D.P.O.V.
The next morning seemingly appeared in a blink of an eye. I hadn't slept that soundly for months, which was odd considering who was sleeping on my couch. Rolling over, I peered at my alarm through one groggy eye: eight thirty in the morning. Not too bad. I sat up, blankets pooling around my hips as I did so. A groan and several pops followed as I stretched. Getting up, I padded across the flat to my coffee maker. A quick glanced revealed that Potter hadn't moved at all in the night. I mean, the couch was big enough to sleep comfortably, but even I flipped and flopped when I lay on it.
With a shrug, I went about my normal morning routine, consisting of making coffee and showering. By the time I finished my shower, Potter was already up and was helping himself to a mug of coffee. Going out to the hall, I picked up the muggle paper I'd order a few months ago. It was nice little investment I found out. It is so much different than the Prophet; much more to the point, since muggles save the gossip for the magazines. I flop the paper on the counter and get my own coffee, "Moring Potter."
He nodded and sipped his coffee. The tattoo proved not to be a figment of my overly tired mind as it was still there. Now that it was closer I could see some words underneath the pentagram with flames surrounding it. I walked over to my easy chair and tucked my feet up. That's when I heard him snicker, "What Potter?"
"Dude, is that really how you sit?
"What of it?"
"That's how women sit, usually mothers," His grin widened as I huffed and dropped my feet to the floor. "So? What does it matter how I sit?" It was true though, I'd only ever seen my mother and Minerva sit like that. It was comfortable! Potter's chuckles continued as he sipped his coffee. It was entirely weird…having playful conversation with Potter, seeing as seven months ago, we would have gladly hexed each other. It was definitely something I thought I'd never see.
Time passed like that, the two of us, snarking back and forth over coffee in pajamas. I learnt of Bobby and Ellen, Potter's new parent figures he'd picked up He adamantly denied that they were a thing, but also said the way they danced around each other left little to the imagination. Jo, who was Ellen's daughter was our age; Dean, also our age, and Sam, three years younger, were a couple of kids that Bobby was sometimes dropped on by their shitty father. Oh yes, I heard about John Winchester. Sound like a right dick he did.
When I asked about his new job and what he was doing back in England though, he clamed right up.
"You never did tell me what you were doing now. I mean, you said it saves lives and all, but what is it?" I was grateful I didn't have anything to do today.
Potter shifted, tugging on the pajama bottoms he still wore, though it was closing in on noon, "It's not much, pretty uncommon. Not many take it up as a profession. Merlin knows it's got crappy pay," He shrugged.
"Details…?" I press.
His face screwed up, "Well, I get to travel some, a nice car out of it, but that's it really it. It's really pretty lame."
"Nothing I've ever known you to do has ever been lame. Why should your job be any different? And why the States?" I put my empty mug on the table and stood to stretch some.
"I told you, I had to leave England; too much going on. So I left. Hell, I avoided Europe as a whole, just to start over." I nodded, he had said that. It was a little sad to hear that a country had driven its own savior out because its press was to nosey. Suddenly – and I didn't know why I hadn't thought of it before – a thought occurred.
"Are they wizards?" I ask mid stretch. Potter for his part didn't act like it was an odd question.
"Ellen is, a pureblood from up East, Jo too. The rest? No. They all know about it though, well aside from John."
"So they know about the war, and you?"
Potter nodded, "To a point. They know the basics and my part in it all. But other than that…" He trailed off with a shrug.
"They don't hold you up on a pedestal I take it."
He shook his head, "No for which I am grateful." Potter's phone went off then, the caller I.D. making his face light up. Answering it, he pressed the cell to his ear, "Hey Bobby, what's up?" Hearing such an American phrase was jarring. Whatever he was hearing though made him tense up, "Alright, I'll get the thing tonight and take the first flight out tomorrow morning. Tell Sammy I'll be there soon as I can." He snapped the phone shut and tossed it on the table before gathering up his clothes.
"What's wrong?"
"Sammy's sick. His bloody dick of a father dropped him on Bobby with a bottle of cold syrup. Bobby says it's pretty bad and he's asking for me. Hey, do you have any pneumonia draughts kicking around here?"
