Disclaimer: Not mine, I only wish it were.
A/N: Well it's a little later than I normal but at least its still a Friday.
Chapter 5
Kill or Cure
All this time, I can't believe I couldn't see
Kept in the dark but you were there in front of me
I've been sleeping a thousand years it seems
Got to open my eyes to everything.
Without thought, without voice, without a soul
Don't let me die here
There must be something more
Bring me to life
Bring me to life – Evanescence
Tuesday May 26th 1998, Grimmauld Place, London
As Harry pulled the last of his shirts from his closet again, he came to one very simple realisation: he had no idea what to wear. This was something of a novel feeling for him. It had only been couple of weeks previously that everything he had owned, which was not in someway related to his school clothing, had been ludicrously large on him. In addition, his previous wardrobe had the unfortunate tendency to make him look like a bit of a yob, thanks to Dudley's own personal fashion tastes.
He spared himself a long look in the mirror and immediately began to remove the over-dyed blue jeans and red shirt.
'Looks like I'm trying too hard,' he mumbled to Archimedes, who had settled on top of the wardrobe to watch him speculatively. 'I don't want him to think this means anything more to me than it does to him,' he explained to the owl, before rummaging once more through the pile of discarded clothes. 'Though Merlin only knows what that is,' he mused, extracting a pair of artfully ripped faded jeans and allowing his head to fall to one side as he considered them.
Archie hooted with what Harry took to be approval and he pulled the jeans on before hunting for a suitable shirt and wondering what had ever possessed him to arrange this meeting in the first place. Selecting a white linen shirt, he pulled it on. 'Better,' he thought, considering his appearance again. Still, his hand stroked over his bare arms, the tanned skin littered with hundreds of small scars, and he wondered if he shouldn't choose something with longer sleeves to cover them up.
'Fuck it,' he muttered and turned away, to begin returning his rejected clothes to his wardrobe. 'Draco Malfoy is going to have to take me as I come,' he thought and then blushed and chuckled darkly at the innuendo.
T-minus twenty minutes and Harry found himself standing before the bathroom mirror, trying desperately to comb his hair. He needed to leave in exactly five minutes to allow himself to arrive nonchalantly late without simply appearing rude. His hair had never been the most co-operative part of his appearance, however, and he had no idea why he had dared to hope that it would suddenly decide to comply today.
Withdrawing the comb, he decided to compromise and stuck three fingers into the tub of gel, running it through his hair and ruffling it as he went. If he couldn't make it do what he wanted, then he would at least try to pretend that he chose to wear it this way. Rinsing his hands, he carefully fingered the still sore skin of his jaw; the bruising had reduced significantly with salves and Harry applying another healing spell the following morning, and to be fair, going from a broken jaw to a bruise in a week was impressive. Still, he wished that there was something that he could do to get rid of the greyish yellow stippling that covered his jaw; however, even magic could only do so much.
As he made his way towards the front door, he preformed the odd little ritual of patting himself down, confirming the location of wallet, complete with Muggle money, keys, since he would be walking to meet Draco, and wand, tucked into the waist-band of his jeans.
In his head he heard Moody chastise him about improper storage and the chance that he would lose a buttock and he felt the familiar pull of guilt at the Auror's demise. He needed his wand where he could easily reach it, however, if a buttock was the price would be forced to pay for piece of mind, then so be it. He smiled grimly to himself as he stepped out into the warm spring day.
The walk to the coffee shop, in an exclusive shopping district of Muggle London, was a pleasant one and Harry felt calmed as he watched the mothers with push chairs trying to corral wilful toddlers and suited business people bustling about him on their lunch breaks and he appreciated that for once in his life he could take things at his own pace.
He arrived at the designated cafe only five minutes late and, as he had suspected, Draco was nowhere in sight. He wasn't sure what had given him the impression but he suspected that Draco was the sort of person who kept his own time, whilst demanding rigid punctuality from others. He had no basis at all for the assumption, of course; it was just a gut feeling.
