"Are you bloody mental, Harry? Seriously?" Ron yelled, jumping up from the seat by the fire. "You employed Malfoy? Of all the people you could employ, you choose him?" Hermione shot into the drawing room from the library, eyes alit.
"Oh Harry, you finally reached out! I am so proud of you," she cooed, bustling over and hugging him. He reached around her portly stomach and rubbed her back, smiling.
"Thanks, Mione. Are you sure you should be up and around? You're pregnant and I don't want you being under any strain because of me." He worried, looking to Ron for reassurance only to find that he was shaking his head frantically. Apparently that was the wrong thing to say. Looking back at Hermione, he saw that she had gone the complete opposite of her earlier mood; she was now furious.
"Harry James Potter, are you suggesting that I cannot take care of myself?" she growled. "Are you implying that I need to rest because I can't take a couple of extra pounds on my stomach, to carry my own child?" Harry backed up and held his hands up.
"No, not in any way, I was just thinking that…" he didn't know what he was thinking; he had just wanted to help her feel less tired.
"Thinking what? I get enough of this pansy-footing from my husband over there, and I don't need any more from you!" she yelled, slumping into a chair. "I am so sorry, Harry. These hormones are all over the place. Little Rose is a kicker, too." When it seemed like he was back in the clear, Harry sat back down.
"It's okay Mione. I just have to remember never to ask if you if you want to sit down again," he grinned wryly. She nodded, giggling. "Well, Draco is going to live with me until all of the cursed items are returned to their original state, and hopefully while he does that I can continue remodelling the place; I already have the colour scheme and furniture planned out. He'll be staying from Monday to Friday, and then he can either chose to go home or stay for the weekend. His mother can visit at any time, and whenever he wants time off he can have it. I'm paying him and feeding him, and I'm going to try to integrate him back into society. You should have seen him, guys; he seemed so broken. It was cruel of the Ministry to put him in that cell, and then he's faced two years and nine months of persecution from the public. He has literally become a hermit. He had tremors, and the cool, collected Malfoy we once knew is shattered, leaving the fragile, damaged Draco behind. I want to repair him. It's only fair, after all their family did for us in the war." Harry finished, taking a sip of his firewhiskey. Ron looked murderous, but Hermione clapped happily, eyes shining with tears.
"I am so happy you've overcome your childish feud and reached out to him, Harry. From what you've told me, he really needs it. When is he going to start?" she asked, eager to hear more about the reconciliation of their old enemy.
"Actually," Harry started sheepishly. "He's upstairs now, unpacking. It was easy enough to get him here, but opening up is going to be an altogether different matter, I think." Hermione slapped him upside the head.
"Potter! You invited us round, which must make him feel exponentially awkward, whilst he gets settled in? He barely tolerates you, and that's only because you saved his family!" she screeched. Ron stood and placed a hand on her shoulder, calming her.
"I can't say I'm happy, mate, but I'll let you go through with your crackpot schemes. Tell you what; come round for dinner on Friday. That gives him a week to get settled in, and come around to the idea that he now lives with his worst enemy." He clapped Harry on the back, and helped Hermione up. "We'll see you later, Harry. Drop us an owl, okay?" when he nodded, the pair left. He could just hear Hermione congratulating Ron in proud tones on his maturity. Harry, meanwhile, got up in search of his new lodger.
Draco had chosen to live in the bedroom on the top floor, only accessible through a spiral staircase and trap door. It was dark up there, and Harry trod carefully, listening for signs of life. He knew the bedroom suite had been plain and empty before Draco was there, so had transfigured a four poster bed reminiscent of Hogwarts for him shortly before he had arrived. Draco had been told to decorate the room as he wished, because it was now his, and Harry was curious to see how it was done. He climbed the stairs and pushed the trap door open silently, thankful that there were no wards on them. Observing the room in quiet awe, he saw that the bedspread was still Slytherin green, just how Harry had made it, but the rest of the room was tastefully light. The walls were white, with a slate grey feature wall, and leather chairs, mahogany wood. There were four bookshelves full of old books, and a posh writing desk, already scattered with parchments. Harry's gaze finally fell on the man curled up on the bed, and thought at first that he was sleeping. However when he noiselessly approached, he saw that Draco's shoulders were shaking heavily.
Shit! He's crying, thought Harry. Astute observation, genius,thought another part of his brain. He ignored it. Do I go over there and comfort him, or leave him alone? It's not like he would come to me anyway, but this may be an invasion of privacy. He's only just got here, only just stopped loathing you; perhaps interrupting such a private act is a step too far. Just as he came to this conclusion, Draco sat up and looked at him with red, teary eyes.
"Come to gloat, Potter?" he asked, biting back sobs that were trying to tear their way from his throat. He hadn't made a sound, so how had Potter known to come up and find him in this state?
"Not at all… Draco. I had come up to make sure you were okay, I mean Hermione beat some sense into me and I realised it was really inconsiderate of me to invite them over when you had only just got here, so I wanted to see if you were alright. Evidently not," he frowned to himself. "Would you like to talk about it?" Draco grimaced and wiped the tears harshly from his face, standing angrily. He couldn't believe he had let himself be seen in such a condition.
"It's just… war problems." He tried to dismiss it, but realised that Harry was the last person that would give up after hearing that answer; he basically blamed himself for the entire war, and so automatically thought that any war trauma was caused, however indirectly, by Harry himself. "It's nothing, really."
"Draco…" Harry started, unsure how to proceed. The blonde moved to the window, hands folded behind his back. Harry followed, and rested a hand on his shoulder, trying to ignore the instinctual flinch. "You can trust me. I really regret everything that happened to you and your family in the war, and I wish that I could take that burden from you and bear it myself. But I can't, so I will have to make do with lessening yours by listening. I won't tell a soul, not even Ron or Hermione, and I'll try to help. You live here, now, and I think it's time we start trusting each other. I don't want to hurt you, and I want to get to know you as a friend." Once his speech was finished, he turned to leave. As he got to the trap door, Draco's small, hesitant voice made him freeze in his steps.
"I heard your conversation with your friends," Draco whispered. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I heard voices and wanted to know who it was, so I came downstairs. I heard you defending me to them, and describing what you thought of me." Harry was staring at Draco's back, eyes wide, when Draco turned. "Do you really want to help me?" he asked timidly, lower lip trembling and tears dripping from his face. When Harry nodded, it looked like Draco was restraining himself from running over, as he had to grasp onto the window sill. Harry opened his arms, breaking the barrier and inviting the blonde into his embrace, and before he knew it he had armfuls of underweight limbs and platinum hair. Draco was crying again, sobbing into the crook of Harry's neck, where his head fit snugly. Harry wrapped his arms around Draco's back, rubbing it soothingly, whispering to him.
"I'm going to help you get better, Draco. I'm going to get the public to accept you and your family for who you really are; good, kind people caught on the wrong side of the war. I'm filing a petition to get Lucius out of Azkaban, and I'm going to help you become the full, whole person you should be. You can be a wonderful person, I just know it. And giving you this focus of curse-breaking, and being in an ancestral home that isn't your personal prison, that's the start. The next step is going to dinner at Ron and Hermione's. So are you game?" Draco lifted his head and nodded.
"I'm beginning to trust you, Harry. Please, please don't let me fall."