"Not currently, bad I can make some up. It'll take a few hours," I check the clock: twelve thirty, "I can have them by six tonight."
"Good, great. I'll be back by then."
"You're leaving?"
"I've got to finish this job before I go. The sooner I get it done, the sooner I can go home." He ran for the bathroom to change. I nodded though he couldn't see. Deciding I had better get started, I went over to the closet that held my potions things. In no time at all, I had everything I needed set up and was chopping away when Potter blew through the flat, "I'll be back before six…hopefully."
I nodded, not looking away from my hands, "Don't have too much fun." It was only a crappy joke, but he laughed anyways as the door closed.
Two hours slipped by before I was able to step away from the cauldron. All that was left was to let it simmer for three and a half hours. It wasn't a necessarily a hard potion, just time consuming. Which wasn't a bad thing since it distracted me from thinking about how domestic Potter and I had been acting. Gah! First pleasant conversation over coffee in pajamas, then offering to brew up a potion for a kid I didn't even know, and a joke out the door! Sure domestic probably wasn't the right word for it, as we were not together, but I could easily imagine being like that with someone. It was a scary thought.
I finally decided to get in some real clothes, mulling over how proud Granger would be if she had seen us that morning. Thinking of her reminded me that I had to drop some potions off with her. Apparently, Weasley hadn't quite left her all alone. The babe was due sometime in December. Once I'd shucked on some decent clothing, I snapped up the prenatal potions I'd brewed specially for her. I didn't know why, but Hermione only trusted Severus or me to brew them, and with Sev still recovering from Nagini's bite, it was up to me.
Setting up a watch over charm on the cauldron, I floo'd over to her flat. For several months pregnant, Hermione is looking damn fine. She was laid out on her couch, wild hair pinned up, book clenched it hand. The hair was very telling. For whatever reason, I've noticed, that whenever her hair was up, she was craving. Good thing I knew where the peanut butter and marshmallows were.
I cleared my throat, "Hello Hermione," The witch startled and brightened when she saw me.
"Hey Draco! What brings you by?" She tried to heave off the couch, which I stopped by setting a hand on her shoulder, "Just bringing by your potions."
"Oh thank you. I just finished the ones I had yesterday." I walk past her into the kitchen, setting the potions in their cabinet. While I was there, I put water on to boil, and made up a plate of peanut butter, crackers and marshmallows for her.
"I saw Potter today," I say, making conversation. She smiled at that, "Oh? How is the little prat?"
"Just fine I suppose. We talked about his new job and him living in the States." I put the tray of food on the little table beside the couch before watching her grin and pop a marshmallow in her mouth, "Just what I was thinking, thank you. So, what's his new job then?" She spread some peanut butter on a cracker.
"He won't give me an actual name to call it. He only says it's uncommon and that it saves people." She snorted at that, laying a hand over her bump. The little bugger was definitely active. I watch with a smile as the babe kicked his mama's fingers. Surprising me, Hermione grabbed by hand and pressed my finger just above the babe's feet. Sensing what its mama wanted, it kicked my fingers. It was entirely memorizing. Hermione giggled, "If only I had a camera. Draco your face is priceless."
"I'm sure," I murmured, spreading my fingers wide. It was the first time I'd felt the babe – first time she'd let me.
"It's wonderful Hermione." We stayed like that for awhile, her snacking, my hand on her belly. I knew now why Potter though of her as a sister, she was too amazing not to love.
Time flew by quickly and before I realized it, it was time for me to go. Standing up, I patted her on the head, "I must be off, got a potion to attend to."
"Alright if you must. Oh wait, I wanted to ask you something,"
"Go for it."
"I'll be asking Harry when I see him as well, so don' feel weird, but will you be the godfather?" She looked at me with her doe eyes. I smiled, "Of course." She grinned and I bent to kiss the top of her head before leaving.
