Despite his best efforts, several hours passed before Harry was able to leave the Ministry of Magic for home. Word spread quickly that Lucius Malfoy had been arrested after attacking Harry when he attempted to arrest him, subsequently losing an arm at the wand of his own son. The entire Department of Magical Law Enforcement seemed to be present when they arrived; Aurors and Magical Law Enforcement Patrol Wizards and Witches were either staring openly or helping to fend off reporters and photographers hungry to be the first to run the exclusive headline.
Gawain Robards was furious that Harry had made the arrest before his warrant was approved, and only relented when Harry insisted that there were exigent circumstances, explaining that Draco had been trapped in the maze. Despite the additional charges levied against Lucius for possession of dangerous potions belonging to Tom Riddle, and attempted bribery of a Ministry official, Gawain relegated Harry to administrative duty for the next six weeks. Harry shrugged, happy that his prediction of a six-month suspension from active investigation did not come to pass. He completed his paperwork as quickly has he could possibly do so without making any errors that would adversely affect the outcome of the case. He hurriedly gathered his belongings for a second time, and was headed across the squad room for the exit, when Patrol Witch Vietti informed him that the press were camped out in the atrium waiting for him. He thanked her profusely and headed for the apparition point in the catacombs.
Draco was waiting when Harry stepped out of the fireplace into the parlour at Number Twelve.
"I'm so sorry that it took me so long, my darling. It was a madhouse. I—" Draco was on his feet before Harry could finish. He pressed a finger to his lips and pulled him in close.
"It's alright. I understand, beloved." Draco brushed his lips over Harry's. "I owe you an explanation for how I ended up at The Manor in the first place. Come on." He took Harry's hand and turned.
The most heavenly aromas immediately filled Harry's nostrils when they landed. It took him a brief moment to realize that they were at the house in Spinner's End. The sitting room was no longer dark and crowded with shelves crammed full of books. The walls were a pale gray with bright white trim. Behind the volumes on the remaining bookcase, the wall was a deep gray that made the white shelves stand out in contrast. The sofa and armchairs had been reupholstered in an opulent shade of navy blue, the sagging cushions plumped like new, and the scarred side tables buffed smooth and polished to a shine. Above the mantelpiece, a large silver frame highlighted a sketch of Hedwig. The small photo of young Lily Evans still held prominence between the candlesticks. Harry turned from the drawing to Draco in surprise.
"I hope you don't mind. I found it in the wardrobe at Number Twelve. Dean is quite gifted, and I know how much Hedwig meant to you." Draco wrapped his arms around Harry's waist.
"You remodeled the entire house?"
"Unfortunately, I didn't get that far. I had hoped to surprise you by painting the muggle way. I'd finished the kitchen and was setting up in here when I discovered Mother's compact mirror lost in a corner. I had no idea that it was a portkey." Draco sighed apologetically. Harry gave him a reassuring squeeze. "I have to admit that I finished this room magically. I wanted to have time to cook and get back to Number Twelve before you returned home."
"You cooked?" Harry gave him an incredulous look. Draco shrugged, smiling sheepishly.
"America has made me a changed man," he replied. "Come on."
He led Harry out to the terrace where dozens of bluebell flames flickered in glass bottles of different sizes and shapes all around the space, and a fire bowl floated above the center of the table, which had been set for dinner, beside which a bottle of wine sat on ice in a silver bucket. Draco pulled out a chair for Harry and flicked his wand to summon two covered dishes from the kitchen. He removed the domed covers with a flourish and vanished them before uncorking the wine and pouring.
"I placed everything under a warming charm."
"You did all this for me?" Harry was awestruck by the dinner of veal piccata, with orzo pasta and a vegetable medley which featured grilled artichokes, carrots, summer squash, zucchini and eggplant.
"For us, Harry." Draco sat down across from him and took his hand. "I love you, Harry Potter. You don't know what it meant to have you say that you love me too, in spite of our past. I want us to build a future together."
"Are you—are you proposing?" Harry stammered, his eyes wide. Draco smiled and bit his lip.
"No," he replied. "It's not that I might not want to—someday," he hastily added. He squeezed Harry's hand. "I just wanted to show you what you mean to me—without the waiters, or house-elves…or elaborate spells—just sincere Draco." He worried his lip as he gazed into Harry's eyes.
"I love it…and I love you, Draco Malfoy." Harry leaned across the table and planted a kiss on his lips. He lifted his glass of wine. "To us."
"Forever," said Draco.