He waited impatiently, leaning against the telephone box with an air of feigned equanimity. As the minutes slid by he began to question what it was he was doing here. He and Draco had been enemies for years, had hated each other on sight, and had taken every single opportunity to insult or belittle the other. What had made him think that one shared moment was going to undo all those years of mutual hostility?
Draco was going to arrive, they were going to drink coffee as they shifted between silence and uncomfortable small talk for an hour, then excuses would be made, and they would leave; the friendship would be over before it began. Harry scolded himself, he always rushed into things. This was too soon; this should have developed naturally, over time, now it was going to be awkward and horrible. May be he should just leave now, send his apologies to Malfoy, and tell him Teddy was sick or something like that?
'Hey, Harry, been waiting long?' A smooth upper class voice dragged Harry from his spiralling descent into panic and he looked up to meet cool grey eyes that looked slightly wearier than they had previously. An apologetic smile graced the handsome face, though Draco didn't even come close to verbally acknowledging his tardiness and it was this that put Harry back on sure footing again.
'Not long,' he admitted and gestured towards the entrance following Draco, taking the time to appreciate the way that the other boy managed to make his dark blue jeans, long sleeved grey-blue t-shirt and corduroy jacket look so effortlessly elegant. As Draco reached to open the door the edge of his jacket rose slightly revealing the winged Armani logo on the hem of his shirt and Harry grinned. Draco was a label whore. This was something that fit comfortably with the image of Draco he'd always had and Harry drew a surprising amount of comfort from that.
The inside of the café was filled with the scents of fresh coffee and cake and Harry breathed deeply savouring the familiar atmosphere. They ordered their drinks and Harry led them, weaving through the tables towards the back of the café where two comfy armchairs sat in front of an ornate looking fireplace, small white fairy lights clustered in the grate.
In this small corner, the incessant chatter of the patrons, the clatter of the china and the hiss of the steam dulled into a calm thrum of background noise. Harry immediately took the chair with the best view of the door.
'Old habits die hard, don't they?' Draco commented with a sad smile, as he slid into the other arm chair and curled his long legs underneath him. Harry wondered what he was referring to, until he realised that were he to close his eyes, he would be able to tell Draco exactly who was where in the coffee shop and who they should be wary of.
The man sitting in the window, for example, had no paper and was staring intently at his mug, clearly psyching himself up for something. Harry was certain it was something innocent; he was probably going to give his boss a piece of his mind when he returned to work, but until he left, Harry was going to remain aware.
'You know I don't even realise I'm doing it anymore,' Harry admitted, slightly embarrassed that his paranoia had been spotted.
'It's alright,' Draco reassured, 'I do it, too. Notice the guy by the window?' He grinned slyly when Harry nodded.
'What do you reckon?' Draco continued. 'Quitting his job, breaking up with his girlfriend, or holding up the coffee shop?' he asked.
Harry grinned back. Paranoia was never half as embarrassing when the other person was paranoid, too.
'I'd say his boss is going to get a nasty surprise, though I suppose it's possible his girlfriend might because he's clearly gay,' Harry speculated and was rewarded when Draco snorted inelegantly into his coffee. 'If he is going to go for option three, however, I can't help but pity him.' Harry paused and turned to meet amused grey eyes. 'Because with the two of us here, he really doesn't stand a chance.'
Draco chuckled. 'No, I think we've had enough practice on each other over the years to fully perfect our creative hex work.' Draco continued to hold Harry's gaze for a moment before it slipped towards the marked area of Harry's jaw and a small frown creased the pale brow.
'Harry, what happened to your face?'
Harry's hand drifted instinctively to his tender jaw and rubbed the affected area.
'Ron,' he explained simply and watched as Draco's mouth dropped open slightly in surprise, giving Harry just a glimpse of straight, white teeth, before he realised that he was staring at Draco's mouth and dropped his gaze to the table again.
