Chapter 13 – Ultimatums

Draco stretched lazily on the chaise in his sitting room, enjoying the morning sun as it shined through the arched window. Sunlight in England was a rare treat, and one he planned to enjoy on a Saturday morning without Scorpius to interrupt him.

Draco's head was lightly buzzed. After apparating back to the manor the previous night, he had helped himself to a few drinks whilst contemplating the evening. The sheer anger he had felt at Weasley's confession combined with the heady warmth of Potter's admission and the following argument had left him exhausted.

Harry Potter was an exasperating, emotionally stunted wreck, Draco had decided at some point after his fourth drink. The man was clearly untrusting, leery of friendship and hesitant to believe that anyone would want to help him without an ulterior motive. Draco knew the wizard had been through trauma that he himself couldn't imagine, losing his entire family, godfather and best friends to the war. He knew that any kind of relationship with Potter would have to be built slowly, taking time and patience. He also knew he'd be a fool to become involved with a man that not only had trust issues, but that he himself had such a troubled history with.

And yet.

Draco couldn't shake the feeling of hope that had bloomed in his chest when he had heard Harry's confession to Longbottom. It was hope he hadn't felt since Potter defeated the Dark Lord, and he and his family had finally been freed from the death sentence hanging over their heads. He hadn't felt that feeling at any stage during his relationship with Astoria, despite the respect he held for her. He certainly hadn't felt it when his Mother announced his betrothal, or even on his wedding day.

No, Draco mused, as much as the wizard was a complete fool, he would not allow that feeling to slip away once more. He had spent his entire life trying to live up to the Malfoy name and made many sacrifices to restore his family to a respectable social level. His own happiness had always been secondary. He had an heir and an established career, and he was now willing to indulge a new challenge.

That didn't mean he was going to make it easy on Potter, however.

Draco extended his legs on the chaise, his ashy hair falling into his eyes. He had slept well with the aid of his bottle of scotch and knew very shortly he would need to cast a sobering charm but was enjoying the feeling whilst it lasted. He had spent a lot of time reflecting the evening before, on what life for Harry Potter must have been like without the hatred of his youth clouding his thoughts. He had realised that although Potter had of course been stupid and foolhardy in his actions as a teenager, his thoughtless deeds had reeked of desperation – desperation of not being alone or losing the few loved ones he had.

Draco didn't know much about Harry but knew he had been raised by disgusting muggles and had lost both his godfather when he was fifteen. The thought was unfathomable; to have lost the closest thing to family that Potter had, three times over when Remus Lupin had also passed away. Draco felt for the first-time sympathy for a younger Potter, which he now reflected had to be filled with immense grief and trauma.

Potter might not even be capable of loving after all he had been through, but Draco was nonetheless determined to peel his secrets from him one by one and see what lay beneath.

A short time and a strong coffee later, Draco made his way to his room and dressed casually in black trousers and a collared blue shirt which he kept rolled to his wrists – he didn't want to start the morning with Potter getting an eyeful of the Mark. He brushed his hair and teeth, splashing his face with water to bring colour to his pale complexion. He knew he was an attractive man and exuded power which made him smirk at his own reflection – let Harry try to resist him, he thought to himself.

As he made his way through the doors to his parlour after calling Beeky to attend to his room, he felt the wards to the manor shift in recognition of a Malfoy approaching. Scorpius, he assumed, striding purposefully towards down the long hallway. Which meant that Potter would be with him.

Anticipation curled in Draco's stomach as he made his way regally towards the door. He smoothed his shirt almost absent-mindedly as a strong knock reverberated from the foyer. He had been expecting Potter to be tentative, and the force behind his knock pleased Draco.

He didn't plan to give anything away regarding his own intentions, and so it was with a cold face that Draco opened the heavy doors to reveal two very excited boys and an exhausted wizard. Draco had to fight back a smile as he studied the scene – both boys held one of Potter's hands in their own and were excitedly jabbering back and forth. He was impressed to note that both boys were dressed in clean clothes and looked as bouncy as usual.

"Uncle Harry took us to get waffles!" Teddy proclaimed excitedly as Draco moved forward to give Scorpius a hug. "I had mine with strawberries and Scorpius had his with Nutella!"

"Did you indeed?" Draco drawled, raising an eyebrow at the other man. He didn't know what Nutella was, but he trusted Potter wouldn't feed his son anything dangerous. Any fears were eased as Scorpius smiled at him shyly. "Chocolate, Daddy. It was yummy."

"Hmm." Draco didn't make it a habit to allow his son to eat sugary breakfasts, but he figured a one-off treat wouldn't hurt. Harry's shoulders relaxed when Draco merely smiled at his son, before Teddy was tugging his hand away from Harry's. "Mister Malfoy, can we go play in Teddy's bedroom?" His hair was bright purple today, and Draco did smile slightly at his exuberance.

