"Draco, you have a guest," the voice of Narcissa Malfoy was soft and flowing, but it interrupted his thoughts as he perused the vast shelves of the Malfoy Library. Draco didn't turn to face his visitor, merely continued selecting his book. He wouldn't turn until he knew.
"Thank you, mother," he replied quietly, his tone clear of scorn or malice. She left at the dismissal, silent, but still Draco kept his back to whoever had come to him in this prison. After the war the hatred had become too much and he had withdrawn into himself, staying in his Manor, a recluse.
"You've changed, Malfoy," there came a warm drawl from behind him. He knew that voice. With a startled gasp Draco whirled round to see the vibrant Jade eyes of Harry James Potter just two inches from his. He pitched backwards in a desperate effort to gain distance from the man, and would have cracked his head open on the hard mahogany shelves were it not for the two strong arms that had wound themselves around his waist at lightening speed, pulling him smoothly back up against the taller man. "The Malfoy I knew would never show shock, or lose balance. What happened to you?" it seemed there was genuine concern lacing the Golden Boy's tone. Draco didn't trust it.
"After Crucios at every opportunity from the higher ranks of the Dark service nerves become frayed. After having ones mother's life threatened constantly by a mad man one tends not to care too much about oneself, more about said mother. After three years of hatred from your public after the end of the war, and three years of having to keep a mask of it all I at least withhold the right to express emotion, vulnerability and human weakness in my own home. I am twenty years old, Potter; I've grown up. I should be allowed to be free of past prejudice. As that is obviously not going to happen I am going to be free of it here. I am not a Malfoy, here. I am Draco." Harry winced but didn't release the blond in his arms. "Let go of me, Potter, you dirty my robes. After spending thirteen months in a windowless cell in Azkaban with no knowledge of ever being released, I have no desire to ever frequent a small space, especially the enclosure of your arms, even though by some miracle I was freed." This elicited a frown from the dark haired man, who did as he asked.
"You don't know why?" he queried in disbelief.
"Don't know why what?" Draco growled, brushing off his clothes and stalking gracefully over to his wing-backed chair. He really hated the way everything he did was effeminate. "Don't speak in riddles, Potter."
"I – well – the thing is – I – uh – I testified for you at your trial, along with your mothers, with obvious success. I testified for your father as well but the evidence was too great; all I could do was getting him a lighter sentence. I am so sorry there wasn't more I could do to help." As Draco stared, Harry lowered his head in shame.
"You stood up for my family?" he asked, not quite able to comprehend what he had just been told. "My father tried to kill you numerous times during the war – we were followers of the Dark, after all we did to you, you saved us from Azkaban? Why?" Harry's head snapped up to look at Draco.
"Because I saw your reluctance to follow Voldemort when I had my visions. You saved me with that incident at the Manor and your mother didn't give me away in the Forbidden Forest… when I saw in my dreams how you were forced to do His bidding you kept me going; it was people like you I was trying to save. You changed my whole perspective on the war and I think that without that I wouldn't have been able to carry on. Then, to have you thrown in a cold, dank, pitch black cell because of a brand on your arm and the will of a sick, twisted, non-human shell like Voldemort, when you didn't want to in the first place… to have you tossed aside like you were worthless while people who did nothing in the war were congratulated for being on the right side? I would not let that happen! You've been imprisoned for most of your life by your father's prejudices and you shouldn't have to be any more. You were braver than most of the people who fought in the war; you survived constant scrutiny from the most evil Wizard the world has ever seen." By the end of the speech Harry was panting, and turned to face the library shelves, back tense, shoulders hunched.
"Potter… I'm sorry," Draco whispered. His stomach clenched as guilt surged through him at the memories of how foul he had been to the orphan, yet he had still saved them when it came to a chance for revenge. "I didn't know any of this. The Aurors who arrested me in the Great Hall after the battle left me in the cell and the next thing I knew I was half starved and weak, and I was being released, and Mother was there, healthy, and we went home. Thank you," he slowly approached the Gryffindor and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Now, I do believe I haven't been at all civil to a guest. Poor Grandfather must be rolling in his tomb at the thought of my inhospitality. Mr Potter, how would you like a firewhiskey, while you provide me with the reason you came to the Manor? Not to be subject to my cynicism, I'm sure." Gesturing to the chairs by the fire, Draco led the obviously upset man and sat him down. At the rate the whiskey disappeared Draco wondered just how much his ignorance and cruelty had affected the Boy-Who-Lived.