'The Weasel hit you?' Draco asked, the pitch of his voice rising in surprise and, to Harry's immense pleasure, a touch of anger. Still, he prickled slightly at the insulting nickname and thought for a moment about chastising Draco, before realising that the venom which had issued from Ron the week before was much more offensive than a simple nickname; he decided to let it go.
'He did,' Harry confirmed with a nod of his head. He realised that he rather enjoyed Draco being horrified on his behalf and so decided to elaborate. 'He punched me in the face, breaking my jaw, and kicked me, breaking a rib.' He placed a hand over his chest where the footprint-shaped bruise had long since dissipated, thanks to his own effectiveness with healing charms.
'What the fuck did he do that for?' Draco's anger caused something warm to curl in Harry's chest.
'Because I broke up with his sister,' Harry explained, finally accepting that he may have been slightly culpable for Ron's reaction. Draco's anger faded into confusion and Harry mourned its loss slightly.
'I thought you broke up last year?' Draco asked suddenly.
'Yeah, we did but… wait, how did you know that?' Harry asked, confused; he really couldn't imagine that Draco had the opportunity to keep up with the Hogwarts rumour mill last year. Draco flushed slightly.
'I was back there last year, for a couple of months in the autumn,' Draco explained and Harry was surprised at just how easily they had strayed into what, for any one else, was a forbidden subject. 'Not for long, of course, but he tried to use me to spy on the other students. Stupid fucking plan,' he spat bitterly, 'as if any of them were going to trust me, and of course by then I was loath passing on what little information I could garner.' He paused and sipped at his coffee and Harry watched, mesmerised, as the tip of a pink tongue appeared to swipe foamy milk from his lip.
'Anyway, I was wandering around one evening and I heard voices coming from an alcove near the library. It was the Weaselette,' he explained. 'She was talking to that blond boy, Smith?' he asked, looking at Harry for confirmation. 'Anyway, the one who looks a little like a pig,' Draco elaborated, and it was Harry's turn to issue an inelegant snort.
'Yes, that's the one,' Draco said mischievously before becoming serious again. 'Anyway, I heard your name mentioned and I…' a pink tinge crept onto Draco's face, 'I eavesdropped.' Something heavy settled in Harry's stomach as realisation hit him hard.
'It's okay, Draco,' Harry explained quickly, 'we all had to do things to survive that we wouldn't have done under normal circumstances,' he explained.
A look of horror settled on Draco's face and he shook his head rapidly, causing blond hair to fall into his eyes. Harry longed to reach forward and brush it back.
'No, shit, no that wasn't what I…,' he paused, taking a breath. 'I wasn't trying to gather information for him, Harry. I was looking for a little hope, was all,' he explained, looking intently at the table. 'From the moment they took the Manor, I promised myself that I would help you in any way possible. Your side weren't just going to believe me, however, so I had to get information wherever I could.'
'Oh,' Harry said, knowing his response was completely inadequate but it was all he could get past the fluttering that was occurring in his chest. 'Well thank…' He was immediately cut off by a stern look from Draco, which very clearly said, 'Don't!'
'I'm sure I had a point to this story,' Draco said vaguely, after a moment or two's silence. Harry gazed off towards the front of the café, trying to reclaim the errant threads of their conversation from the air.
'Ginny, you were surprised that we'd broken up,' Harry said triumphantly, looking back at Draco.
'Yes, well, she was there in that alcove, with Smith, and they were getting awfully friendly, if you catch my drift,' Draco added pointedly, 'and he asked about you, and she told him that the two of you had split up,' he explained.
Harry smiled darkly.
'We had,' Harry confirmed. 'I knew that, Hermione knew that, hell, even you knew that, but it would seem that Ginny had conveniently forgotten that fact. I went to talk to her about it and she started spouting all this crap about how we were supposed to get married and have kids.'
'Fuck,' Draco whispered in a tone that was something akin to awe. 'Is she completely deranged?' he asked and Harry couldn't help but laugh as Draco reached across the table and grasped his hand in both of his, adopting a mock earnest expression.
