These characters are not mine (thanks to JKR).
Harry and Draco
Stopping on the roadside, directly in front of the house that now belonged to him. Harry looked from side to side at houses on the same side of the street, both certain and yet unsre, that this was indeed his house. He had been here only once before, years ago with Hermione Granger when they had stood in what was possibly the same spot looking at perhaps the same house. At that time the house had stood in complete ruins damaged by Voldemort in the murder of Harry's parents and the attempted murder of himself, 20 odd years before. The house had been effectively destroyed and because the family had been likewise virtually annihilated, there had been no one left to tend to the damage. And so it had remained, so Harry had expected to find it, but clearly he was wrong.
His mouth gaped a little, his eyes narrowed as he tried to identify some feature of the home his parents had lived in, but it looked different. Entirely different. Standing back, Harry noticed the veritable transformation, in the midst of the former bomb site, stood a handsome, yet modest, comfortable looking, new house. The second floor portion must have been almost entirely rebuilt, the structure of the walls and windows, new roofing, the whole front of the house had obviously been newly repaired and painted and the little front garden had been landscaped. A couple of older trees had been retained, although they had been trimmed back, and provided shelter from the snow, and some newer hedge type shrubs and flowers that Harry didn't care to know the names of. The gate which had hung at an awkward angle, by a single broken hinge had not been replaced, but repaired, re-hung securely on two shiny new brackets and freshly painted.
Having just now returned to the wizarding world after a long absence, Harry's idea had been to return to the home of his parents and make it into a home of his own. He had fully expected to find it as he had left it, uninhabitable and intended to secure the least damaged corner of the building which could serve as some form of shelter and hopefully warmth for a night or two, whilst he looked into getting it repaired. But it seemed someone had beaten him to it, this was not a quick patch job, either. After all this time somebody had given the old house the attention it had so desperately required but who? And why? Was someone living in his home? Perhaps a long lost relative who thought him dead? Harry looked up at the house again and noticed that curtains hung in the windows, they were still open despite the early onset of a cold, dark evening and there were no lights on inside to indicate the presence of an occupant.
He shivered into his overcoat and kicked one of his shoes against the other. Harry was quite bewildered about this house situation but it was cold, and he had been travelling for many hours, with a great desire to rest his legs, Harry moved toward the little garden gate. With only a finger, he lifted the latch and the gate opened easily, silently, not a squeaky hinge to be heard. Harry walked between the gate posts, closed the gate behind him and and in just a couple of strides he had reached the front door. Harry placed his outstretched hand flat against the red painted wood, next to the rather large brass door knocker and drew in a long slow breath.
It was getting real now. The confrontation of his past. This was the house where his parents had been slaughtered. Snape's memories flashed through his mind, his father dead on the staircase, his mother dead on the floor, by his cot. It was just so brutal, so callous. Whenever these specific memories played on through his mind, they were always followed by the thought of Neville's parents. No less brutal, no less callous - tortured into insanity. Still in St Mungos Hospital, Harry presumed, never to recover, never to know their son, never to comprehend that their suffering was not in vain. That Neville Longbottom had been central to the resistance of Voldemort and his Death Eaters and critical in their final defeat. There was no comparison between the fate of Neville's parents and his own - each were equally devastating. Sometimes, in the silence, Harry still heard his mother's final piercing long scream as he sat in his cot, a toddler, moments away from a viscous assault himself.
Harry shook his head to scatter the memories within his mind, he took a deep fortifying breath and held it as his fingers circled the matching brass door handle and turned it to the left. He expected that the door would be locked by the person/s now occupying the place, however the door opened easily to its full extent and came into friendly contact with a curtained wall behind. Harry reached around the inside of the door frame for a light switch, running his hand up and down where he expected to find it, but came up empty. He let out his breath, kicked his feet firmly against the doorstep to shake off the remaining snow from his walking boots and stepped inside onto a plush round rug in the centre of the dark foyer. It certainly seemed to Harry as though someone was indeed living here, the place was fully furnished but the smells were all of new paint, new furniture and possibly a leathery smell. He stood defensively on the rug waiting for someone to ask him why he was in their hall, but nobody came.
Harry reached out his hand and traced his fingers lightly along the polished wooden stair bannister, he leaned forward into the empty stairwell and peered up into the cavernous darkness, looking into, well he wasn't sure what - something that lingered from his past. Harry had known that coming here would conjure up all sorts of unpleasant and difficult emotions and he was determined to face them, but at his own pace, and certainly not tonight. It was his plan to face the demons of both his past and of this house and transform the fear, the anger and devastation into a peaceful life and comfortable home. A bright, flickering light suddenly caught Harry's eye, reaching instinctively for his wand, he snapped his head out from the stairwell and peered along the hall, toward what he imagined would be the kitchen area. He moved in that direction, and stepped through the hall doorway, into what he could only sense was a huge kitchen and dining room, for it was too dark to see clearly. Harry's eyes were more easily able to make out what was happening in the back garden, due to the light source.
He moved across the bottom of the dining area to stand, nearly touching a series of enormous floor to ceiling glass panels, that served to both divide and incorporate the inside and the outside. Harry could discern an active fire pit in the very centre of the garden. It was the tall slender flames, leaping up in an inviting sort of dance that had caught Harry's attention. He released the hold on his wand and allowed himself to be seduced by the promise of the warmth and comfort of hearty fire. Looking beyond the glare of the glass, Harry studied the arrangement of the reasonably sized garden, which had clearly been designed by someone who had a passion for order and symmetry. Evoking the dimensions of a clock face, the fire pit sat on a solid iron grate encircled by a band of white stones. From the kitchen window, at 3, 6, 9 and 12 two seater wooden garden seats with iron hand rails had been placed facing the pit, and each seat was separated by large shiny pots with some green and silver leaved plants. Behind each seat was a carefully manicured, crescent moon shaped, low hedge, perhaps to protect the fire pit from wind or providing the sense that one was sitting with their back to a wall.