"I fail to see why not," he responded to the boy softly. He winced as Teddy let loose a holler, pulling his son down the hallway in his wake. Lord knows what his Mother would think.

"Really Potter, that boy needs to learn better manners." He scolded, turning to study the wizard. He almost instantly regretted the snobbish way the words had come out – he was intending it as a joke, but he needed to work on his tone, and he suspected Potter hadn't seen the humour in his words. The wizard had deep bags under his green eyes and his hair was as unruly as ever, but it was the way he held himself that concerned Draco. His shoulders were hunched in a manner like a kicked dog, as if he expected an attack at any moment. His magic was roiling in disturbance and Draco fully expected him to react volatilely.

Harry didn't fail him. He snorted, eyes flashing in sudden anger. "Raise an orphan on your own Malfoy, then come and give me parenting tips."

Draco held his hands up in surrender. He truly hadn't meant for the morning to start in this manner. "My apologies," he responded, the words sounding stiff on his lips. "I only meant that he runs around like a little hooligan." He allowed a small smile to soften his words, showing the other man he had meant no harm with his words.

Harry studied him suspiciously. Draco again reflected that his words the night before had been spot on – Potter's eyes roved his as if he was expecting a knife in the ribs at any moment. He was tense and jumpy, and Draco knew he had to do something to put Harry at ease before his magic lashed out for him. Ignoring the surprised gasp, Draco reached out to take Harry's hand in his own.

"Come," he commanded the wizard gently. "I think you and I have a lot to discuss."

It was the solarium which Draco chose to host Potter in, the brightness of the sun warming the space into something welcoming. It was noticeably hotter, and Draco instinctively made to roll up his sleeves before pausing, letting his arms drop as he remembered Potter's reaction some weeks before.

"What are you doing?"

Draco glanced at Harry, surprised to find the man's eyes on him. Or more importantly, his left arm. Feeling slightly uncomfortable, Draco shrugged one shoulder at the question. "What do you mean?" He asked, his tone lofty.

"Roll your damn sleeves up Malfoy, it's your house."

Draco's lip curled slightly at Potter's tone. He was being abrupt and rather uncultured. "I believe in a thing called manners, Potter," he sneered. "I believe they are something that may have quite escaped you."

"Oh, on about manners again," Potter scoffed, finally raising those tired eyes to meet Draco's. He didn't flinch but did wince internally. Potter appeared so very exhausted it was painful to look at, his scars standing out boldly against his pale face. "I'm sure you'd be much less stressed if you stopped worrying so much about appearances all the bloody time."

"That's rich, coming from you." Draco's tone was soft and he didn't allow Harry to look away, his grey eyes boring into green. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you care overly for what others think of you also. Why else hide away from the world for so long?"

The question was rhetorical, but Harry sighed and sank into an ornate chair. "I suppose it's the least I owe you after last night," he began, closing his eyes. "I simply couldn't handle the world after Ginny, and the Weasleys. I couldn't deal with anyone else turning on me because of the shit they read about me, or because they've heard something that doesn't fit their image of me." Harry's tone was utterly acerbic, bitter and dark. "My life isn't owned by the wizarding world. I did my part. I just want to be left alone."

Draco mused in the silence following Potter's words. He could understand the desire for privacy better than anyone. "So why let others dictate the way you live your life?" He asked, his voice genuinely curious.

"Because I was too weak to bear what they wrote about me, myself," Harry responded despondently. "Because somehow, facing Voldemort was easier than the court of public opinion."

Draco scoffed, breaking the sudden melancholic vibe in the room. "Only Harry Potter would rather face Voldemort than a reporter," he muttered under his breath. "Fool of a Gryffindor." There was no heat in his words, and Harry smiled slightly despite his mood.

The two men fell into an awkward silence, which Draco broke by snapping his fingers. Beeky immediately appeared with his summons.

"Two coffees," Draco ordered, glancing at Harry briefly. "Milk?"

Harry only nodded his head, murmuring a thank you to the elf before she disappeared. Draco merely frowned at him but refrained from commenting. He didn't say a word until Beeky appeared a short time later with two steaming mugs, which Draco gratefully accepted.

Draco knew he had never been the brave one. He hadn't been brave when he allowed Voldemort to burn the mark into his skin at sixteen, hadn't been any braver when at seventeen he had fled the Battle of Hogwarts with his family, and it was a trait that certainly hadn't developed as he aged. It was no surprise then that Potter, always the recklessly brave one, dived headlong into the uncomfortable conversation the two wizards had been avoiding.

"So, at what point did you stop wanting to kill me?"

Draco half smiled. Potter had picked up right where their conversation had left off the evening before. Stupidly brave man. "I never wanted to kill you."