'Look, Harry, I know you've just got done saving the world and all. And I know we haven't seen each other in a year, whilst you've been running around the country destroying Voldemort. And I know I've been shacked up with a Hufflepuff with the hygiene habits of a farmyard animal. But you've had two weeks to get over this now, so it's time for you to marry and impregnate me.' Draco looked at him expectantly, still managing not to crack a smile, so Harry decided to play along and he covered Draco's hands with his still-free right hand.
'Well, with an offer like that, how could I possibly refuse?' Harry responded dramatically, holding Draco's gaze for a moment before they both fell back in their chairs laughing. As the laughter faded Harry stretched out in his chair and admired Draco's flushed cheeks and easy smile as he peered into his now empty coffee cup and with a grace that Harry could only dream of extracted himself from the deep armchair.
'Same again?' he asked, eyebrow quirked in a delicate arch as he pointed towards Harry's cup. Harry blinked, slightly surprised and then nodded his assent.
'Thanks,' he agreed and relaxed in his chair as he watched Draco walk up to lean casually on the counter and flirt with the barista. His gaze slid appreciatively over the other man's body. Having discarded his jacket on the back of his chair, Harry was able to fully appreciate the way the pale blue t-shirt clung to the muscles of his arms and torso. The dark jeans were neither too tight nor too baggy and showed off his arse beautifully. Harry found himself cocking his head slightly as he considered it and realised only a moment too late that Draco had caught him looking.
The shit-eating smirk that was plastered to Draco's face as he returned to their table with the mugs of coffee caused Harry's face to flush and after thanking Draco for his drink, he struggled for the first thing he could think of to say before Draco got chance to ask, no doubt smugly, what he had been looking at.
'So you know how my week has been, what about you?' Harry asked and he saw Draco's smile falter and fade.
'What, what is it?' he asked, the joviality of the moment before completely forgotten, as he regarded Draco's somewhat ashen face. Draco appeared to be fighting something of an internal battle with himself, as he stared at the table and Harry reasoned that it was probably his pride fighting his desire to share. Eventually Draco leaned backwards and fixed him with an expression that spoke volumes about the fate would that befall Harry should he even think about betraying his trust.
'It's my mother,' he said at last and Harry waited, patiently sipping his coffee, for Draco to elucidate further.
'She was taken ill this week,' Draco explained. 'She's been admitted to a hospital.'
'Do you mind if I ask what's wrong?' Harry asked, wanting Draco to talk but not wanting to pry if it were a delicate matter.
'Irreversible spell damage,' Draco said, exhaling heavily, 'Imperius and Obliviate, mother could be somewhat recusant at times.' A small smile played over Draco's lips as he though of his mother and Harry felt himself matching it, thinking of the help Narcissa had given him in the forest. 'But now she's losing her memory,' Draco continued, sadly.
Harry nodded and closed his eyes, recalling the passage he had read on Imperius spell damage in one of the few medical textbooks he had managed to extract from the Black library before they had begun their journey last year.
'I know the condition.' Harry nodded sadly, and Draco looked up at him surprised.
'You do?'
'Mmm hmm,' Harry said, deciding not to elaborate, having read about it in a book couldn't even compare to what Draco must be going through.
'She was admitted to St Mungo's a week ago but I moved her at the weekend. I found this nice little hospital in Cornwall. All the residents have their own rooms, there are more staff, they have a garden too that looks out over the sea.' He paused. 'Mother always loved gardening,' he added, but Harry had a distinct feeling that he was talking to himself.
'Have you been to see her?' Harry asked carefully, not sure how advanced Narcissa's condition was and not sure if Draco knew how it was likely to progress.
'I go most days,' he admitted, 'but it's not always worth it. Some days she recognises me, some days she doesn't even remember she has a son.' Draco gazed up at the ceiling, eyes suspiciously bright and Harry did him the courtesy of looking away. 'Funnily enough it's the days that she does recognise me that are the hardest. She doesn't remember why she's there and begs me to take her home with me.'
