The weekend passes in a blur of day drinking, lazing about, playing Monopoly (Draco wins again, this time while on a team with Harry) and swimming. Somehow Harry and Draco manage to keep Weasley and the others in the dark about their relationship. There are a couple of close calls, such as when Oliver bounds his way down the stairs at a faster clip than any human has any right to, and Draco all but falls down the next flight in his haste to be far enough away from Harry.
No one discusses the threesome that may or may not have happened on Friday night, though Pansy confides briefly in Draco that it most certainly did happen before Draco runs screaming from the room, lest she give him more details.
They share a lovely meal that Neville dubs a "family dinner" on Sunday night, using the dining room, rather than the kitchen to be, in Weasley's words, "fancy". Winky makes a shepherd's pie that Draco privately thinks isn't as good as Harry's. He doesn't say this out loud so as not to offend her but he does tell Harry later when they're in bed together.
And then the week is upon them again. Pansy decides they're going to tackle the bedrooms next, starting on the first floor and working their way up, so each room's occupants are summarily thrown out each morning while Pansy, Viktor, Draco and Harry strip the wallpaper, re-varnish the floors and other such and sundry tasks.
Draco shows Pansy the internet, and while she sneers at it, she does allow him to order new furniture to arrive post haste. She even deigns to use it by herself to order fabric for curtains and new bed linens.
"I wish I could see all this in person," she grouses, but as all the shops are still closed, she makes do. And really, when they arrive, they're at least close enough to what she had envisioned that she doesn't complain.
They finish Hannah and Neville's room after only a day and move on to Draco's on Tuesday. Draco is more than happy to tear down the faded wallpaper and put up long, birch panels along the wall behind the bed, while plastering and painting the remaining three white. The bed itself is also replaced. The four poster that had been there before is sent over to Malfoy Manor, where they have sent all the furniture that Harry no longer wants and that Narcissa might use. Harry's is the only bed they keep, though Pansy pares down the ornately carved posts into something a bit more sleek and modern.
The days blur into each other, and so Draco's surprised one morning when Weasley asks if they're going to spend the evening in the pool again.
"Is it Friday?" he asks. He frowns down into his tea (a nice black tea with chai spices).
"Yup."
"Then yes, I suppose we shall." Weasley punches the air in triumph and Draco drinks down the rest of his tea in one go before making second cup, because just one clearly isn't enough this morning.
…
"Ollie, we can't keep doing this," Draco hears Percy say, later that day. He pauses on his way down the stairs. He'd been on the rooftop patio watering the new (non-magical) plants that Neville had placed up there, and he doesn't want to interrupt what sounds like a serious conversation. Not only that, but a part of him is curious as to the nature of Percy and Oliver's relationship. He still has that Slytherin urge to know everything that's going on in case he can trade gossip for social capital.
"Doing what?"
"Falling into bed with each other." Well, that confirms that theory then. Draco wonders if anyone else has caught on to them yet.
"Then go out with me," Oliver says. Draco slowly eases himself down into a sitting position, aware that he might be here for a while.
"I can't. That's not what I meant," Percy snaps.
"Why not?"
"The Prophet would have a field day. You're a professional athlete and—"
"—So? Viktor is too," Oliver says. "And he flirts with everyone, regardless of who they are."
"That's different."
"How?"
"I don't know. He's European," Percy says and it's all Draco can do not to snort in amusement.
"We're European."
"He's from the continent," Percy snaps. "They're different over there." He has a point. The English are their own sort sort of repressed — British wizards particularly so.
"I don't think that has anything to do with it," Oliver persists.
"And he's not dating anyone. He's not out out."
"And? Why does this mean I can't be?"
"Think about your career."
"Perce, it'll be fine. The Prophet loves me."
"Don't be fucking absurd, Oliver," Percy snaps. "They may love you, but the press won't have anything nice to say about me. Not after what I did." Draco thinks this might be the first time he's ever heard Percy Weasley curse. It underscores the seriousness of his words.
"I'm not sure what you mean."
"Oh, how did they put it? I 'stood idly by while the world burned'. Or some such platitudes."
"But you didn't."
"Yes, I did. I bought into Fudge's bullshit and by the time I realized he was wrong, it was too late." The bitterness in Percy's tone makes Draco sit up straighter. He knows that feeling well.
"Perce, you did your job."
"Yes, and I should have quit once I learned the truth, but I was a coward." Though Draco can't see, he imagines that Percy is hanging his head.
"Did you think it was the right thing at the time?" Oliver asks after a beat.
"What?"
"Once you learned the truth, did you think you could affect change from the inside. Did you think you were at least one good person in a bad environment? Did you try to help people from within?" Percy is quiet for a long moment.
"Yes, but I didn't do nearly enough," he says finally. "I let Thicknesse get away with murder. Quite literally."
"You're not the only person who worked at the Ministry during that time, Perce," Oliver says quietly.
"But I was—"
"—I know. And I don't care."
"But—"
"—I still want to be with you." There's a long stretch of silence, punctuated only by the possible rustle of clothing, though it's hard for Draco to hear. It goes on for so long that he considers coming down the stairs but then Oliver speaks again, so he stays put. "We can keep this a secret. If that is what you wish."
"Thank you."
"But I'm still asking you out." There's a heavy sigh that Draco thinks comes from Percy.
"Fine."
"I'd have preferred a more enthusiastic response," Oliver says. "But I'll take what I can get."
"Sorry I—"
"—I get it." There's the sound of a kiss, followed by two sets of footsteps disappearing down the stairs. Draco exhales slowly and slumps sideways against the wall. That's a conversation he can see Harry and himself having about their relationship and dear Merlin, he never imagined he would be the Percy Weasley of anything, but he has to admit that he would be.