Just as Harry was appreciating the rather formal setting he noticed that there was a man sitting on a garden seat, with his back to the house. Harry shook his head! Of course, why would someone leave a fire unattended? He should have known at once that someone would have to have lit or conjured it. His mystery solving skills were seriously slipping, likely due to long term disuse, he supposed. Harry watched the fellow watching the flames, he appeared to glimpsing the flames between the fingers of his outstretched left hand. At first, Harry assumed that man would be a stranger to him, but as his eyes strained to make out the features of the man, Harry gaped again and his breath created a little cloud of condensation on the glass in front of him. Without breaking his gaze, Harry stretched out his forearm and used his jacket sleeve to erase it from the glass. The colour of his hair was enough to convince Harry that he was no stranger.
He sat leaning his back against the seat, but Harry could detect the erect posture of the well bred, one of his arms was stretched out along the backrest and one lanky leg crossed over the other, at the knee. His fingers appeared to be working over a rough patch, a small knot perhaps, in the wooden backrest. The stark white hair was almost silver against the fire light and was longer than Harry had last seen it, but still in the slicked back style of old. What Harry could not fathom was - how did Draco Malfoy, of all people, come to be there? At Harry's own house? And how could Malfoy possibly know that Harry was returning tonight? No one had known, not even Ron and Hermione. Harry had earmarked a couple of days in the house, alone, to begin the process of repairing the house and to process the pain he anticipated would be provoked by interacting with the place that held so many powerful emotions. The memories of his past needed to be resolved, so that Harry could live in the present, before meeting the demands of his future.
Harry wasted no more time, he pushed open the wide back door, which, upon opening, dinged a tiny silver bell, hung precisely for the purpose it now performed. Malfoy jumped at the unexpected sound, he half rose, whipped out his wand and turned back toward the house and saw Harry striding across a small patch of icy green lawn. Their eyes met briefly before Malfoy snapped his face away suddenly, betraying a sense of panic and put his wand away, hoping it had not been seen. Habitual display of courtesy compelled him to stand to his full height and he reached out his hand towards Harry, "Welcome home, I think, is appropriate" he said forcing what he hoped would be mistaken for a friendly sort of smile. Harry took his hand and said "Thanks, Malfoy. Umm, how do you come to be here?". Malfoy's smile developed into a genuine one, he could well comprehend Harry's inability to account for his presence, he didn't take offence at all, and bent his suddenly shaky legs to retake his position before his body warmth completely evaporated from the wood.
"Sorry, Malfoy", said Harry, turning to face his old school rival, he put his hands behind his back so that his fingers could benefit from the heat of the flames. "I know that sounded rude, but it's just so unexpected. How did you know I was arriving tonight?" "I prefer Draco these days" replied Malfoy softly, watching the red logs at the base of the fire pit, some were turning into white hot ash, "I didn't know you were coming home tonight" he said flicking his eyes across Harry's face and back to the logs. When it became apparent that Malfoy was at the end of his explanation, Harry ventured, "Well, that only makes things less clear. You just happened to be here coincidently? Here? Tonight?". Malfoy sucked in a slow, steady stream of oxygen, as he spoke his voice came out a bit hoarse and gravelly, and he cleared his throat once or twice. "No, no coincidence, Harry. As it happens, I am here a great many evenings, I come after work to ah, to um, collect your mail." he faltered, "Or to open the windows, feed the cat, water the plants... I frequently sit just here, enjoying your quiet little garden." Harry stared at the man, no explanation could have been less comprehensible. Draco was changed.
In the final moments of the Battle of Hogwarts, Voldemort had crowed over his supposed victory and generously providing survivors with a final opportunity to change sides, to join the victorious Death Eaters, or die. No one had moved. Not one person, not even children considered becoming a Death Eater as preferable to death. Malfoy himself had resisted the call and he already was a Death Eater! When his father called Malfoy's name, more than once, he remained standing firmly with those of the Order of the Phoenix and teachers and students of Hogwarts. He remained visibly on the side of the people he had always despised, and who he thought were beneath him. What, Harry wondered, had changed for him? Whatever it was, it could not withstand the firm call of his mother's voice, and Harry did not begrudge Malfoy that, because he knew too well how much he would give to hear his own mother's voice calling his name. Harry fought the urge to shake his head, a strategy he frequently employed to scatter his thoughts and re-establish himself in the present.
Like himself, Harry imagined, Malfoy had reached his full height, two inches taller than himself. He looked legitimately older now, not a petulant child swinging a leather briefcase and brandishing a walking cane, like a pretender. He was changed inwardly as well, he was cordial, there was no trace of the former arrogance in either his tone or manner - but the most glaring signal to the changes that he appeared to have undergone was the fact that he was here. Harry sat down squarely in the middle of the bench seat nearest to Malfoy's, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, chin in hands, not knowing quite how to proceed. "I have a cat?", Harry finally blurted out. Malfoy laughed out loud despite himself and said "If she was not yours before, she certainly is now. I call her Sybill, for Professor Trelawney. I thought it was the sort of thing you might have done, had you been here". Harry was surprised at both Malfoy's capacity for thoughtfulness and knowing anything personal about Harry. He had to agree that whilst Professor Trelawney might not have occurred to him especially, it could very easily have been Tonks.
Another silence seemed to swell up between them, a bit like a balloon - not particularly offensive in itself but certainly threatening to create an awfully unnerving pop at any moment! In an attempt to avoid that scenario, Harry bumbled recklessly into one not too dissimilar, "Who renovated the house, do you know?", he blurted out, jerking his thumb over his shoulder, back toward the building. Malfoy's eyes flicked over at Harry's face and back to the fire, it was a quick movement, but Harry caught it, it seemed to expose a depth of uncertainty. In the brief pause during which Malfoy prepared to give his response, Harry was reminded that the two had never liked or trusted one another, so if Draco appeared guarded it seemed quite natural to Harry. He admired Malfoy's measured nature and realised that his reactive, impulsive nastiness was completely absent, marking a profound difference in his nature.