'When I went yesterday, she was having trouble forming sentences,' Draco admitted. 'I spoke to the Healer there; he said the progression was really aggressive, very rapid, he's not sure how much longer her lucidity will remain and after that goes…' He closed his eyes, clearly unable to verbalise the inevitable conclusion to that sentence just yet.
'Fuck, Draco I'm so sorry. That's just awful. After everything you've been through, your mother's been through…' Harry trailed off. There were so many people who deserved better than the post-war world offered them but did recognising it really make it any better?
Draco finally met his eyes again and gave him a small sad smile.
'At least I got a little longer with her,' he said pointedly, silver eyes flashing with intensity and Harry realised that Draco was thanking him. Harry coloured and inspected his shoes.
A brief silence fell over them, and Harry recognised it immediately; they had reached the Rubicon. If they could find a way past this silence, they would be fine; if not, then that would be it.
'You know, I still don't understand why the Weasel decided that beating up the Boy Who Lived would help matters, for that matter how in the name of Merlin did he manage to beat you up? It's an incredible mismatch, you know?'
'Ah well, Hermione described Ron once as having the emotional depth of a teaspoon. Anger is one of the few emotions he actually understands,' Harry reviled. Squashing down the wave of guilt he felt at insulting his oldest friend and smiling when Draco chuckled darkly.
'As for how he managed it, I sort of let him,' Harry admitted, realising the truth as he said it.
'Why would you do that?' Draco asked, cup paused halfway to his mouth, a look of horror on his face.
'To get it over with? To keep the high ground? Because I felt I deserved it? Any and or all of the above?' Harry shrugged and Draco shook his head disbelievingly.
'You really are sickeningly noble at times, you know that?' Draco said, exasperated.
'It's been said,' Harry admitted. 'It's just Ron's a very tactile person, he'll feel guilty in a few days and he'll apologise when he gets back,' Harry explained.
'And you'll accept it, won't you?' Draco asked with a touch of awe.
'Sure, as long as he means it, we're friends, and friends forgive each other,' Harry said and realised that he was no longer talking about Ron. He smiled warmly at Draco and was rewarded by the most beautiful, unguarded smile he had ever seen; his heart leapt.
He was blushing again, and he glanced around the coffee shop in the hope of a mild distraction. He was surprised to find, that at some point in his conversation with Draco, he had become completely unaware of his surroundings. The bustle in the Café was gone, as had the clientele; most of the chairs had been stacked on the tables and the girl who had looked so delighted when Draco had flirted with her earlier, was now looking rather irritable. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was ten minutes to six. The shop would be closing in a moment, and the girl looked like she already had one foot out the door.
'I think we've outstayed our welcome.' Harry smirked at Draco and was delighted to see the utter surprise register on the other boy's face when he realised how long they had been talking.
Harry gathered up their cups and deposited them on the counter as Draco shot the girl an ingratiating smile, to be rewarded by the softening of the scowl. In front of the coffee shop Harry watched as Draco dithered for a moment in a most un-Malfoy like way before realising the problem and offering a solution.
'If you don't have anything to do this evening, you could come back to my place,' he suggested. 'I'll make us something to eat, and I think I have a couple of bottles of elderflower champagne in the cupboard. We can celebrate the end of our enmity, what do you say?' Harry was instantly rewarded by another bright smile.
'You can cook? Really? I don't believe you,' he challenged. 'I'm going to have to accept your offer now just so that you don't continue to spread such fallacious hyperbole about yourself. You're already a hero for crying out loud, you start laying claim to domestic talents as well and the rest of us are doomed.'
Harry grinned at Draco's heartfelt and enthusiastic acceptance.
'Prepare to eat your words, Malfoy,' Harry teased. 'Which tonight, will be served with the best braised shoulder of lamb you have ever tasted!' he boasted, after quickly running a mental inventory of the contents of his kitchen.
Draco smiled at him gratefully and Harry pointed them in the direction of his home. As they walked back through the city the noises of traffic and the smells of the restaurants starting to prepare began to fade, to be replaced by the sound of children laughing and shouting in the parks and the scent of grass and the odd barbeque. They walked silently side by side and Harry couldn't help but sneak the occasional sidelong glance at Draco, watching as the breeze lifted his hair occasionally, causing it to dance around his face.