"Always," said Harry. They touched their glasses with a gentle clink.
After their meal, Harry washed the dishes while Draco dried them and put them away.
"I love the colors you used in here. It makes the room feel more inviting—alive!" said Harry as he rinsed a skillet and passed it to Draco.
"Do you, really? I was worried you wouldn't like the green."
"I think it's perfect. This shade works well here, especially with the white fixtures. Everything was so dull before, don't you think?" Harry rinsed the last dish and turned to survey the room, wiping his damp hands on his shirt.
"It is perfect," said Draco as he put away the dish. "But your manners are not." He pursed his lips, flinging the towel at Harry, who dried his hands and flung it back at him with a smirk. Draco rolled his eyes and snapped the towel, stinging Harry's thigh. Harry yelped, jumping backward and looking at him in surprise. Draco simply winked at him, his lips curving into his characteristic smirk.
They returned to the sitting room with more wine and a small platter of cannoli, which they fed one another as Harry lay in Draco's arms.
"It's funny," Harry said, taking a sip of wine. He traced circles on Draco's thigh with his free hand.
"What's that?" Draco asked, lightly carding his fingers through Harry's hair.
"Well, before I left the office—the first time—I was thinking that we hadn't really taken the time to assess our relationship. You know, talk about the mundane things like whether we would live together, live here, London, America…we haven't even done something as simple as take a photo together."
"True."
"I'm not complaining, mind you," Harry added quickly. "I was just thinking about it all, daydreaming really, and it occurred to me that I didn't really know if we wanted the same things from this—our relationship." He sighed and took another sip of wine. "Then, as my life seems wont to do, everything suddenly went to hell in a handbasket. I had come home early to bring all these things up, and—"
"And I had to go and foul it all up," said Draco. Harry sat up, turning to Draco as he set his glass aside.
"No, you didn't. How were you to know you were picking up a portkey? When you confronted Lucius like that—I—"
"I meant every word, Harry. My father's conniving, selfish lust for power nearly destroyed us all. It's like he didn't even care that he'd been given a second chance to live a better life. I absolutely hate him. I hate him for making me choose between loyalty to my name and my love for you. Sometimes I wonder what it might have been like if I'd chosen you, right from the beginning—tried harder to let you know how I really felt, instead of playing games."
"Draco—"
"No, wait. When I first came back here—the day that I followed you from the newsstand—you said that people use you, and the ones who don't always get hurt. I understand that. I do. I told you that Lucius' motto was that 'the rich and powerful take what they want'. He used me over and over again to do just that. I don't think I've ever known what real love is."
"Narcissa loves you, Draco."
"Oh, she does, without a doubt. Still, Mother was never...doting. It wasn't in the way she was raised. Mother's love is a duty—to protect her offspring. In some ways, affection is new to her. Mother is much smarter than most people—father, especially—take her for. She's observant enough to have taken notice of how I felt about you, but she didn't begin to understand me until she realized that she could lose me.
When we started all of this with Lucius, Tia asked me if I was only using you to get back at him. I didn't think that I was. I had planned to take him for everything, long before you came back into my life, but I think maybe I did unintentionally use you, Harry. I hope that you can forgive me for that. And as for those who care about you always getting hurt—well, I think we cleared that hurdle in the second floor girls' lavatory quite some time ago." He pulled Harry back into his arms. "You're the first person to ever just love me, Harry. You chose me, and you came back for me. You don't need or want anything material from me—you have friends, wealth, fame—even though you carry on as though you could do without it—but I still want to give you the world. I want to give you everything you've never had—new experiences, memories—good ones—maybe even someday a family. For there's not a refined man who doesn't take pleasure at the spectacle of the happiness of the person he adores."
Narcissa sat on the edge of her bed staring at the mobile phone in her hand. She'd wanted to call Preston the moment that she asked Harry to show her to use the phone, but all of the excitement of the confrontation with Lucius had placed her plans on the back burner. She had tossed and turned all night when Draco escorted her back to Number Twelve from the hospital. How could she feel any disloyalty to Lucius, when he'd hardly shown her any in quite some time? Her own husband had poisoned her, brokered a deal to trade their son for some dark artefact, and then actually dueled the both of them in their very own home! She couldn't shake the image of Lucius raising his wand, yet another Unforgivable Curse upon his lips and aimed toward her, when Draco leapt between them. Her stomach lurched slightly at the memory of blood pooling between Lucius and his severed arm, fingers still twitching around the hilt of the wand.