The Battle of Hogwarts had signalled the end of the second Wizarding War. A time when the dead were buried but before they had been mourned, when injuries were mending but remained painful and debilitating - everyone was putting their lives and families back together. Harry experienced a psychological emergency. Since he had been two years old, his existence had been an exercise in responding to, and recovering from, a series of life threatening predicaments at the hands of Voldemort. His parents had been murdered, he had been mistreated by the Dudley's, he had been bullied at his first school, then by Snape and Malfoy at Hogwarts, he had survived Umbridge, escaped numerous assassination attempts and had been devastated by the steady stream of the deaths of his loved ones. This high level individual persecution had culminated into a full scale war that saw more deaths and injuries than Harry could comprehend and as everyone was adjusting to a new baseline of normal - Harry realised that he had never had a normal. He would have to confront his past if he was ever to recover from the trauma, if he was ever to become the person he wanted to be and have a life he would be happy to live.
Malfoy, like Harry, had been a product of his life situation, and again, like Harry, had survived and transformed. And here they were. Harry began to accept that whatever Malfoy's reason, he was only going to hear about it in Malfoy's own time. He watched as Malfoy lazily took his wand from the inside of his coat and performed a wordless spell - two large glasses of firewhisky appeared, one glass followed the direction of the end of Malfoy's wand and wafted over to pause in front of Harry. Harry smiled and breathed in the sharp smell of the amber liquid, elbows still on his knees, Harry tipped the glass toward his mouth and his bottom lip caught every drop. Happily, the glass refilled itself immediately. Whilst Harry still couldn't attempt to explain Malfoy's apparent connection to himself, or the house, he felt a decided willingness to let the situation unfold. He was deeply curious about these unexplained events and now that he was warm and resting comfortably, he realised that talking with Malfoy was not at all unpleasant.
It was Malfoy's turn to mentally wade through the past. "After the war, I returned home with my parents, we were grateful to have escaped - not just death in the war but life in the Death Eater cult. Voldemort was a war I could never have won or escaped. Except through you". Harry's eyes bugged out, he searched Malfoy's face. Malfoy continued to gaze steadily into the pit, and after a short pause, he continued, "The first time we ever met, on the steps outside the great hall, before the sorting ceremony. I wanted to be your friend, hell, everybody did, simply because you were the famous Harry Potter. I wanted to be a part of that because your exalted status would have propped up my own claims to greatness. Like my very own accessory.". Malfoy's eyes darted over to Harry's to see how he was taking this confession, it was hard to read his face. "I was the only son, of an ambitious father, from an important family, of immense wealth and great expectation". Draco could still feel Harry's eyes on him, as he turned back to the fire, he realised that he had made this speech, more or less, in his mind, a great many times.
He sipped his drink and continued, "When you clipped my exclusive wings, in front of the whole cohort, I was furious. For about 8 years". As Draco laughed generously at his own juvenile disaster, Harry stared at him in utter disbelief, this was as far from Malfoy as a person could be. "We all have our weak spots and you shanked mine as deeply and as thoroughly as anyone ever has. You were abhorrent to me from that moment. But over time I found that I increasingly admired you, that drove me to very uncomfortable places. You weren't great because you were famous, you were famous because you were great. You were a powerful wizard, even as a boy, you were intelligent, hard working and well liked, you were on the right side of things…", here Draco's voice trailed off. Harry sipped and waited, wondering where all of this was leading, but he would have to wait a little longer.
Draco suddenly took a quick, loud in-breath, he snapped his fingers, his drink disappeared, he arched his back against the bench and ran his fingers down his thighs, along the expensive fabric of his suit pants. He smiled wryly, shrugged his shoulders and finished up by saying "So, I wanted to say thanks. My father knew someone from the Ministry, I asked him to have a look at the place, he might be scared of my dad because…", Draco waved his hand vaguely toward the house, "and as I said, I just keep an eye on things occasionally", he stood as if to take his leave. Draco had changed tack, from a meandering verbal wander through his childhood to a patched up and simplified excuse. Harry was startled, still behind the eight ball, he responded by awkwardly getting to his feet, his own glass disappeared and was replaced by Draco's right hand. "I've stayed longer than I intended", having had his hand shaken, Harry lamely followed Draco to the back door as he disappeared down the hallway.
Tired and unable to make further sense of what appeared to be an intriguing mystery, Harry wandered briefly about the house, he crawled into a huge bed he found upstairs, the linen was warm and smelled new. After a quick summary of the oddities of his evening, he fell asleep. It was no longer dark when Harry was wakened by a white cat trying to make a nest in the bedding on his chest, "Ahh, you must be Sybill, good morning", he reached for his glasses and when they were on, he patted her in several long strokes from her head to the tip of her bushy white tail, then scratched under her chin, she purred loudly. In his mind, Harry replayed the list of questions he had about Draco - had he genuinely undergone such a character transformation, as to make him agreeable? Why, exactly, had he felt compelled to have Harry's house rebuilt? And why had he changed his story like that and then left so suddenly? Harry rolled out of the sumptuous bed, to the disappointment of Sybill, his feet an inch deep in thick soft, carpet and his eyes took in the details of the bedroom, furniture, an arty type picture on the wall, some knick knacks, a photograph of his parents and one of himself, Ron and Hermione from early school years. Weird to think of Malfoy in his bedroom, thinking up these personal touches. Every item seemed luxurious and expensive which reflected the old Malfoy, at least one fact that seemed to connect to the new one.