As they turned into Grimmauld Place, Draco's demeanour altered slightly and Harry felt obliged to ask what was on his mind.
'I thought this place was under Fidelius?' he asked cautiously, 'At least that's what mother always told him, Snape too.'
'It was, but Dumbledore was the secret keeper and when he died…' Harry thought briefly about saying something to set Draco at ease, but dismissed all possible platitudes, deciding that acknowledging Draco's discomfort at this point would simply exacerbate it. So he simply headed up the steps and unlocked the door.
When he turned, Draco was still standing at the bottom of the steps, looking up at the house diffidently.
'I didn't kill him,' he blurted suddenly, and Harry felt his eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
'I know,' he stated in what he hoped was a reassuring tone and added, 'Coming?' giving a flick of his head to encourage Draco inside.
It was Draco's turn to look surprised now, but he forsook comment and followed Harry up the stairs and into the house.
'Kitchen's this way.' Harry pointed after he'd removed his wallet and keys from his pockets and dropped them into the dish by the door. Draco followed with something of a wide eyed curiosity as he took in his surroundings.
Once in the kitchen, Harry turned his attention to the preparation of their dinner, deciding to give Draco a chance to settle. He was just ready to begin searing the lamb when Draco finally spoke from his place at the kitchen table.
'This place is nothing like I remember it,' he said conversationally and Harry looked at him, surprised.
'You've been here before?' Harry asked, trying to think when Draco could possibly have had cause to be inside Grimmauld.
'I was... maybe seven?' Great Aunt Walburga fell very ill and Mother wanted to come and see her, in case it was the last time.' A small wicked smile played over Draco's lips and Harry was grateful to see it. 'Or perhaps it was in the hope that it was the last time,' he snickered. 'She was an evil old bat!'
Harry grinned. 'I know, I had to deal with her portrait for two years, that woman was venomous,' he agreed.
'Why didn't you just take the portrait down?'
'Permanent Sticking Charm,' Harry explained. 'In the end I had to remove all the panelling to get her down.' He then paused wondering if he should tell Draco about Walburga's fate. She may not have been his favourite aunt but still, he might not appreciate how disrespectfully she was being treated.
'What did you do with her?' Draco asked, an evil glint in his eye.
'She's in the shed,' Harry explained, delighted when Draco exploded with laughter.
'Serves her right,' he said darkly. 'So, what happened to this place? Last time I was here it was like a Dark Arts museum. Before we came, I distinctly remember my mother telling me to 'eat nothing, drink nothing, touch nothing,' in one of her very stern voices.'
'I thought it could do with a little renovation,' Harry explained, sliding the casserole dish into the oven and retrieving the champagne and glasses.
'You did a good job,' Draco said admiringly and smiled warmly as Harry popped the cork and poured two glasses of the sweet, fizzy liquid before sliding into the chair opposite Draco and sipping his drink. The effervescence of it, combined with Harry's lack of anything resembling real food since breakfast that morning, caused the alcohol to go straight to his head.
Harry had to wonder at the acumen of getting drunk around someone towards whom he was barely able to control his tactile desires whilst fully sober. 'Fuck it,' he thought and took another long sip.
'Where did you get this from?' Draco asked suddenly, breaking the rather comfortable silence that had settled in the kitchen.
'Molly Weasley,' Harry explained. 'When I moved back here after the battle she gave me this enormous hamper of food; she was concerned that I was going to starve.' Harry rolled his eyes and was surprised when Draco gave something that sounded curiously like a giggle.
'You're close with the Weasleys, aren't you?' Draco's tone was contemplative and Harry didn't miss the fact that he abandoned the derogatory nickname.
'I was,' Harry agreed darkly. 'I should imagine that they are collectively planning my murder right now, though.