Those thoughts battled with her curious attraction to the muggle who'd unknowingly wed a witch, and was likely raising another. How would he react when he found out? What would he think when he learned that his wife's death was no accident? Could she keep such a secret from him? Narcissa set the phone aside.
Once Preston learned that Morwenna was a witch, Narcissa knew she would not be able to hide her dark past from him. The war would surely become a part of the curriculum at Hogwarts, and the Malfoys had always provided plenty of fodder for the press when Harry wasn't. She bit her lip,
"Andromeda always said my dreams were too big for my cauldron," she murmured, thinking of her estranged sister.
"Of course, she also said that desire and love are stronger than fear."
Narcissa looked up at the painting over the hearth. Dorea Black Potter gave her great-niece a knowing nod.
"Auntie! You've been spying on me?"
"I have only noticed the absolutely unseemly manner in which you and Draco have behaved since arriving at the house. The blood traitor has had quite an effect upon you both! Trousers! Honestly child! What has gotten into you?"
"Reality, my dear aunt. The war has affected us all in many ways. I find it interesting that you would quote my sister. I seem to recall you standing with Mother and Father when she was told never to darken their doorstep again." The witch in the painting gave a shrug. Narcissa thought again of Lucius uttering Unforgivable Curses that were aimed at her, and the agony of the potion she'd ingested. She snatched up the phone.
Harry and Draco woke late and ate a rushed breakfast before apparating back to Number Twelve. The two wizards had talked into the night, eventually falling asleep on the sofa, curled into one another's arms. Although he didn't want to do anything but spend a lazy day, lying in Draco's arms, Harry knew there was still much to be done ahead of Lucius' arraignment hearing and he would have to go in to work.
"I know you're getting tired of it, but I still think you should keep a low profile for a while longer, my love. The press are hungry for this story, and they'll be all over you and Narcissa," said Harry as he shaved.
"Yes, I'd like to avoid that if at all possible. We'll have to deal with it all with soon enough. Perhaps I can convince Mother to come to Cokeworth with me and work on the house. Maybe she can do something with that barren terrace. She's amazing with horticulture and herbology you know." Draco leaned against the headboard, his bare feet crossed at the ankle.
"She said that she designed the maze at The Manor," said Harry, adjusting a towel about his waist as he emerged from the bath. Draco nodded. "That's frightening." Harry smirked. He turned to the bureau and retrieved underwear.
"Mother's much smarter than many give her credit for, Lucius especially. Kreacher, you're soiling Master Harry's robes," he said.
Harry turned and saw that the hems of his freshly pressed clothes dragged over the floor as the old elf entered the room with them levitated before him. He took the robes from Kreacher and flicked his wand to clean them up. Kreacher slumped to the floor and begged for forgiveness. Harry stared at him curiously.
The old elf had always been absolutely fastidious in his duties, and often commented on his honor to serve the House of Black, scoffing at Harry's attempts to offer him kindness.
"Kreacher, are you ill?" he asked.
"Kreacher is only feeling a bit of his age, Master Harry. Kreacher will not let any weakness deter him from service to the House of Black." Kreacher pulled himself to his feet and bowed unsteadily, staggering a bit as he lifted his over-large head. Harry caught him before he could fall, shooting a glance over at Draco, who had now sat up and was also giving the elf a concerned look.
"Kreacher, I want you to go to your cupboard and stay there for the rest of the day." The house elf gave him an indignant look. "I mean it, Kreacher. That's an order. You are to do no more cooking or cleaning today. Do you understand?" Harry crouched to his level and looked him in the eye. Kreacher adamantly shook his head.
"Kreacher does not rest, Master. It is a house elf's first duty to serve the house to which he is bound."
"It's not up for discussion, Kreacher. If I find out you have done any work around the house today, I will be most displeased." Harry studiously hardened his gaze. Kreacher looked to Draco, hopefully. Harry rolled his eyes.
"You heard Master Harry, Kreacher. Go to your cupboard and stay there. Period," Draco said, firmly. The old elf gave in, and hanging his head, he trudged from the room even more slowly than he had entered. Harry sat down on the bed beside Draco.
"Do you think he's ill?" he asked. "He's so old!"
"I don't know. I've honestly never seen a sick house elf, but then Dobby and Pippy were so young."
"You had more than one elf?" Harry looked surprised.