As Harry trotted downstairs, Sybill followed closely trying to rub her body along his legs as he went, nearly tripping him up several times. Harry was indeed grateful for the convenience of moving into a fully repaired and newly furnished home, it was not at all what he had anticipated. He was beyond pleased that everything seemed so very nice and comfortable, certainly not anything that he would have selected himself, he had to acknowledge, only for the fact that it was all far nicer than anything he would have thought to have chosen. But not being a particularly materialistic person, and being devoid of the capacity to appropriately appreciate materials or cost, Harry had to accept that he simply didn't have the will or desire go into any sort of raptures over the place. He would definitely try to get to the bottom of Draco's participation in it all, but as for the practicalities, it was done, and he was grateful, but now - coffee. There was a sparkling new coffee machine, Harry followed the simple instructions and in no time was leaning against the wooden frame of a glass panel admiring the back garden, it made him smile to think of Malfoy being so precise and immaculate. Ron would laugh his head off and Hermione - well if she ever got past the kitchen to notice the garden, and thinking of those two made him grin all the wider, he sent them an owl announcing his return and with an invitation to dinner. And without thinking, he sent one to Draco, inviting him to lunch.
Several hours later, Draco sat quietly at the end of the kitchen bench, twirling his wine glass by the stem, watching the beads of condensation slide down the outside contour of the glass. Harry was putting the final magical touches to the lunch, both men were introspective and apparently relatively comfortable in silence. When Harry signalled that lunch was served, Draco followed him to the table and took the chair indicated and placed his glass of Elderflower wine to his right. Harry broke the silence by saying "I still don't really understand why you felt compelled to do the house, but I want to thank you. You have really outdone yourself, it looks fantastic and everything is really comfortable. I can't imagine how much effort and money -". Draco dropped his knife, it clattered against his plate and his hand flew up into a stopping position, "No, no, not at all" he interrupted, shaking his head vigorously, "As I said, Father knew a someone and…" he trailed off, "I'm glad you are comfortable and like I said last night, I wanted to thank you for your effort… nothing in comparison…" and trailed off again, he redoubled his effort and attacked the salad. Harry watched his guest slyly from under his lids, still baffled and increasingly convinced there was something deeper underlying Malfoy's knee jerk avoidance of the topic, but unwilling to risk an uncomfortable encounter, he likewise focussed on his meal.
They did talk, eventually, they ate, drank, chatted about Harry's journey, Draco's position overseeing his family's financial and commercial interests, and some consulting work he does at the Ministry. Later they wandered about the house, Draco pointed out some features that served to betray the level of his involvement in the redesign and refurbishment of the house. Harry said nothing, but followed him and developed an appreciation of the high standard of the finish. The doorbell rang, a striking peel echoed through the foyer - Harry and Draco looked at each other with wide eyes. Harry mentioned that he was expecting Ron and Hermione for dinner but determined that it was too early for it to be them. The pair headed down the stairs, Harry to the front door and Draco to the kitchen. Before the front door was halfway open Hermione burst through it and flung herself into Harry's arms, her own arms tight around his neck. Ron stood back beaming at his old mate, shaking his head at what he considered Hermione's overly dramatic display of emotion, but he couldn't deny he was extremely pleased as well. As for Harry, having been travelling alone for such a long time he was surprised to realise that he had actually missed the physical aspects of his more personal relationships and it made him hold Hermione all the closer.
When they finally peeled themselves away from each other, both Harry and Hermione had to wipe away a couple of tears, and both grinned like mad and kept their arm wrapped around the other. When they could finally speak, Hermione began verbalising all the thoughts that Harry himself had had the night before, about the house. The three talked to, at and over each other about various topics as they moved slowly from the front door, through the foyer and along the hall. Harry and Hermione still held on to each other and of Hermione's visual inspection of the home interior, she missed not one item, nor did she fail to register the quality of furnishing or expense of accessories.
A tinkle of cutlery sounded the alarm for Ron and Hermione that the three were not alone. "Someone else here, mate?" asked Ron as he pushed his body through the huddle and out through the open hall door, at first his eyes were arrested by the effect of the glass panels and the green of the garden beyond. Finally he was astonished to find himself face to face with Malfoy, not the most subtle of chaps at the best of times, Ron stared open mouthed at the sight of Malfoy who was trying to busy himself with the clearing away of the lunch debris. Seeing Ron's obvious horror, Hermione quickened into the kitchen where her eyes flicked from Ron's face, to glass wall, to the outdoor garden to the kitchen and finally resting on Malfoy's white face. Harry was unsure how to manage the situation, he thought he had allowed himself and Draco plenty of time, but he had not reckoned on the strength of Hermione's enthusiasm to see him, as to come three hours early. There was no question that Harry was overjoyed to see Ron and Hermione but suddenly he wasn't not prepared to have his time with Draco prematurely ended. Harry squeezed past Ron, and began collecting plates from the dining table and moving them to the kitchen bench. He smiled encouragingly at Draco and said, "Well, I think we all know each other" he attempted to smooth the waters and set the tone for going forward, "Drinks anyone? Everyone?".
Hermione always polite, followed Harry's lead, "Malfoy, Hi, what a surprise! How are you?". Malfoy coloured slightly, but he was grateful to her, "Hi Hermione, I'm very well thank you. I understand congratulations are in order?" he returned nodding towards Ron. "Thank you, yes, we have been waiting for this big lug to come home so that we can get married", Hermione reached up and pulled Harry's face down to her own and kissed his cheek. "Harry, you will be on double duty as best man and maid of honor!" she said laughing. Ron, unable and unwilling to hide his disapproval about the presence of Malfoy he sat down heavily in the chair at the end of the dining table, "What are you doing here, Malfoy?", he asked ungraciously. "I prefer Draco" he replied simply, buying time in the hope that a plausible reason would occur to him. Harry intervened with a warning look at Ron, "I ran into Draco last night, as soon as I returned actually, we ran out of time to catch up, so I invited him for lunch". Harry was not quite sure why he misrepresented the situation that way, it seemed to him that yesterday, his allegiance would have have been absolutely with Ron and Hermione, but today he was misleading them both for a person that Harry could barely have called a friend.
