Draco Malfoy and His Happily Ever After:
Author's Notes: This is the sequel to Draco Malfoy and His Unknown Fate which I recommend that you read before starting this. This is a Harry/Draco story. If you have any questions about the story or you just want to discuss something in it e-mail me. I'm always eager to hear what people think.
Warnings for this chapter: Language. Just a smidgeon of angst at the end.
Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to J.K. Rowling. I'm merely borrowing them for the time being. This is slash. Don't like it? Don't read it. Otherwise, enjoy.
The Dursleys were mean-spirited, prejudiced, and so unattractive that it was astonishing they were related at all to Harry. If all muggles were like the Dursleys it was no wonder Lucius wanted to wipe them all off the face of the planet. Really, the next time someone called him a witch he was going to give them boils. Their ignorance was appalling and tiresome, but when Draco attempted to correct them they went into a tizzy as soon as he said the word magic.
It was sort of ironic really. Their insistence that they were completely normal (no freakishness here thank you very much) was so vehement it actually made them unusual. Most people wanted to be at least a little unique, special if you would, but not the Dursleys. Different might as well have been a curse word with the way they wrinkled their nose at the concept.
Dudley didn't really care one way or another, but his gluttony and sheer stupidity more than made up for it. He was even bigger than Crabbe and he spent all day in front of what Harry had informed Draco was a computer, pounding away at various buttons as he tried to 'make level forty-seven', whatever that meant. All Draco knew was that strange clangs, whistles, screeches, and rumbling noises could be heard from Dudley's room at almost all hours of the day.
The house itself was fairly quiet, though in the afternoons Petunia always watched her soaps, filling the downstairs living room with voices from the 'tally' or whatever that box was called. Harry and Draco were pretty much left to their own devices. The two wizards spent a lot of time outdoors in the back yard, lazing about or just chatting with one another. When it they got too hot they went inside for lemonade and did their summer homework. Draco helped Harry with his Potions, mostly because Harry lacked any extra sources for his essay and Draco had plenty of potions books.
Three days or so had passed, leaving Draco restless and vaguely dissatisfied. He felt trapped in the house, but it was too warm outside to do anything interesting. With a sigh, he went inside Harry's room and sprawled out on the bed. The owl cages on the dresser were empty since Harry had let Hedwig and Grindylow out last night and they were still wandering about. They'd be back soon and they could look after themselves for the time being so Draco wasn't worried. Owls were notoriously intelligent creatures.
"How's the essay coming along?" Draco finally ventured, turning around so his head hung off the bed and the other boy appeared to be upside down.
Harry was hunched over his desk and he sent a scorching glare Draco's way. "Very, very slowly. I can't believe you already finished yours. It's impossible! Who cares how opossum tails react to sphinx fur? It's a bloody waste of time if you ask me." He jabbed his quill in Draco's direction before setting back down on the parchment and scribbling something out. "I mean, I'm never really going to have to know this! And if for some really weird reason I do, you'll be there to make the stupid potion for me."
Draco paused, suddenly flushed with warmth. Obviously Harry assumed their relationship would be a long-term one and the unexpected reassurance managed to soothe worries that had been niggling at his mind for some time. The relief he felt was acute and it took a moment for Draco to drag his mind back to the conversation. "Only if you ask nicely." He finally managed, sitting upright and shaking his head dizzily when the blood rushed back down to the rest of his body.
There is a moment of comfortable silence between them as Harry scratched out another line on his parchment, obviously wracking his brain for more ideas. A sudden screeching noise drew their attention to the window and Draco stood up to open it. A ragged ball of feathers careened into the room with another screech, zooming through the air and impacting with the wall. There was a thump as it landed on the floor. Draco inched forward cautiously to poke his toe at the thing.
"Is that an owl?" He asked, jumping back when it ruffled its feathers and flapped around to right itself again.
Harry sighed. "That's Errol."
"Weasley's bird, right? It looks half dead." Draco said snidely, amused at the owl's scruffy appearance. By all rights the poor bird should have been retired years ago. It was far too old to be delivering messages. Harry gave him a tired look and Draco arranged his features to look properly apologetic. "Ooh, he sent you a letter. Let's see it then." The Slytherin snatched it from the bird's leg and danced out of Harry's reach, opening it quickly.
"Hey, Mate!" Draco read out loud, mimicking Ron's enthusiastic tones. "Things here at the Burrow are as crazy as always! George and Fred set up a laboratory in their room and I swear, there's an explosion in there at least three times a day! Mum's going spare! Blah, blah, blah I'm a wanker, blah!" Draco ad-libbed, ducking under Harry's arm and scampering across the room so he could continue making fun of the Weasel in peace.
"Draco, give that back! Right now!" The blonde dodged a lunge and used Harry's desk chair to ward the other boy off, laughing all the while.
"Now, now! Patience is a virtue. Where was I? Oh, yes. Wanker, blah. He goes on about Granger and oh - what?" Draco switched back to his pseudo-Weasley voice. "Mum's inviting you and that git Malfoy to the Burrow. And by git, I mean devilishly handsome and charming bloke who I want to shag desperately - hey!"