"I came to ask a favour… and to offer an employment opportunity. I know you don't like me very much but in my… house," he swallowed hard, but continued. "I found some items that I can't touch or un-curse and they hold nasty consequences. After talking to the House Elf I found out that only a person of Black blood can touch them without adverse effects. Then I realised that the only people left in the Black line are you, your mother, and my godson, Teddy. I couldn't possibly ask Teddy to do it – he's three for Christ's sake! I don't think your mother would be comfortable doing the task and I know you were top of the class in Charms, drawing with Hermione, so I was wondering whether you would possibly consider my… employing you. I can put you up with lodgings and feed you, and I'm not home very often. I know it's not ideal but it's something to do and…" Draco cut in quickly, surprised at the offer.
"I'm interested. What home do these items reside in?" It was interesting that Potter had come into possession of a piece of Black estate when the family kept their fortunes very close to their chest, especially as Draco himself was set to inherit most of them. Harry winced at the question but dutifully replied.
"Grimmauld Place," he admitted. Draco's eyes widened in silent question. "Sirius Black was my godfather and left it to me in his will, as well as his fortunes which are really too much. That night at the Ministry…" his voice was pained as he trailed off, eyes distant as he relived the memory. Draco, too, flinched; that night had changed his role in the war – with his father in Azkaban Draco was forced into service, to do the horrific things he had experienced.
"Aunt Bella killed the Traitor-Black," Draco finished almost impassively. He was told about Sirius the Traitor-Black, heard the stories of his imprisonment and his escape. "Surely even though Bella did it for all the wrong reasons it was a godsend? I mean the man is the reason you were orphaned, he betrayed your parents to the Dark Lord. Surely now he's dead there is justice, revenge for the crime that stole your family?" With a loud crash Harry shot up, throwing the chair behind him. His eyes were blazing and wild, his magic ripping through the air as raw as if it was going to unleash itself on the room.
"Sirius was set up by Pettigrew," he spat the name so vehemently Draco recoiled. "He framed him after betraying my parents. Siri was imprisoned an innocent man and escaped to see me. I helped him, too. I saved him from the Dementors."
"It was you that night in the forest?" Draco gasped. "You and your Patronus! But… how?"
"How did you know about my – how did you know what happened that night?" Harry growled suspiciously causing Draco to swallow.
"I never slept very well and went on nightly walks. That night was no different, simple and sweet, but there was a commotion in the forest. I don't normally venture further than the edge but I was drawn in and I followed the sound to this… lake. There was a man hunched over the convict, Black. Dementors swooped in from all directions and even though I was beyond the tree line they started sucking my life force as well as the men. The hunched one tried casting the Patronus charm but only came up with a shield but then a brilliant stag burst through the trees on the other side of the water and cleared them. I didn't know whose it was at that point but then the light from the stag shined off the glasses of the man and hit your eyes, and now I realise it could have only been you!" when he finished Harry was pacing.
"You didn't turn me in?" the scepticism earned a laugh from the blonde.
"I didn't know it was you, back then. And any way; did you not pay any attention in first year? Ratting on people doing things they shouldn't after curfew doesn't do me any favours; I get a detention too. If I had told on you it would mean I would be in trouble, causing my parents to be disappointed and my walks to be over. Self-preservation is key, Potter." Now awe coated Harry's expression earning a barely bit back snort from Draco; typical heart-on-my-sleeve, expression-on-my-face Gryffindork.
"Well then thanks, Malfoy," was all he got. "Anyway… the verdict on Grimmauld?"
"Although it pains me greatly to say it, I'll help you. You had me at 'only Black blood can touch it'. Besides, I've always wondered what happened to the old Black family home."
And so it begun.