Draco picked up his Elderflower wine and wandered away from the table, he looked out into the garden hoping to become lost to the group. Hermione looked from Harry to Draco, and back again, she was intuitively aware of a romantic nature between the two. In utter disbelief she analysed their behaviour, there was certainly nothing explicit but the more she thought about it, it appeared to Hermione that it was the lack of contact between them that signalled this possibility. Hermione decided to put on her best party personality for the sake of her dearest friend, she passed Ron a bottle of Paulopabita's Fishy Green Ale, and sipped at her own Celery and Beetroot wine, which she took with a single ice cube. She turned her biggest smile on Harry and began to ask about when he arrived home, how his house came to be repaired, and who furnished it because clearly their appreciation of style was out of Harry's league. Harry fired back last night, long story and for sure as he laughed heartily, he was so glad to be with Hermione again after all those years and was pleased at her willingness to overcome the awkwardness of the situation.
When Draco knew he was no longer the focus of attention, he slipped quietly into a dining chair and watched the banter between Hermione and Harry. He had never experienced a relationship based on genuine affection, appreciation of a person and what was obviously a deep love between them, he was intrigued, he was jealous and he was glad to have the opportunity to observe it. Harry asked Hermione about her job in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, about her parents, about the wedding, he tried to pull Ron into the conversation but he was clearly determined to persist in his internal tantrum. Hermione happily answered for Ron, relaying the specifics about his job with George at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and updating Harry on the news of all of the Weasley's and of course how much they missed Fred.
Hermione invited Draco to join in, by mentioning that she had seen him at the Ministry several times, he responded by agreeing that he regularly attends the Ministry as the head of the Malfoy family interests and sometimes takes the opportunity to signal his prefered policy positions among other things. Ron snorted rudley and slapped his hand on the table, he opened his mouth to make known his inappropriate and unsubstantiated conclusions but Hermione, who had been expecting this for sometime, headed him off, "Hush Ron", she said sternly and gave him THE look, she stood up and firmly taking his arm said "Wow, that garden is incredible, come on Ron, let's get a closer look at that silver fern. I'm sure its the same one your mother was mentioning". The bell dinged twice in quick succession, once at the door opening and again on its close, at which point two very intense conversations began simultaneously.
Hermione let Ron blow off steam. She agreed with him that it was inexplicable that Malfoy should be here at all, except that secretly Hermione did think she could explain it. Ron paced the grass, kicked a few white stones and ticked off a list grievances on his fingers, Hermione soothed him by acknowledging his annoyances and sharing his vexation. She took out her wand and sparked the fire pit to distract Ron, she led him to a bench and pulled his arm over her shoulder for warmth. Together they came up with a plan that Hermione hoped would get them all through the evening in the most pleasant manner possible. All the while Hermione surreptitiously watched the pair indoors, she imagined accurately Draco suggesting that he had overstayed his welcome and Harry assured him that he had not, that he was both welcome and wanted. Draco looked at Harry and in that moment, each man became only vaguely aware, for the first time, the essence of what Hermione had figured out instantly. She watched this exchange carefully and considered it evidence supporting her conclusion. Pleased with herself and pleased for Harry, Hermione chuckled silently, a familiar position for one who is watchful, intuitive and secretive, it all continued to serve Hermione so well.
Although Harry had matured significantly whilst he had been away, having been out of the habit of romance and being a modest person it had not occurred to Harry that Draco was interested in him. But in that moment when Harry had looked into Draco's eyes, a vague sense of interest seemed to uncoil in his belly. "Don't go", he said simply. Draco wanted to stay but the friction, as he thought about how it threatened to boil over in to conflict he subconsciously lined up his thumb nails with the edge of the dining table and pushed until his thumb nails turned white and began to hurt. Despite the tension he wanted to stay but he just didn't know how to say yes. The fact that Draco didn't force the issue gave Harry the confidence to press his advantage, he grabbed a new bottle for Ron, topped up Draco and Hermione's wine, and took a whisky for himself. "Come on" he said to Draco, moving his head toward the back garden, "Help me with the door?", and just like that Harry had made it possible for Draco to stay. With Ron and Hermione cuddled together on one seat, Draco taking the one furthest from Ron, Harry passed out drinks and stood smiling around at them all.
Between himself and Hermione the conversation off to a fitful start, but with a couple more beverages each and the willingness of Ron and Draco to tolerate each other, for Harry's sake, the evening went off without further conflict. Any topic likely to be confronting or create embarrassment was given a wide berth, which left little scope and with much of the heavy lifting done by Harry and Hermione, the evening became a pleasant little party. They stayed outside until the comfort of the fire failed the warmth factor, when they moved indoors Harry whipped out his wand and effortlessly created several large platters of shared foods to encourage group activity. Hermione talked plenty about their wedding, the Weasley's and work. Harry talked much about all the places he had been, all the things he had seen and repeatedly commented on how good it was to finally be home. Ron became amusing when he began to share stories from the joke shop, the students who were their customers and the blunders they made out the back - both conceptually and practically, but luckily no customers had been seriously injured. Draco tried to participate, most of his conversation was in relation to things other people had said and done, Harry appreciated his effort and was just glad that everyone was considerably less at odds.
Eventually Draco felt it incumbent upon himself to depart prior to Ron and Hermione to give the old friends some time together, but he neither left so early as to be conspicuous not made a hullabaloo about his leaving that he was practically out the door before they realised that he was. Ron raised his eyes to Harry as soon as the door clicked shut, "What is all that about?", he asked determinedly but not unkindly. Hermione looked at Harry too wondering with what reason could he satisfy Ron, and indeed, himself, by way of Malfoy's presence. Harry, having recognised his former avoidance of the facts, was determined now to set the record straight. These were his two closest friends and they deserved to know the truth and Harry was keen to restore the closeness that had always existed between the trio. He leaned back in the high backed dining chair and returned their frank looks, "I am just as confounded as you are. I returned last night expecting to find the house in ruins - as we last saw it" he said nodding at Hermione, "but here we are! I found the house as you see it now. The house is so different that at first I was sure that I must have been looking at the wrong one, I thought perhaps someone was living here. I found Draco in the back garden. He told me that since the war he's had a change of heart and wanted to repair the house as some sort of penance. I can't be certain that I have got the whole story out of him but he has changed so much that he is almost a different person. Did you find?" he asked his friends.