Potter scoffed. "As if."

Draco arched one eyebrow at Harry. "It's true, you know. I had every opportunity to turn you over to the Dark Lord." He frowned slightly at the memory and noted absently that Potter flinched slightly as well. "And yet, I didn't do so."

"Why not?" Potter asked bluntly.

Draco signed. The intricacies of delicate conversation were lost on the other man – Potter barged into conversation like the muggle phrase 'bull in a china shop.' "Believe it or not, Potter, I didn't particularly want to destroy the one hope of escaping the Dark Lord," he responded, twisting his words with a slight sneer. "I was well aware by that point that it was only a matter of time before my Mother and Father would have been killed, or I'd have been killed myself."

"For not following his orders?" Harry murmured; gaze distant.

"Indeed. I wasn't able to kill, you see." Draco confessed to the wizard, the words lead in his mouth.

"I know."

"How could you possibly know?" Draco responded scornfully, his voice condescending. "You have no idea how close I came to dying those few years."

"I was there," Harry responded softly. "At the Astronomy Tower." At Draco's dumbfounded, horrified expression he was quick to explain. "Under my invisibility cloak. Dumbledore stunned me, I couldn't move. I saw everything."

Draco's stomach plummeted through his feet. That evening remained one of the worse experiences of his life, the memories haunting his nightmares incessantly to this very day. To think that Potter of all people had been there to witness his near miss at turning into a killer churned his stomach. In a very unbecoming fashion, his eyes dropped and he turned his head childishly away from Harry.

He still carried extreme guilt over his involvement in Dumbledore's death the old fool, and couldn't understand why Harry was sitting here with him now after having witnessed such a thing. He let out an embarrassing yelp as warm fingers touched his wrist, surprising him.

"Dumbledore was dying." Harry's voice had taken on a soft, warm tone. "He and Snape had agreed when the time came, that Snape would end his suffering. I'd fed him poison that evening, if anyone is responsible for his weakness it was me."

Draco yanked his arm from Potter's fingers, standing abruptly. His world felt like it had tilted suddenly, years of anger and shame blowing away like a leaf in the wind. Potter remained silent as he took several long minutes to process what he had just heard, finally taking a deep breath and turning to face the other man who was again picking at the hem of his robes.

"What on earth did you need to feed him poison for?" Draco's voice was measured and gave no indication of his inner turmoil.

Potter looked up then, green eyes meeting his own. They were full of secrets, and a not so subtle apology. "I can't," he replied gently, as if begging Draco to understand. "Not yet. Not now."

Hmm. For all his posturing, Potter didn't yet trust him, not completely. He didn't blame the man a bit really, he himself was cautious by nature and there were secrets of his own he wouldn't trust Potter with. Not yet, anyway. Exactly as Potter had intimated.

A frown formed on his flawless face as he considered the words. Not yet implied that one day, maybe, Potter might share the more intricate details of his life with Draco. But not yet also carried the implication of a deeper relationship, of which Draco still had to address some concerns.

Dropping the line of questioning, Draco continued to press Potter for information. "Why did you think I'd turn on you when I found out about your sexuality?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "People couldn't even accept me for who I was when I was the saviour of the wizarding world," he sneered. "My own best friends turned on me the first chance they got. Why would someone I didn't know, someone who hated me once, be any different?"

Potter's words helped Draco to understand what his own inner monologue had not been able to. It wasn't that Harry didn't trust Draco, it was that he had trust issues in general and the comment about him being gay was only a small part of the issue. With a sense of foreboding, Draco realised that Potter was not yet ready for a relationship, something serious with any other human being. And whilst Draco was all for a bit of fun, something about his relationship with this wizard warned him that Harry wasn't one to toy with, or mess around with. If he was going to even consider pursuing Potter, the man had to solve his own issues.

He pushed down the warmth of arousal that came with the thought. If Harry couldn't even accept himself, he would never accept somebody else into his life. Draco didn't like to give ultimatums, but he was certainly not going to play with his own or his son's life. Anybody he trusted enough to bring into Scorpius' life had to be a stable, consistent influence and at the moment Potter was as flighty as an owl.

"Potter, I like you." Draco was blunt. "But I need to be honest with you." He watched as the man's face fell at his words. "You aren't ready for a relationship. You can't even go into public without worrying what people will think of you. How is that fair to yourself, or to Scorpius and I if we were to try this thing?" He gestured between the two of them.

"I can do better," Potter murmured, reminding Draco very much of a younger version of himself. Always seeking to please others, always doing things that others expected of him simply because that is how he had been conditioned to think. No, that simply would not do.

