A Gift For Harry
Rating: I would have to say T, just cause...
Spoilers? Possibly, depends on how you look at it, but nothing specific, nothing crucial and nothing that will really spoil the book.
Warnings: Sad fic! I have had a couple of people tell me they almost cried.
Author's Notes: Was originally posted as a Challenge fic for the July Challenge on the Hex files. This story was Beta'd by the Great and Wondrous Amy! And without further ado, on to the fic
His mum, Narcissa Malfoy, had obviously been completely mad. Draco had known that from the time he was old enough to figure out that there was no Hedgehog Fairy who, two weeks after the first blue moon of the year, would travel through the night in long, ancient underground tunnels. He would pop up above ground, looking for children who hadn't interfered in the delicate balance of the creatures and plants that lived outside, and would bring them gifts of games to be played indoors, or, depending on their age, possibly a broom so that they wouldn't have to touch the ground.
Quite simply, it was just Narcissa's way of rationalizing the reasons for buying things for both her beloved son and her husband. If she was going to give a gift, there was going to be a reason. Draco had never bothered to find out why this was. It could be that Lucius had at some point told her that she was spending too much on her infant son, and if she wanted to get Draco something, it could only be on special occasions, or maybe his grandfather had something to do with it. If it was his dad, he had given up on curtailing her spending habits and now celebrated every made up holiday with even more enthusiasm than any of the traditional ones.
Christmas was met by the older Malfoy's with a stern face and sighs at obligatory balls and parties for friends and business associates. But Quidderstitch Day, which took place on the 23rd of June, would always be rung in with the traditional parade through the house, searching every room for presents left by the oldest and most mischievous house elf in all the world, Quidderstich. His mum had confided in a wide-eyed little boy that she believed that the house elf went around giving presents because of a loyalty to his previous owner, the great wizard Merlin himself, who had never given him clothes. He, Narcissa surmised, had gone a bit barmy upon his master's death and began wandering the land in search of a new, true master to call his own. Then, dressed in a bit of tattered towel, he would give expensive gifts to any family that had loyally kept their house elves in their service.
Each holiday was observed exactly as his mother had originally laid out the ground rules for it. So some holidays were missed due to inappropriate behavior. Indeed, it was a sad year when they were passed over on Quidderstich day.
One of his most favorite Narcissa-days as he had taken to calling these made up holidays, was a day in late July, where the gift given was a symbol of great affection, a day that made Valentine's Day pale in comparison. After all, what did Valentine's Day have to offer? Chocolate? Poems? Stupid little cards that had next to no meaning as hundreds of similar notes had been sent, often times to the same person? It was all too sickly and sappy for him; he wasn't much of one for flowers, and even worse at receiving chocolates. Draco had long since equated any type of chocolate with a treatment for when something bad happened. In any case, he didn't feel it was a suitable expression of love to give someone a box of the stuff. Would one of the stupid, simpering girls that always mooned over him be happy at receiving a first aid kit from Draco? He thought not.
He had always watched with envy as his parents exchanged their gifts, and then kissed in a loving way, and had wanted that for himself. Not that he wanted his parents, he wasn't that twisted, but he wanted that depth of love and devotion. His parents were in death as they had been in life: together. Buried in an unmarked grave on Malfoy property, having been killed during the last battle, protecting their son. The Ministry was still looking for them.
Draco frowned at the tightness of his throat. It was still too new. His parents hadn't even been dead two months. He shifted the box he held in his hands. It was round and about the size of a dinner plate, as long as the plate was around 10 centimetres thick. If there was one thing he regretted about all of the decisions he had made thus far, it was that his parents had never gotten to know his love, Harry Potter. A close second would have been that he had never informed them of his defection, and its result: becoming a spy for the Order of the Phoenix. He also would have told anyone who would listen, and everybody else just for good measure, that he was the official boyfriend of the Boy Who Lived. This secrecy crap was completely ridiculous, although it had seemed like the best thing when they started.
He glanced impatiently at the wall-clock. He and Harry had a date, at one o'clock sharp, and it was not to be missed. Part of him felt more then a little grumpy about the fact that he had to be penciled in to see his lover, but it was still too soon after the death of Voldemort, and Harry was the savior of the Wizarding World. Soon enough they would have more time together, once everything died down.
Eventually one o'clock came and Draco apparated to go and see his love. He arrived in a specially-designed receiving room, one that had a very big, magic resistant door with lots of complex locks. It was installed so that Harry wouldn't get 'unwelcome' visitors popping in. An older, graying man, with a large paunchy stomach and a rapidly receding hairline, greeted Draco.
"Mr. Malfoy, how wonderful it is to see you again." The man said, his tone clearly stating otherwise. "I do have a bit of bad news though… We could only clear you for an hour of time; things have just been crazy what with his birthday coming up and all. Don't worry though; I am sure that more time will pop up sooner or later."
