kicking a stone. It was really a Draco thing, he supposed. Everything was so wonderful. Harry was more than happy, every day he got to do what he loved, and he went home to the person he loved more than any other in the world. Everything had come at so little a price.
For him, that was.
For Draco, everything had come at the greatest price. Draco had let go of his career as a teacher, and his dream to research. But it was before that, wasn't it? Draco had lost so many people, maybe even more than Harry himself. He had lost his father, he was estranged from his mum and the Boneses, though things were better on that front. Parkinson was long gone, Zabini was gone, Crabbe and Goyle, all of his Slytherin set.
Did Draco ever wish Harry hadn't cost him so much? Or would bring him more?
If Harry knew of a way, he'd fix it so Draco could have what he most wanted out of the world, without the prejudices of the worst of society interfering.
But Harry supposed that that was what true love was, wasn't it? Harry was willing to do anything to make Draco's dreams come true. And Draco was wiling to give up his dreams, buy Harry's parent's cottage, and play a role which wouldn't emotionally satisfy a teaspoon.
They were at an impasse.
"I've got a grey hair," Ron said, apropos of nothing. "I found it yesterday when I was taking a shower. Hermione said I should take it out with my wand, but I left it in, I felt like the gods had put it there for a reason, y'know? Do you think I'll be going prematurely grey?"
"Dunno," Harry scratched his head. "Your dad isn't grey."
"Yeah," Ron muttered as they strolled. "I just can't go grey before my dad and my brothers. Bloody hell."
As they rounded Occasion and past Diagon, the shops became a small residential district. Harry steeled himself. Whenever he and Ron walked through this lovely, overpriced neighborhood, it was as though the shutters on the windows suddenly opened, and the wards quickly lowered. Harry pushed his hair over his scar awkwardly, and then huffed at his own foolishness. Even though he couldn't see the eyes, his Auror senses meant that he could feel them on him- watching as though they were pawing through one of their silly, useless mags.
Ron's head jerked up and instinctively Harry's hand closed on his wand. Nothing happened. In the distance, though, a shadow- a flicker of a candle behind a curtain; or perhaps a figure darting behind their wards.
"Does me in, this," Ron grumbled.
"Robards does this to remind us," Harry sucked in a long breath. "I wish I could figure out a way to use this all to our advantage."
"This isn't a case, mate," Ron stared at Harry as though he was trying to puzzle out the particular ailment Harry had acquired. "And anyway, we're done, thank the gods. Let's get back to the Ministry."
Harry walked into a silent, dark cottage when he got home. It wasn't surprising- Cho had told him that Draco was planning to go to Kent and make a night of it. Still, it didn't make it any less lonely. Harry stared at the smaller living room, furnished with all of the pieces they had picked out together, with Draco's Egyptian throws, and Harry's rug by the Floo. It was a beautiful little sitting room. But it was a bit sad- wonderfully sad to be here without Draco there to share it with him; to put his caramel head in Harry's lap, and to quarrel with Harry over the wireless. Harry was almost certain that this was the first time he was alone in the cottage without Draco. It felt foreign. For some reason he wanted a lot of candles lit.
Harry forced himself to get up from the sofa and head to the kitchen. He was hungry and he needed a shower, but he wanted food more than he wanted a bath right now. Thankfully, today he wasn't so filthy after work that bathing was the primary objective. Still, Draco would have rowed with him.
Take a shower, Draco would have groaned. You mangy beast,
That put Harry in mind of the cat. Where was she? She usually came trotting down the stairs whenever either of them came home from work, ready to use her to beg for food. Harry hoped that she hadn't been left out. Once she had, and Draco had nearly died, though he had pretended to nonchalant about the whole affair.
"Cat," Harry called, and then added in her name. "Allison."
This was humiliating, even alone. Harry accio'dher cat food bag, with it's moving photographs of leaping, playful kittens. Umbridge would have loved it.
"Alli-son," Harry sang, trying to mimic the way Teddy did it. "Alli-"
A sudden noise made Harry jump. So much for his Auror senses. Or maybe he turned them off when he got within the confines of his own home.
It was Draco. He was wearing Harry's favorite tracksuit bottoms with vest that had paint on it from one of Teddy's failed experiments. He was carrying Allison. The little demon didn't even think of using her claws on Draco's bare arms; in fact, she was staring up at him adoringly.
"I want a crup," Harry said dryly. "Or even a dog will do."
Draco smiled, but the smile was watery and weak. Harry stared at him, a feeling of dread tugging at his insides. Draco hadn't come to the door, Draco hadn't been there to see him when he got home, Draco was once again going through the motions of life-
"Something is wrong." Harry said, sitting down on the nearest stool. Harry steeled himself for any reaction. Draco used to avoid telling him what was on his mind. He might do that again.
"Nonsense," Draco said simply, placing Allison on the ground. The cat scurried away, as though she could sense the altercation looming in the air. Harry adjusted his sleeve awkwardly. There was a bit of a grease stain on it, from something- he wasn't sure what. Maybe takeaway.
"I made pasta," Draco continued, idly. "It's under stasis."
"Ah," Harry smiled. It was only pasta. "Thank you."
Something had to be done. Soon.