…
"How's the greenhouse coming along?" Harry asks Neville over dinner.
"Oh, Harry," Neville gushes. "It's brill. I can't thank you enough for letting me come and work on it."
"You're the one doing us a favor," Draco says. "I've forgotten all of my Herbology."
"Surely not everything," Pansy says, leaning forward to grab another piece of chicken from the platter in the middle of the table. "I'd bet you could still prune a fluttering amaranth if pressed." Draco scowls at her.
"If pressed," he allows.
"There are a few of them in the greenhouse," Neville says, his face breaking into a grin. "You can have a go with them if you like." Draco plasters on his best polite smile and demurs, claiming that the rest of the house is keeping him too busy. Which, on reflection, isn't that much of a lie. There's still a lot to do, even if most of the bedrooms are now finished.
"Coward," Pansy mutters and Draco sticks his tongue out at her.
"Are we," Percy starts to ask but then stops himself. Oliver nudges him and Percy twists his mouth to the side but nods at him. "Are we ever going to get the half naked women off of the walls of the room I'm staying in?" Draco laughs, but when he turns to look at Harry, he finds him frowning. Of course: it was his godfather's room.
"Um," he says. He's not meeting anyone's eye, but rather staring down at his dinner plate like it might help him answer the question. Draco wants desperately to reach out and take Harry's hand in order to comfort him, but everyone's there, so he can't. So instead he turns to Percy and says,
"They're vintage posters, so we're still evaluating whether or not to keep them for the aesthetic. Right, Pans?" Pansy shoots him a look. He stares back and lifts his eyebrows just enough that she understands his meaning.
"Yes," she says. "We thought keeping them might add a nice touch of nostalgia." Percy raises both of his eyebrows but thankfully lets the topic drop. Harry meets Draco's eye, and gives him a grateful smile. As if Draco wouldn't do anything to make him happy.
…
"Never have I ever had a threesome?" Draco hazards. He knows that he knows the answer, but he wants other people to share this burden of knowledge. Pansy, Viktor and Weasley all take sips of their drinks and Draco groans and sinks under the water (still keeping his drink aloft). Once he reemerges, Weasley shrugs and says,
"You brought it up."
"Please spare me the details," Draco says. He frowns as Viktor grins at him. It's a grin full of promise and Draco doesn't like it one bit. He starts making plans to run away from Viktor any time he starts talking.
"Do we not have any other games?" Hannah asks. "Not that Never Have I Ever isn't fun, but we did play this the other week."
"We could play Monopoly," Harry suggests.
"Not in the pool we can't," Draco says.
"Water polo," Oliver puts forward.
"Hard pass," Pansy says. "I'd rather play nothing at all."
After much deliberation, they end up putting Harry's iPod on shuffle and having a half pool, half dance party that starts to break apart as the bubbles in the pool start to pop. They drift, in groups of two or three, into the sitting room. Draco sets himself up by the wet bar and keeps everyone plied with drinks, chatting happily to Neville about mixology.
"With your potions skills," Neville says at one point. "I'm not surprised you're so good." Which makes Draco glow with pride.
He smiles as he looks around the room. In spite of the pandemic and being sequestered in this house, he finds he's actually quite happy. He thinks it helps that he's surrounded by people who make him happy. If his mother were here too, and perhaps Blaise and his family, it would be quite perfect. The itch to suggest buying the house off of Harry comes back, but as it seems as though Harry might keep the house, he doesn't want to push the man out.
But maybe, just maybe, Harry might let him stay. He's getting ahead of himself though, so he turns his attention instead to teaching Neville how to make a Negroni, which is the easiest drink he can think of.
Neville takes to it like a duck to water. Draco wonders whether it is because he's far less intimidating than the late Potions' Master or if it's because potion making is often a lot more ambiguous than cocktail making.
"Really?" Neville asks. "You stir this thirty times?" Draco nods. "Does it matter which direction I go in?"
"Absolutely not."
"Brill." Once he's done stirring, Neville lifts the glass to his mouth and takes a sip. "That's quite nice," he says.
"Drink up," Draco says. "Once you're done with that, I'll teach you how to make a boulevardier."
"A what?"
"It's the same thing, only with bourbon instead of gin."
"One to one to one?"
"Exactly."
"Are all muggle cocktails that way?"
"Unfortunately not. Just wait 'til I teach you the Ramos gin fizz," Draco says, smirking at Neville's confused face.
"Did you say Ramos gin fizz?" Pansy calls from the other side of the sitting room. Draco grimaces before plastering a grin on his face.
"Yes," he says, resigned to his fate.
"Can I have one?"
"Only because it's you, Pans," he says. "You're in luck, Nev. You get to watch me shake this for at least a minute." Neville's eyes go wide. He watches intently as Draco starts adding ingredients to a shaker.
"An egg?"
"Egg white," Draco says and proceeds to separate it, adding the white to the shaker and dropping the yolk down the sink.
"Cream?"
"Cream," Draco confirms, adding half an ounce.
"Blimey, this seems complicated. Perhaps I'm not cut out for this after all."
"Don't be daft. Can you follow instructions?"
"Yes."
"Then you can make cocktails." Draco adds the last thing to the shaker with a flourish and then slaps the top on it and starts to shake.
"Ta, darling," Pansy says when he places it down in front of her, five minutes later.
"Can I have one?" Weasley asks.
"Yes," Neville says excitedly from his spot by the bar. "I'll make it!" He then goes on to exceed all expectations and makes Weasley an outstanding Ramos gin fizz, which leaves Draco feeling oddly proud.