Draco gritted his teeth and grated out something that sounded close to "Fine." He then glared at the man until all of the locks were undone and the door stood open.
Draco walked in with an air of superiority that soon vanished as the door closed behind him. "Hello, love," he began, as he walked into the room, his voice almost a whisper, as if he was afraid to disturb the Golden Boy. "I just came to give you this and spend some time with you." He indicated the box in his hands and glanced around the room. "I'll just set it over here on this table near your other cards and presents, okay?"
Draco hadn't realized how hard this was going to be. Harry wasn't even looking at him. Maybe if he spoke louder, "I visited Mum and Dad today, gave them their presents as well." Draco saw Harry's head move slightly and he took it as a sign to continue with his story. "Only theirs wasn't real. It was only an illusion, which will vanish at midnight. Can't have their gift's rotting at their grave now can we? Might attract attention."
Draco sat awkwardly for a moment as he watched Harry; he had never felt so alone in the presence of his love before. He fought back the tears now brimming in his eyes and choked on the lump in his throat. He couldn't do it. It was too hard right now; he would try again later, when he could get more time cleared from Harry's schedule.
"I have to go now Harry, but I will be back as soon as I can, I promise," Draco said, leaning over and kissing Harry Potter's blank face. "I love you…" He drew back and looked into the staring eyes. A choked sob burst from Draco's mouth, and tears spilled from his eyes as he ran to the door, pounding on it until it opened, and apparated away from Harry Potter's private room in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies.
Hermione Granger opened the curtains of Harry's room, smiling as the sun hit her face.
"Good morning Harry!" She exclaimed in a voice that could rival the sun for its brightness. "Or should I say, Happy Birthday!"
She almost skipped over to the bed and 'helped' her best friend to sit, propped up against the headboard of his bed. She watched as his eyes blinked slowly, more of an automatic response like breathing than a sign of Harry coming back to them. "Now then, Harry, you will be able to see all of the lovely gifts that people sent to you. Won't he Ron?" Hermione looked over at her fiancé and frowned. "Ron, you were supposed to wait till Harry was situated before you began to open his presents."
"Oh come on 'Mione, it was only a couple of books, I reckon ones you bought him, not like he'd want to read them just yet, anyway." He said guiltily turning his back on the table.
"Ronald Weasley! I cannot believe that you just said something so insensitive in front of Harry!"
Ron had the decency to look ashamed for a moment. "We can't bring him back 'Mione. You heard what the doctors said about his curse. Only someone with either a parental bond or a lover can bring Harry back from… wherever he went." He turned to the presant-laden table again and absently poked through the cards and packages. "Do you reckon we did the right thing by not letting that part of his curse out to the public?" Ron asked, in an almost offhand sort of way.
"We all agreed it would be for the best. The absolute frenzy that would have resulted with people claiming to be Harry Potter's lover would have been horrible, and I just know that Harry would simply die from embarrassment the moment he woke up and got wind of what happened." She sat carefully on the bed and ran her fingers though Harry's messy hair. "Besides we don't even know if he had a girlfriend. All we really know is that he said he gave his invisibility cloak to someone, to protect them during the final battle."
Ron nodded sagely, "Not much to go on…" He opened a few more boxes before pausing and chuckling lightly. "Hey 'Mione… look at this!"
The brainy witch looked up tiredly, her enthusiasm apparently sapped away. Ron was pointing at something on the table. "Some nutter sent Harry a cheesecake…with writing on it." He picked up the box and peered closer at the medium-sized script handwriting. "Happy Cheesecake Day Harry. I Will Love You Always. Forever Yours, ACO." Ron sniggered lightly under his breath, and almost dropped the box when Hermione suddenly appeared by his side.
"Do you know what this is Ron?" She asked in awe, as she pulled the cheesecake from his fingers. "This is the best clue we have to figuring out who Harry's mystery girlfriend is. A. C. O. is most likely her initials! Now all we have to do is figure out who that could be…" And with that, she turned and left, muttering under her breath as she walked into the apparating room.
"How'd you come to that conclusion?" Ron asked, mystified, as he followed his obviously cracked girlfriend out the door of Harry's room.
Neither noticed the tears that had begun falling from Harry's eyes when Ron had read the message on the cheesecake. Harry's body tipped over and fell to the floor with a rather loud sounding 'thunk', then, in a slow drawn out process, not unlike watching a flower close for the night, he curled into a little ball, the first major voluntary movement the Boy Who Lived had made in almost two months.
Draco's visit had pulled him back a little, but it wasn't enough. It was like giving a person dying of dehydration only an ounce of water: good but he needed more, lots more. He would always need more of Draco. Harry wished with all his heart that his beloved blond Slytherin would be back soon.