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Not ten seconds after I finished bottling the last of the pneumonia draught when Potter walked in the flat like he owned it. I was preparing to nag him for it before I saw that he was bleeding, "Merlin Potter," I cry, grabbing a healing draught, "What happened?" He didn't answer as he plopped himself in a chair at my dining table. Throwing off his shoulder he hissed and gripped his shoulder
"What. Happened. Potter?" I say using my healer's voice, which only made him snort, "Got shot; went clean through." He finished stripping off his shirt. I looked at the bullet wounds – front and back – on his left shoulder, inches from the tattoo.
"You're lucky it did, now drink this." I pressed the healing draught into his hand. He drank it no complaints, and the wound stopped bleeding and closed slightly.
"I'll still need to wrap it." Potter nodded and dropped his head back on the chair. I gathered what I needed in silence. Only when I was sitting in front of him, halfway through wrapping did I speak, "What's it mean?"
"What does what mean?" He mumbled back.
"Your tattoo,"
"Oh. 'Family doesn't end in blood.' It's something Bobby told me." I nodded and finished. I got up and tossed him a clean T-shirt. Potter was quiet as he slipped the shirt on. Sitting in my chair, I tucked my feet up like I had earlier, I picked up the book I'd started reading a few days ago. Potter wandered over and fell face first onto the couch with a groan.
"So, what exactly did you do tonight?" I ask still looking at my book.
"Finish my job." His voice was muffled in the pillow from the night before.
"Do I get any details?"
"Nope,"
"No fair,"
"I never claimed to be fair." He held up one finger. I sigh and look at him, "You haven't changed at all have you?" He looked at me, propping his chin on the pillow, "In seven months? You'd be surprised."
"Oh yeah? How have you changed then?" He didn't answer.
"Are you ever going to tell me anything about this new life of yours?"
"Already have."
"You've told me names and place."
"That's all there is to tell." His head dropped back to the pillow and I whacked his head with my book.
"Hey!"
"If we're going back tomorrow, I'll need to know more."
"Whoa whoa, what do you mean 'we?'" Potter sat up and turned towards me, mouth open and glasses sliding down his nose.
"We, you know, plural."
"What makes you think your coming?"
"The fact that you came ripping through my door at eleven o'clock at night running for your life once again. I'll be damned if I'm not curious as to what caused that." I tossed my book onto the table; Potter just stared at me, "No."
"What do you mean?"
"No. Now I know you've probably never heard the phrase in your life-"
"I've been told no!"
"Good, then you know what it means. You're not coming." Potter stood up and started throwing his things in his bag, which he'd brought with him this time.
"Your balls I'm not." I stood up this time. If precious Potter thought I wasn't a part of this, he was only fooling himself. No one blows through my door without me finding out why.
"Why is this a big deal to you? It's not your problem."
"You made it my problem by coming here with a shot up shoulder!"
"Let it go Draco!" Potter shouted. I took a step back from him. Where had that come from? I watched in silence as he went for the door, grabbing the pneumonia draughts on his way, "I've got to go book a flight. Thanks for letting me stay here and for brewing these." He mumbled.
"Harry wait; I didn't mean to push it." I shocked myself with his given name falling from my lips. I don't think I've ever addressed him as such. It did get him to stop though, which was good. He sighed, shoulders dropping, "I know. It's just…I don't want them to be messed up, by bringing any part of my life to them."
"I understand, really." I say quietly.
"No I don't think you do. Do you even realize how messed up I am?" He turned and squinted at me, like willing me to understand. I did though, I truly did.
"Look, I'm about as messed as you are. Voldemort breathing down your neck isn't all peaches and cream you know."
"Well at least you didn't have him in your head!" Harry hissed. For the first time since the Hogwarts Battle did he look like the deadly hero he was portrayed as.
"No, I didn't, but that doesn't make you the only victim here. I was forced to do things to do things too." I say as steady as I can, Malfoy mask actually falling into place.
Harry scowled, lip curling, "Oh like you didn't enjoy it!" That snapped whatever control I might have had/ Slamming his ass to the wall, I press my forearm against his neck, not hard enough to cut off air, but enough to keep him in place.