Ron and Hermione exchanged a quick glance, Harry read Ron's look to mean that he was not at all ready to notice any difference and that any good he may seem to have done was highly suspicious. Hermione acknowledged a great deal of difference, and not only for Harry's sake, "He doesn't resemble at all the arrogant, conceited bully I remember. He seems quite a good listener, interested in other people. So you say you met with him last night? What was he doing here? And back again today?", Hermione gently probed her friend. Harry accepted the invitation "He was sitting in the back garden watching the fire. He said he has been coming regularly since repairing the house to keep an eye on things I suppose. He comes to feed the cat" Harry watched Hermione's expression to this simple yet unbelievable part of the story, he didn't need to see that Ron would reject the excuse as fabrication. Hermione grinned "You have a cat?", she prodded Harry in his ribs and laughed. "That's exactly what I said!" laughed Harry. "I acknowledge that there this all has a sniff of mystery about it. Draco seems at times quite communicative but then shuts down. I'm as surprised as you are to find that I quite like him - in any case I have no desire to continue school yard animosities forever" here he looked at Ron, and said with conviction "I am done with conflict. He said as much that he was sorry for the past and has made amends. It must have been hell for him inside that jealous petty mind of his - I am not so mean as to insist he wear that miserable cloak forever".
Harry raised his glass to his companions, drank the last of his firewhiskey as though to signal the end of his treatise, "It is so good to be back" he grinned, "Now about this wedding - when and where, and what can I do to help?". The three talked well into the night, ending up in the comfortable sitting room sipping coffee, brandy and nibbling on sweet petit fours whipped up by Hermione's wand. Ron sat on a cushion on the floor with his back resting against a sofa whilst Harry and Hermione sat at either ends of a two seater facing each other, their feet making an intermingled pile of socks in the middle of the couch. They reminisced freely about their adventures at school, caught each other up on what their fellow students were now up to and Harry went into great detail about his adventure abroad.
It became clear to Ron and Hermione that the self searching Harry had done had served him well, he seemed to have untangled the challenging parts of his character whilst retaining his cheerful, kind nature, his natural intelligence and general curiosity. Ron made immediate demands on Harry's time for some much missed male bonding over chess and quidditch and reminded Harry how much the Weasley's would love to see him. Hermione was less demanding, but no less keen to incorporate Harry into their social lives and to provide support and assistance as far as helping Harry to settle back permanently into the wizarding world.
Harry spent the next day at home as well, he and Sybill developed a routine together and Harry explored the house on his own. He began to be less troubled by seeing Snape's memory of his father, James, dead every time he passed that particular spot on the staircase. He went two or three times to the open door of the room in which would have stood his crib, but the image of Lily was too shocking to face, it made him nauseas. In fact although Harry had seen into the room he actually couldn't recall that it was furnished. There were other rooms on the second story, a guest room, a family bathroom and the top landing had two recliners either side of a low bookcase bathed in sunshine that flooded in from a large window overlooking the back garden and the rolling hills beyond. Down stairs, either side of the staircase and the short hall was the sitting room and a large office space, the whole back of the house had been converted in the sprawling dining kitchen, looking every inch as though its purpose was entertainment. Harry found books, photographs, some Gryffindor paraphernalia in nooks and crannies throughout, he became further convinced that Draco had been more deeply involved in the refurbishment of the home than he had let on to Harry. In this way Draco became more a part of Harry's thoughts, intersecting with thoughts of his parents, thoughts of Ron and Hermione.
The following day Harry disapparated to The Burrow where he was welcomed with hugs and kisses, back slaps and handshakes, much like he remembered the general frivolity of the Weasley household. However when everybody sat down to lunch, the vacant chair to George's left was a silent reminder that not all is as it was. In addition, Mr Weasley had never entirely recovered from the injuries incurred from Nagini's attack in the Department of Mysteries, there was now a touch of sadness around his eyes. Mrs Weasley, who should have had more energy now that the children had all grown up but what energy she did have seemed wasted in feigning heightened enthusiasm. She was genuinely glad to have Harry back, of course, she enjoyed times, like today, when the family came together and very much looked forward to Ron's wedding but in the quieter moments between events Mr and Mrs W. were resigned to taking restive reflection. Harry felt completely at home, he had been part of the Weasley family since his second year at Hogwarts, he sat watching the people he loved best as they chatted, nudged children, passed dishes around, ate and drank, joked, laughed and loved. He decided to never go away again, but to stay connected to these people, his people. At this point, Harry was very surprised to find his mind flooded with unexpected thoughts of Draco.
There was not a lot on Harry's to do list, particularly given the house was already repaired, he did intend to get a job at some point, but it was not a financial urgency. If he were simply to please himself, he would spend more time with Ron and Hermione but they worked quite a lot. Harry was keen to establish a firmer friendship with Draco, who as it happened worked more flexible hours, he had yet to think of a reasonable excuse to contact him. It occurred to Harry that he had never needed a reason to see Ron and Hermione, enjoying each other's company was the reason. So Harry bit the bullet and sent Draco an owl to suggest a catch up, here at Harry's or anywhere Draco was pleased to meet. It was apparent that the owl was sent back directly, it was out of breath and in need of fresh water, which Harry provided and was happy to receive an invitation for Harry to attend dinner at Malfoy Manor. Harry bounded upstairs, with Sybill at his heels, to see which of his shirts were clean.