'Does Ginny have the chance of winning her way back into your good graces, you know in the long run?' Draco asked mildly and Harry was forced to clamp his hand over his mouth to avoid spraying Draco with his drink.
'Hell no,' Harry remonstrated. 'Definitely not, I'm fond of her family and everything but if that's the price I'm going to have to pay for my freedom then so be it,' he continued somewhat passionately.
'Well, it's not like you're stuck for choice after all,' Draco ruminated as Harry rose to check on their meal and began dishing up.
'You are the 'Boy Who Lived' after all,' Draco continued, managing to inject just enough contempt into his media-styled title, to remind Harry that he was talking to a Malfoy. 'I'm sure the girls will be lining up for a chance to be your girlfriend,' he added and Harry detected the smallest touch of bitterness in his voice.
Harry gathered plates and cutlery and rejoined Draco at the table, sliding his plate towards him before he offered an answer.
'To be honest, I just don't think I have much luck with women,' Harry mused, spearing a potato.
'Ah yes, the Cho thing.' Draco nodded knowledgeably as he began to attack his dinner.
'How do you know about that?' Harry sputtered, earning himself an eye roll in return.
'Come on, Harry, I'm a Slytherin, gossip is what we were born for,' Draco enthused, somewhat dramatically and Harry laughed.
'I'm serious, you name any person in our year and I will tell you what the gossip about them is,' Draco smirked.
'Okay,' Harry mused, drawing out the word as he tried to think.
'Seamus Finnigan,' Harry settled on suddenly, really wanting to play this game and not wanting to stump Draco on his first try.
'Well I heard it from Millicent, who heard it from a girl in the year below us, but apparently he really likes being spanked.' Draco raised a punctuating eyebrow and Harry groaned.
'No, no, you're making it up, or at least I hope you are,' Harry groaned and Draco grinned.
'I'm not claiming its true, that's just the gossip that's circulating about him,' Draco defended.
'Okay then, Neville Longbottom,' Harry said, driven by a somewhat sick curiosity.
'Having an affair with Professor Sprout,' Draco offered, smiling lazily
'Oh man, that's just wrong. Anthony Goldstein,' Harry tried looking for someone a little more obscure and trying to stump Draco. The other boy's eyes flashed as he recognised the challenge and he leaned smugly back in his chair.
'Now this one is interesting, rumour is that Goldstein has an odd looking…' and he held up his index finger, wiggling it demonstratively.
Harry's eyebrows shot up and he thought about that for a moment.
'That one's true.' Harry nodded and Draco's eyes widened, his mouth falling open slightly.
'And you know that because…?' he asked, barely able to keep the laughter from his voice.
'Oh, shit, no, nothing like that' Harry protested, laughing as he caught up with what Draco was assuming. 'Goldstein, he's going to be Jewish isn't he?' Harry explained but Draco just frowned.
'I don't know what that is or why it would make a difference,' Draco pointed out.
'Of course,' Harry nodded and was suddenly hit with the realisation that he was sitting in his kitchen eating lamb, drinking champagne and explaining the intricacies of Judaism to Draco Malfoy. He wanted to say stranger things had happened but he wasn't sure they had.
'Judaism is a Muggle religion,' Harry explained, 'and when the boys are born they get…' Harry made a cutting motion with his fingers. 'Goldstein is a Jewish name so I imagine Anthony's been circumcised.'
'That's barbaric!' Draco protested, a horrified look on his face.
'Apparently they barely feel it,' Harry explained, deflecting Draco's indignation.
'But why?' the other boy implored, still looking slightly green.
'That, I don't know, tradition?' he suggested, shrugging
Draco closed his eyes and shook his head with an exaggerated shiver.
'I will never understand Muggles,' he confirmed definitively, 'and now I'm no longer sure that I want to.'
'Let's move you back into your comfort zone, more gossip?' Harry suggested. 'Parvati Patil?' he asked, pleased when Draco's cunning smile returned.
'Has a very 'close' relationship with her twin,' Draco implied. Harry laughed again.
'You're fucking evil, Draco.'