"You think I enjoyed hurting people? Taking the Dark Mark? Bowing to a madman for the sake of my life?!" My voice came out as a growl, "Maybe you've cracked your last marble if you think I 'enjoyed' any of it!" I shove away from him. Harry didn't move for a minute and I kept my back to him. It was only when I heard the door click that I dropped into my chair.
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H.P.O.V.
I left. It was all I could do. Anything I said after that would have only made everything worse. I sighed and thunked my head on the airport chair. My flight didn't leave until two A.M and it was only nine P.M. It was definitely going to be a long night. I had already checked into the right terminal, which thankfully had decent food courts inside. I'd also already bought a small neck pillow, wishing I was at Malfoy's. At least there I had a couch to crash on. Honestly, I was shocked he let me stay, more or less brew a potion for a kid he didn't even know. For which I was completely grateful. Then I had to go and screw it up, me and my big mouth. He wasn't entirely guiltless, my mind argued. I told it to shut up. Truth be told, it was my fault that he snapped. Malfoy was right though; I wasn't the only victim.
Something about saying he understood pushed a button I didn't know I had. I've spent months convincing myself that nobody understood what I had gone through and never would. All he'd wanted was to meet the people I now called family. It was innocent enough sure, but I suppose that old habits die hard. I couldn't get any privacy during the war, with the Prophet up my ass all day. I don't know why I'd thought that Draco Malfoy would do the same as those pricks. He wasn't going to twist my life into an article for money. Without much more thought, I pull my cell from my pocket and dial his number. I'd gotten it from Hermione with a command to trust him. She hadn't been wrong yet. The phone picked up on the third ring.
"Hello?" I kicked myself when I heard how exhausted he sounded.
"Malfoy, it's me." I hoped he recognized my voice for the sake of less embarrassment.
"Oh; what do you want?" His voice turned icy and I knew that Malfoy Mask was in place.
"You can come. To the States I mean."
"You…want me to come…to the States with you."
"Yeah," Stupid! 'Yeah?' Was that really all I could think of to say? Apparently. I nearly groaned at my lack of explanation.
"Why the sudden change of mind?" Ah, the million dollar question. Why had I changed my mind?
"Well, I realized that I acted foolishly I can get…a little protective of my new life." Malfoy snorted on the other side of the call, "What, you think I'm gonna sell you life for a prophet?" My silence must have been answer enough because he gasped, "You did, didn't you?"
"Yeah a little," I let my head hang forward. It sounded so much more stupid out loud than in my head. Malfoy chuckled, "I promise I'd do no such thing."
"Well then pack your shit and come with." He outright laughed at that which made me grin.
"Alright, alright What time does your flight leave?"
"Two A.M."
"I'll be there."
"Okay,"
"Alright, bye."
"Bye." I flipped my phone shut and tucked it in my pocket.
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Sure as shit, Malfoy showed up, a shoulder bag on him. I saw him go through the security, and then look a little lost as he cleared it. I stood and waved. Once he caught sight of me, he waved and came over, "I'm here."
"So I noticed. How long you pack for?"
"Couple weeks. Plus the rest of the pneumonia draughts you forgot." He smirked and I gave him a bitch face as Dean called it, "Slacks or jeans?"
"Slacks, why?" He really had no clue what he was getting into did he? I mean, I didn't intend to take him hunting but still, "Oh you're hopeless."
"What? How?" I laughed as he glared.
"Forget it," Malfoy huffed and plopped in a chair, thoroughly put out. I sat next to him and bump his shoulder with my own, "It's not a not a bad thing, just where we're going you won't need to be so formal."
"Yeah I figured, but I don't own any jeans anyways." Malfoy tried to play off like he was still mad, but I saw the little smile.
"We'll get you some, some good solid shirts too." I laughed as his face screwed up, "As long as it's not plaid."
"Oh but that's tradition!"
"No tradition I've ever heard of," his smile got a little wider.
It must have been later than I thought because the intercom came on, stating that our flight was now boarding. Twenty minutes later found us sitting next to each other on the plane. Now, it was just one long flight from here to Sioux Falls, South Dakota.