"Harry, you need to do better for you, not for me or anyone else," Draco responded softly. He stood to face the large windows, feeling the bite of the sun on his pale face. "I'm going to make you a deal," Draco was testing the words before he said them aloud. "If you can face your fear of the public, we can consider seeing where this attraction between us leads." His mother would have been proud at the deadpan tone he used.

Unfortunately, Harry wasn't so appreciative of his emotionless tone. He felt the man's magic stir. "Of course," the other man spat bitterly, "force me into something I dread without even a guarantee at the end of it. Stupid me, always being strung along for the ride."

Draco's face twisted in anger, warping his beautiful features. Before he stopped to think about what he was doing, he reached out and roughly yanked Harry out of his seat towards him, ignoring the dangerous rush of uncontrolled magic that pressed against him like a second skin. "Here's your damn promise," he snarled before twisting his hands angrily in inky black hair and crashing his lips to Harry's.

The kiss wasn't gentle or loving, as a first kiss should be. No, Draco would later reflect that it was less a kiss than a battle for control. Initially caught off guard, Harry's warm lips soon began to move against his own roughly, the other man growling against his mouth. Harry's hands gripped his hips hard enough to bruise as he forcefully pressed back against Draco, his strong body all hard angles and flat planes against Draco's own, hinting at the muscular frame beneath. Draco's hands roved to his back and stole under the shirt he was wearing, leaving marks as his nails scratched his displeasure into Potter's back.

Almost as soon as it began however, the desperate contact was over. It was Harry who pulled back, green eyes glittering dangerously in the morning sunlight. Draco took a single second to admire the sight – Harry's face was flushed and his chest heaving, his eyes vibrant despite their anger, his hair mussed. He looked more alive than Draco had ever seen him, and yet Draco wasn't sure if the man was going to hit him as he glared furiously at Draco.

Draco glanced away in shame. He had allowed his usually impeccable self- control to slip for a single second and had lost his senses in front of his former enemy of all people. He refused to apologise though; it would be a cold day in hell before he said the words to Potter. A thick, tense silence permeated the room once more.

Finally, Harry let out a small chuckle. Draco was so startled at the sound that he jumped slightly. "Well. That was interesting."

"Indeed," Draco responded, his tone cold.

"Oh, shove off, Malfoy." Harry turned to face him, eyes calm but body still rigid. "You started that."

"And you finished it," Draco replied. He ran a hand through his blonde hair, heedless of his appearance for once. "Look, I didn't mean – "

"Don't apologise," Harry cut him off, his tone hard. "Don't apologise for showing emotion to me."

Draco realised with a jolt that his previous thoughts of Potter finding it hard to love others had been wildly inaccurate. The man was the exact opposite – he craved connection to others, but most likely found it difficult to become attached due to his losses. Smiling in a self- deprecating manner, he smiled at Potter, pleased to see the undamaged side of the man's face lift in response.

"I meant what I said, Harry. You can't have a relationship with someone until you are in a place where you are comfortable with yourself. I want you to get better for you, not for me." Draco held a slender hand up to halt the words that he was sure were about to pour from Harry's mouth. The boy he had been had certainly had a problem with drivelling. "If you can prove to me you are comfortable enough in yourself that you can face the world again, I promise," he emphasised the word, "I will give this thing between us a chance."

Harry opened and closed his mouth several times, and Draco patiently waited for him to speak. Finally, in a small voice he asked, "Can Teddy and I still continue to see you both if I can't?"

Draco was not a caring man, unless it involved someone he loved. He rarely felt sympathy for people and was very good at pretending he cared when he completely and truly did not. However, Potter must have been slowly worming his way into Draco's circle as his hardened heart cracked ever so slightly at the glimpse he had been given of the boy Harry had been, lonely and unloved.

"Potter you idiot," he responded roughly, "We don't need to be lovers to be friends."

Harry sneered ever so slightly, before standing slightly and reaching his arms upwards in a stretch. His shirt rode up as he did, exposing a smooth stomach that caused Draco's insides to clench. Draco kept his face stoic though, determined not to undermine his earlier words. "I think I'm going to show myself out," Harry told Draco, failing to meet his eyes. "I need some time to think." Draco didn't respond, instead waving his hand in a dismissive gesture as the wizard strode from the room.

Still, a small smile graced his lips as he heard Potter collect Teddy from down the hall, from the sounds of the conversation also giving Scorpius a hug and promising he could visit Teddy at any time. Potter was a good man, Draco mused, far better than he deserved. But nonetheless, Malfoy's were selfish creatures at heart and he would not compromise his or Scorpius' lives for Potter until he was confident the man would defend them both if required.

As Draco picked up a now lukewarm coffee, he reflected that he may have just pushed Potter away for good. However, as Scorpius scuttled into the sunlight a short time later and he felt a rush of love for his son, he could not feel regret for his to place the light of his life first, as all parents should.