Much later, Harry emerged in the street in which Malfoy Manor was the only house. He didn't recognise the imposing building, because the only other time he had been here he had been the kidnap victim of snatchers who had hustled him up the neverending dark driveway under duress. They had clearly been hoping to make a small fortune by handing over Harry to Madame Lestrange who was paying for the privilege of being able to hand him directly to Voldemort. Harry looked up at the dramatic skyline of the old house, he thought he could count four stories and the roof had ornate gothic trim, ever more effective against the moonlit backdrop of the dark sky. The high fence all the way around provided a physical and psychological barrier to potential intruders. As Harry approached the double gated entrance, one gate swung open with the hint of a whine, he walked through and it closed with a click behind him. OOhh just so creepy, even he had to acknowledge it, it was like a scene from a movie. There were lights on in many of the windows and as he neared the house he saw a bright light on each side of the grand front alcove, sheltering the double front door from the elements.
Mrs Malfoy, herself, opened the heavy set door, with effort. She opened it fully and stood back, her eyes penetrating Harry's face. "Harry Potter!", she announced by way of greeting, "May I?" she indicated a desire to embrace him and Harry stepped forward saying "Of course". The last time the pair had been in contact, they had bonded over a silent trade off where Harry confirmed the safety of Mrs Malfoy's only child Draco in exchange for her willingness to incorrectly confirm Harry's death. Both actions served to betray Voldemort and contribute to his ultimate downfall. Harry understood her close feelings toward him and was amenable to denying the capacity of the past to determine his own bright future. The best prevention for anything like Voldemort to take root ever again is forgiveness, friendship and love. She did not hold him long, but stepped aside to allow him to move fully into the entrance, it was well lit to the advantage of the antique features of the original room. "This way," said Mrs Malfoy, gesturing for him to follow her through a series of less well lit rooms, into the family sitting room which was made immediately welcoming by the presence of a large fire.
"Can I offer you a drink" she said kindly and indicated a comfortable seat, it was clear that Mrs Malfoy considered Harry a guest of some distinction, "Brandy?" she lifted an expensive bottle for his approval to which Harry nodded. "Draco will be down in just a moment" she said, nodding encouragingly and poured three generous glasses of the brandy. "You have been away a long time, Harry, we are all so happy to have you back amongst us, again. To where have you been travelling?". Mrs Malfoy and Harry chatted for several minutes until Draco entered the room, Harry stood but Draco motioned for him to retake his seat. "Sorry to keep you waiting, Harry. Mother was very keen to meet with you before she leaves", Draco indicated the untouched brandy and asked his mother "Is this for me or…?", "For you, darling", she answered with a quick sideways look at Harry. Harry noting the hint of another enigma decided to ignore it and facing Mrs Malfoy he asked, "You are going out?". "Oh yes Harry, I am sorry I can't stay for dinner but Draco's father and I have a long standing engagement this evening", she looked meaningfully at Draco, which Harry ignored, she slurped her drink rather noisily and rose awkwardly. Harry and Draco rose likewise and they all talked at the same time wishing good evenings, take cares and lovely to see you agains, Draco guided his mother to the doorway and Harry tried not to listen while the pair exchanged last minute whispered reminders and directions.
Harry did however hear Mr Malfoy stalk heavily down the stairs, his walking cane tapping alongside him, and he barked rather rudely to his wife and son, Draco held his mother's coat for her and it seemed fairly clear to Harry that they all would be breathing easier when the front door closed, separating the two groups. Harry made out like he was unaware of any indelicacy, and allowed himself to become occupied by the great many portraits hanging around the room. There was a life size portrait of Malfoy Senior over the roaring fire, looking like the cat who got the cream, for the most part Harry avoided that one but the rest of the works revealed a population of eerily similar looking men, in their primes, their heads all sporting various lengths of silver white hair. It occurred to Harry that Draco had been watching him, and he turned toward him thinking of something clever to say, but nothing came. Draco looked around the room trying to imagine what impression it made to a first time observer - it had long been accepted by Draco that pride in one's heritage could be taken a little too far, could express itself in a sense of superiority and even crazy ideas about blood purity. There was a tricky little moment of silence while each contemplated the other until Draco offered to top off their drinks and suggested they would be more comfortable in the kitchen, Harry accepted both offers and the frosty atmosphere warmed up immediately.
Harry took the conversational initiative, he talked over some employment ideas he had been considering and he found Draco a willing listener, Draco asked pertinent questions and was encouraging Harry's effort. Later Harry shared some moments from his travels from which he learned that Draco's geography and general knowledge was impressive. When he made a comment to that effect Draco threw his head back and laughed, it was a wonderful laugh and Harry looked at Draco with admiration. Draco explained that his knowledge was a product of relieving his father from the helm of the Malfoy Family Interests, it was important to know in which locations certain precious metals can be found, what government systems were in play, the movement of financial markets, geological patterns that may affect markets and so on. Harry was impressed and asked Draco if he enjoyed it. Draco picked up the baton and tried to communicate some of the complexities of working for the family firm, he indicated some friction with his father but didn't elaborate. Further, Draco talked about his desire for the freedom to participate in ethical investing and was keen to answer Harry's questions trying not to bore him.
The two sat together at one end of a long dining table and had been so engrossed in their conversation that neither had been distracted by the arrival of plates, the refilling of glasses and the removal of disregarded food. They were however awakened to the time when the strong smell of coffee on a silver tray arrived with two glasses of port. Harry realised that he had really enjoyed their time together, getting to know Draco, letting Draco get to know him. When they were alone much of the time passed pleasantly enough but Harry had to acknowledge the occasional tricky silence or uncomfortable moment but he assumed that this would be apparent in all relationships at some point. Relationship! Why had Harry compared his burgeoning friendship with Draco with what he had experienced with Cho Chang and Ginny Weasley and what he had witnessed for years between Hermione and Ron. Harry felt himself colour and got busy adding milk and sugar to his coffee and sipping at the port. Draco said something about time flying and Harry anxiously agreed.