"Have you not seen Malfoy Manor?" Draco gave him an exasperated look. Harry rolled his eyes again and stood to finish dressing. "We have at least one elf at each of our residences. Before Dobby defected, there were three at The Manor, Dobby, his sister Pippy, and Tickety, who came to the house just before Dobby left." Draco held Harry's Auror robes for him to slip into, gently smoothing them out and adjusting the badge pinned to his lapel. "Don't look at me like that. It's tradition. At least for the Malfoys, but you can clearly see that Mimi isn't treated the way Lucius treated our elves."
"Yeah. I wonder what Kreacher would make of her clothes," said Harry. "She and Kreacher would get along like a house on fire."
"I shall ask mother if she might have an idea if it's anything serious." Draco fussed with Harry's hair until he grimaced and batted his hands away. "Hopeless!" Draco tsked. He shepherded Harry towards the door. "You're going to be late," he said.
"I'm already late," Harry replied, leaning in for a kiss. Draco obliged him with a peck on the cheek. "How about I bring takeaway out to Spinner's End?"
"That sounds like a novel idea. You know, Mother has never had pizza!"
"Well, then pizza it is! I'll send a patronus if I'm running late." Harry kissed Draco once more and dashed for the floo.
Seconds later, Harry was regretting his hasty exit. He hadn't thought to use the apparition point and was now blinded by camera flashes as he stepped into the atrium at the Ministry of Magic.
"Harry! Harry! Is it true that Lucius Malfoy poisoned his wife? Harry! Harry! How did you find Draco Malfoy? Where has he been hiding? Harry! Was Draco in on the plot to kill his mother? Where is Narcissa now? Harry! Harry! How did Lucius lose his arm? Harry! Why wasn't Draco arrested?" the reporters shouted over one another, crowding Harry as he attempted to make his way to the security checkpoint.
"No comment! I have no comment right now! I cannot—Silencio Maxima!" Harry shouted. The voices of the reporters were suddenly silenced as if he'd pressed the 'mute' button on a television remote. The journalists backed down and angrily glared at him. "Enough! You all know very well that I cannot comment on a case pending before the Wizengamot! I can only say that Lucius Malfoy was arrested on charges of intent to cause grievous bodily harm to Narcissa Malfoy, use of an Unforgivable Curse, and attempted bribery of a Ministry Official. Any other information regarding the case must be obtained from Wizengamot Administration Services. Good day!" Harry pushed his way through the throng of reporters to the security desk and checked in. Once he was beyond the golden gates, he lifted the spell and strode to the lifts with a huff. When he exited on level 2, he was once again accosted, this time by several of his colleagues in the DMLE.
"Is it true?" asked Abel Proudfoot, a senior Auror. "Do you reckon the charges will stick?"
"Of course the charges will stick!" Ron interjected. "Why wouldn't they?"
"His legal team will question the fact that you testified for him after the war, and now you're arresting him again," said Proudfoot.
"Let them. I stand behind what I said then. I stand behind what my testimony will be this time." Harry made his way to the investigation department on the other side of the squad room and the office that he shared with Ron, enduring the pats on the back, handshakes and curious stares. He let out a sigh when he finally reached his desk, grateful to see that Ron had deposited a cup of coffee on his desk. He didn't fancy wading back into the fray just for a fresh jolt of caffeine. Ron entered a few moments later and sat down at his own desk, propping up his feet as he took a long sip of coffee.
"So, what happened? How'd Lucius end up losing his arm?"
Harry cast a privacy spell and detailed how Draco ended up taking a portkey into the maze.
"You know how my plans always seem to turn out," said Harry. "I'd expected Lucius to come to me again and try to bribe me, but I had no idea that Draco would wind up trapped in the maze and accidentally tip him off. Naturally, when I confronted him, he tried to do a runner. I've got to hand it to Draco and Narcissa. They anticipated this and trapped him in his own house. Narcissa is quite the skilled duelist!" he exclaimed. "That's what did him in. He took on all three of us as if he was simply exercising his wand hand. She slashed his face and he went straight for the Cruciatus Curse. Well, you can imagine that Draco was having none of that. He took the arm clean off with Sectumsempra. I don't know if he meant to take his wand arm, or actually kill him, but I can imagine you'd do the same if someone came after Molly." Harry sipped his coffee.
"No, I wouldn't," Ron replied.
"Aw, come on, Ron! What would you do? A disarming spell?" Harry looked at him incredulously. Ron scoffed.
"That's your bailiwick, mate. If anyone were to come after Mum, they're getting the killing curse."
"Of course. I should have known better." Ron raised his mug, and Harry tapped it with his own.