'So they say.' Draco smirked.
An hour later they found themselves curled on Harry's comfy leather sofa with fresh cups of coffee. Each occupied their own end and their feet drawn underneath them as the turned to face each other. The jocular high spirits of the dinner table had faded leaving behind a comfortable companionship which Harry was rather delighted with.
'You said before that you knew about Dumbledore,' Draco clarified, breaking the silence and Harry nodded, no longer frightened that addressing such a potentially emotional subject would be anything but easy with Draco.
'I did,' he confirmed.
'How?' Draco asked, though Harry could see that he already knew the answer.
'I was there, under my cloak,' he explained. 'We'd been out on a mission and Dumbledore had been injured. I was just on my way to get help when you appeared and he froze me in place.'
'So you saw everything?' Draco asked, refusing to meet Harry's eyes.
'I did,' he confirmed and Draco gave a sad little smile.
'So, that's why you've been so quick to forgive me,' he muttered.
'I think I would have forgiven you either way Draco,' Harry said, only realising the truth of the statement as it passed his lips. 'I know you didn't choose to do that stuff for the fun of it, your family were at risk. If someone were threatening the Weasleys or Hermione, I can't say that I would have done any different.'
Draco glanced at the wall clock and issued a pained sigh.
'I suppose I should probably get going,' he suggested, struggling to his feet only to fall back down again as the alcohol he had consumed soundly reasserted itself.
'You don't have to, you know,' Harry said, and realised that admitting he had noticed Draco's discomfort at the thought of his home, might not be the best idea. 'Besides, I'm not sure I can allow you to Apparate in that condition. You'll splinch yourself,' he covered as smoothly as he could manage.
Draco eyed him wearily for a moment before appearing to give in.
'You really don't mind?' he asked and Harry shook his head.
'The Manor was never a particularly busy or noisy place,' Draco explained leaning slowly back in the cushion and stretching out so his feet lay next to Harry's thigh. 'Until last year, I suppose,' Draco added darkly and a shadow fell across his face as he thought of Voldemort's intrusion. 'But before that, it wasn't like we spent all our time together when I was home,' he continued and Harry found himself beginning to stroke the beautifully arched foot absently.
'Days would go by where I wouldn't see either one of my parents from dawn to dusk,' he continued, allowing his head to drop back against the arm of the sofa. When the journey of Harry's hand stilled, because he was focusing intently on the sharp angles and smooth lines of Draco's jaw, Draco nudged his hand until the stroking resumed.
'Still, even then it didn't feel like it does now, it feels empty, everything echoes and it's cold all the time.' As Draco explained, Harry lost himself in watching the bobbing of the other boy's Adam's apple and found himself wondering what the smooth, creamy skin might taste like, were he to reach across and allow his mouth to explore the contours of Draco's throat.
'That sounds really stupid, doesn't it?' Draco asked, looking up at Harry sharply and Harry shook his head fiercely as much to clear his wandering imagination as to dispute Draco's sudden insecurity.
'It doesn't sound stupid at all,' Harry countered, struggling to form the words in his somewhat arid mouth. 'Bad events leave a scar on a place,' he reasoned, 'and the manor has seen its fair share of bad events.'
They lapsed back into silence again and before long Harry heard the deep even breathing that indicated Draco had fallen asleep. Smiling to himself, he carefully extricated himself from the sofa and regarded the sleeping Draco as the warm feeling swirled in his gut once more. Blond hair fanned across slightly flushed cheeks and a couple of strands stuck to his full, pink bottom lip.
Impulsively, Harry reached out to brush away the errant hair and was rewarded when Draco turned into the gentle touch, a small smile gracing the slightly open mouth. Harry smiled affectionately as he recovered a blanket and draped it over Draco before returning to his bedroom, already eagerly anticipating the Draco-related dreams that his subconscious was sure to reward him with.
-Well there we go they're finally in the same chapter. Reviews are greatly appreciated as this is my first ever chaptered fiction and I'd love some idea how it's going.