Harry grabbed the letter and began reading it for himself silently. "There's nothing here about shagging you, thank god." He said finally, looking up from the parchment to give Draco an exasperated look.
"Oh, I forgot. That's just you, isn't it?" Draco said flirtatiously, waggling his eyebrows at the Gryffindor.
"Fuck off." Harry said mildly, turning back to his letter.
The Slytherin grinned and lowered his voice to smooth, sultry murmur. "Fuck off, you say? I'd much rather fuck you than fuck off, Harry." That managed to get a reaction and Draco was gratified to see the other boy blush slightly.
But he was smiling despite his flushed cheeks. "Draco! You're such a pervert."
And there was that scandalized tone Draco was so very fond of. "Ah, but I'm your pervert."
"Yeah, I guess you are." Another strange flush of warmth filled Draco's chest and he couldn't quite stop the fond glance he sent Harry's way. The Gryffindor, however, was oblivious as to how his words had affected the other boy. "I can't believe Mrs. Weasley invited you to the Burrow. I think she's decided to adopt you. You might even get a Weasley sweater this Christmas."
Draco silently scoffed at the very idea. No way in hell was he wearing one of those sartorial disasters. Still, he couldn't help but laugh, snickering to himself at the very thought. "Oh! Father would die to hear you say that. I bet all my ancestors are rolling in their graves. A Malfoy adopted by the Weasleys! It's mind-boggling."
"Mind-boggling, but nice. Mrs. Weasley's great. And she really does like you. She thinks you're sweet and handsome. It drives Ron up the wall."
"I bet." Draco said dryly. "At least she has good taste though."
"I wouldn't be too sure of that; She liked Lockhart too." Harry dodged the pillow Draco chucked as his head and pursued his letter once more, his eyes scanning the hastily scrawled lines. "The invitation's for the end of summer. Oh and apparently Percy's engaged to Penelope Clearwater."
Draco strode over to the window, suddenly bored again. There was only so much Weasley talk he could take after all. All at once, his good mood faded, draining away as fast as it had come. "He's the one who was Head Boy, right?" He asked, clearly disinterested.
"Yeah." Harry folded the letter up, gave Errol a treat, and took a seat at his desk again. Draco watched as the owl hopped up on the window sill and flapped away, slightly tipping to the right as he zigzagged down the street drunkenly. The blonde shook his head in bemusement at the odd picture. There was a short squeal of tires as a car swerved to avoid Errol and then the bird was truly airborne, beating his wings laboriously to stay upright. "Ginny must be using Pigwidgeon, I guess. Oh well, I hope Errol makes it back in one piece." Harry adjusted his glasses, both of them watching as the owl flew off into the distance.
Draco leaned his head against the window frame and looked out on the foreign muggle landscape. Everything was perfectly symmetrical and so very modern. For some reason, the sight made Draco feel melancholy. This place had no personality at all and Draco suddenly missed Hogwarts with a piercing poignancy that made his chest ache and his throat tighten. Quite simply, he was homesick. He'd give his right arm for a sip of pumpkin juice. Draco hated #4 Privet Drive with its stupid white walls and horribly small rooms. And the petty prejudice of Harry's relatives didn't help matters either. Frankly, Draco was sick of it all. He didn't understand how Harry could have tolerated it for so long.
The Gryffindor must have noticed something, Draco's sudden silence or the longing expression on his face, because he came up behind Draco and wrapped his arms around the slender boy tightly. The warm embrace made the homesickness a bit more bearable and the blonde relaxed against Harry, comforted by the gesture. "What's wrong?" Harry asked, all genuine concern and sympathy. He pressed a kiss to Draco's hair, nuzzling at the thin, fine golden strands.
"Nothing." Draco replied automatically, before thinking better of it. "I'm just - feeling a little out of place." Which was an understatement. He had no clue what half the machines in the house were for, Harry kept having to explain everything to him like he was a child, which was not only irritating, but embarrassing, the Dursleys hated him, and to top it all off Dudley kept eating all their dinner and leaving them with scraps. Even the threat of magic couldn't keep Pig Boy away from a prospective meal. And being forced to listen to his own stomach rumble as it attempted to digest itself was not exactly Draco's activity of choice. It was bad enough he had to be here at all. Was a little bloody food too much to ask for?
Harry's arms tightened around him reassuringly. "I know how that feels. It's only for two weeks, Draco. We'll survive."
Draco felt stupid for being such a fucking ponce about the whole thing, but on the other hand… it felt nice too. To have someone who was willing to hold him when he was feeling a bit depressed or when he just wanted a hug. It was a luxury Draco wasn't use to, but one he thought he could get to like. "I miss Hogwarts." He finally said after a long moment of silence, his voice unusually quiet and somber.
"Me too, Draco. Me too."
To Be Continued…
Constructive criticism and comments are more than welcome.