In the following days they spent more and more time together, now that Harry had become aware of his romantic interest in Draco, it put Harry quite out of emotional balance. The silences that had been benign were now cause for concern, Harry felt a nervous, anxious feeling in his chest, he seemed to be over thinking and second guessing things, it made him uncomfortable. Harry had been away three long years, working to achieve an emotional equilibrium but now found upon returning, he had quickly become destabilised. He could not stay away for ever - nor did he want to. He had worked long and hard to be ready for this homecoming, to establish a settled home, a peaceful life, largely free from the trauma of the past. A place from which he could live and love, and be loved in return by the people who comprised his rather patched together extended family including Ron and Hermione, the Weasley's of course and Hagrid.
He hoped to have some contact with his cousin Dudley, with whom things had ended on a surprisingly friendly note. Harry wanted to spend a lot of time with his god son Teddy Lupin and there was Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Oliver Wood and Harry wanted to keep in touch with Professor McGonagall. And now it appeared as though Draco Malfoy had suddenly become one of these important relationships and if that were true Harry was going to have learn how to look at the man without losing his shit. Harry made two quick decisions - first to talk this development through with his best friend Hermione and second, to conceal it from his best friend Ron.
Harry had been to the Ministry of Magic multiple times, none of them had been a pleasure, but this one, he anticipated, would be a striking contrast. He entered through the main entrance, in broad daylight and without disguise and his visit was not going to mediate some catastrophic consequence. The climate was noticeably calmer under the leadership of Kingsley Shacklebolt, whilst there was an undercurrent of efficiency with witches and wizards on the move the atmosphere was completely free of terror. Harry waited for a less crowded elevator and stepped in, he activated the button for the floor Hermione had mentioned her office was located and the elevated shot backwards at high speed, Harry reach up to grab onto the handrail in the ceiling to regain his balance.
It was a challenge to identify whose happiness was greater to see the other - Harry or Hermione. He had rapped his knuckles on the door with the brass letters spelling out Hermione's name and position, the door opened as directed by Hermione from behind her large desk and a huge smile of delight spread over her whole face and a sort of gurgle of glee, she leapt up enthusiastically and hugged him tightly. "I will never get used to having you back, come in, come in", she turned a chair to face the position she now took up sitting on the edge of her desk, "Sit". Harry sat, "I am so glad to be home," he agreed, "and such a luxury to be able to see you face to face. Is it ok to come and see you at work, though?" he asked, not wanting to distract her from what he was certain was a fairly rigid routine and Hermione's unwillingness to shirk tasks that others might consider beneath a management role. "You are always welcome, you know that." she gave him a mock reproving look and began to swing her legs under the table.
"Out with it, Potter", she said smiling, having detected an ulterior motive in his pale face. Harry placed both hands on the ends of the arm rest and pulled himself forward a little, he stared at his knee caps and took a series of shallow breaths as he prepared to deliver his speech. "Just say it", Hermione directed, she had known him too long and too well to let him flounder in the unnecessary drama, whatever it was - and she felt quite sure she knew what it was, would be resolvable. Harry, relieved by Hermione's ability read him, he knew she was right and cut to the chase, "I think I might be falling in love with Draco Malfoy", Harry said slowly, looking directly at Hermione with an unconvinced look in his eyes. Hermione, still smiling and still swinging, opened her hands, palms to the ceiling, as if to say 'and?'.
"You know?", Harry asked her, shaking his head. "I didn't know, know," Hermione offered, but truly, Harry reminded himself, since when had anything ever gotten past Hermione? He was surprised at his own surprise! "So what's the problem?", she asked, Harry dodged that one momentarily by countering, "But how did you know?". Hermione explained, "Malfoy, oh Draco, I mean, was at your house for no conceivable reason, that in itself signals something significant. He apparently rebuilt and refurbished your house, then minimises his involvement and obscures his reason. He is finding ways to insert himself into your life and you, Harry, are helping him.". Harry sat back in the seat and exhaled long and slow as he digested this course of logic. "Of course", continued Hermione, "Draco's fixing your house doesn't automatically mean he loves you, but having a thing for you is the only thing that explains all the loose ends". "Loose ends?" asked Harry. "You came to me, Harry, with a list of loose ends! There's the hanging out at your house - that's code for waiting for you, the personal photos, code for thinking about you, need I say more?".
It made logical sense to Harry, but... But. Hermione swung off the desk, she hoped that by the time she added a couple of items to a list she was compiling, signed one or two purchase orders and put on her coat that Harry might have had time to accept the inevitable. "Ok, I think I can accept that. The problem seems to be a lack of candor. That first night he was quite open but just before he got to the point he clammed up and left suddenly. The next day, he was showing me the house and I felt sure he would explain the connection. I went to Malfoy Manor where there was some kind of conspiracy to keep Mr Malfoy and I from meeting but it went unexplained."
Hermione was listening as she completed her tasks, when Harry finished speaking and she had finished writing she came out from behind her desk and asked Harry, "Do you suspect Draco of having a hand in something nefarious?" "No, nothing dangerous - " he replied and she cut him off "because if you don't want him around, tell me, I'd be happy to have him build and furnish a house for me. But seriously, have you told Draco that you are attracted to him?", she asked. "No." Harry answered. "That is mysterious" Hermione said and they both burst into laughter.
Harry understood the value of seizing an opportunity and was quite willing to put himself out there, he knew that taking a risk and getting shot down was actually not fatal. So later that night, after a simple dinner, when they had moved into the garden, Harry looked Draco in the eye, shrugged his shoulders and said "I have a big ol' crush on you Draco Malfoy, and that's not the wine talking." Draco looked back at him with a small smile and simply said "Good", but he did shift from the middle of his usual seat to make room for Harry to sit by him, and when he did Draco moved his hand from the knot of wood he habitually toyed with and placed it over Harry's shoulder. Draco had never been able to be vulnerable like Harry, it was another thing to admire about the man. They both sighed and and enjoyed the new found intimacy between them, knowing that they had plenty of time before them to enjoy each other.