A/N: The title of this chapter and the pub it refers to is dedicated to my local, The Dog & Duck, where many a lovely Sunday lunch, Friday night post- work drinks and Saturday afternoon watching the football has been spent. In fact, I might go down there in a bit. Hair of the crup that bit you, and all that. (I'm this much of a loser in RL too. JSYK.)
Twitter and Tumblr girlies who rec my stuff make me giddy. Hello vampireisthenewblack!
And I've remembered what it was I meant to ask last time: I seemed to have developed a rather unhealthy yearning for some Harry/ Charlie Weasley slash. Don't judge- please just rec me something before I go mad. Kind regards, HFS xx

Chapter 5 The Crup & Duck

There was a light tapping on the kitchen window and Harry looked up from where he had a sleeping Bear tucked in the crook of his elbow. He got to his feet carefully, trying not to jostle the baby, and crossed to the window to take the letter from the owl who was almost certainly a grown up Pig.

Ron was back from… wherever he'd been since Peru, Harry supposed as he read the short note, and he wanted to meet up for a drink. Harry smirked to himself, thinking of how deliciously moody Draco would be at having to stay home and babysit while he went to the pub.

There was a slight smell of burning coming from the open door to the basement as Harry trudged down the stairs, noting with amusement how even while sleeping, Bear's hair turned violet in protest to the smell. There were other smells too; mint and smoke and… baby powder? What the hell was Draco brewing?

"What the hell are you brewing?" Harry asked from half way up the stairs.

Draco jumped but signalled for him to shush as he methodically counted stirring the potion before him. Harry sat down at the bench facing him and gently bounced the baby because his arm was falling asleep. He was growing quickly.

"NEWT stuff," Draco said eventually as he stoked the flames under his cauldron.

"I got a letter just now."

"Bully for you," Draco muttered as he poured over the textbook.

"It was from Ron. He wants to meet me tonight for a drink."

"So… what? You want me to watch Bear for the whole evening?"

"Well I'm not taking him to the pub," Harry said.

"Fine. But you owe me one."

"One what?"

"I don't know yet, do I," Draco huffed, exasperated. "I'll let you know when I decide."

Harry watched for a while in amused silence as Draco worked on three potions simultaneously; one of which was clearly Polyjuice but Harry wasn't about to tell him he'd forgotten the lacewing flies. The moment of comprehension as it dawned on Draco that he'd messed up the potion was comical - to say the least.

"Oh bollocks!" he spat.

"Lacewing flies," Harry said knowledgably.

"You git! You knew I'd missed them!"

Harry shrugged. "I'm not supposed to help. You made that perfectly clear last week."

"That's because you weren't helping, you were annoying me," Draco growled as he vanished the potion. "Now I have to start over."

Something swooped in Harry's stomach as he recognised one of the two remaining potions. "Is that Amortentia?"

"Uh, yeah," Draco muttered. "And it's being annoying," he directed to his cauldron, as if the potion cared.

"What's the third one?"

"It's a variation of Dreamless Sleep modified to be suitable for infants."

"Interesting."

"Yeah. So where are you going tonight?"

"Um… The Crup and Duck?"

Draco snorted. "Trust Weasley to pick that dive."

"Don't start," Harry warned him.

"Not saying a word," Draco said innocently, raising both his hands in mock- surrender.

Bear started to stir and Harry slid off the stool to go and make him some lunch. "Do you want anything to eat?"

"I'll be up in a bit," Draco said. Harry didn't believe him. Draco's definition of 'a bit' could be anything from five minutes to three hours.

Harry had to yell down to the basement three times to get Draco to come up for dinner. He used this as an excuse to get the other man to wash up and tidy up the kitchen, something Draco would probably have done anyway. It was becoming clear that Draco wasn't doing the cleaning because he felt he should, rather, he couldn't stand the mess. Harry usually let him get on with it. They hadn't tackled the issue of splitting the household chores; it was easier to just do what needed to be done and leave it at that. Discussing it would have likely ended in an argument.

"What does 'I open at the close' mean?"

Harry's head snapped up from were he's been playing with Bear on the floor in the living room. Draco was stood, leaning against the doorframe, as was his habit, with his arms folded across his chest.

"What?" he demanded.

"'I open at the close'. It's engraved on this snitch." Draco opened his hand and wings sprouted from the little golden ball; the snitch happily flew back to Harry, who was starting to believe that the ball had developed some kind of attachment to him.

Harry rolled his neck on his shoulders, shrugging off the tension that had gathered there. "It's something that Dumbledore put on there for me. It was a message."

"Oh." Silence. "What for?"

"Oh Draco, it's a long story, would you leave it for now?" Harry sighed.

"Sure," Draco agreed lightly. "I swear that thing likes you more than he likes me."

"Bear? Or the snitch?" Harry asked, amused again.

"The snitch, you idiot. We both know Bear likes me more. Don't you?" he said to the baby, joining them both on the floor and pulling one of his NEWT revision books on to his lap.

Bear gurgled happily as Draco tickled his tummy.

"I didn't know that snitches could develop attachments to people," Harry said conversationally, aware, once again, of his lack of knowledge in wizarding culture.

"I don't see why not," Draco said. "Most of the time they're only ever used once, in professional games, anyway. I had one when I was a kid that wouldn't let anyone other than me catch it. It was great, whenever I played with Blaize he would go nuts because I always won."

"I didn't know you grew up with Zabini."

"Yeah. Our mother's were good friends."

"Where do you go on Thursdays and Saturdays?" Harry asked casually.

"None of your business," Draco said lightly. He licked the pad of his thumb and turned a page.

"Seriously, Draco? You don't trust me enough to tell me?"

"It's not a matter of trust," Draco said. He hadn't yet met Harry's eyes. "It's one of privacy."

Harry huffed and hoisted Bear to his shoulder. "You disappear twice a week. I don't go anywhere."

"That's true. It's not fair at all. You tell me the two afternoons a week you want for yourself and I'll make sure I can take him."

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"No, no, Harry, you're completely right. I get time out of the house so you should get the same."

"Draco," Harry said warningly. "Don't mess with me on this."

Draco rolled his eyes, marked his page in his book and set it down on the arm of the chair. "Why is it such a big deal? Because I won't tell you?"

"No," Harry lied.

"Then what?"

"I don't think we should keep things from each other."

"Please, Harry. We know a lot more about each other than we ever have before, but that's not to say you know all of my dark and dirty secrets."

"You have dark and dirty secrets?"

Draco laughed and threw his hands up in exasperation. "You're incorrigible."

"Fine. Sundays and Friday nights."

"Ooh. Cheeky."

"You didn't specify which days I could choose," Harry said, sensing a small victory and grabbing it.

"Fine. I don't do anything anyway."

"Nothing apart from Thursdays and Saturdays."

"Exactly. Bear's asleep."

Harry looked down and, true enough, Bear was breathing deeply and slowly turning his hair pale pink.

"His mum always used to wear her hair pink." He gently smoothed the fine, soft hair back from Bear's forehead, wishing that Tonks was still there to see how wonderful her son was.

"Yeah. Andromeda told me."

"We should really go and see her, you know," Harry said. He should also really go and put Bear in his crib, but the weight of the sleeping child on his chest was reassuring, comforting. He stood and sat up on the sofa to stop his legs from going numb from being folded underneath his crossed legs. Draco hoisted himself up and sat next to Harry.

"I spoke to one of the Healers at St Mungo's yesterday."

"Nice of you to share," Harry said sarcastically.

"Sorry, I forgot to tell you," Draco said sounding entirely unconcerned. "There's not been any change in her condition. They're keeping her stable, but whatever the curse was is preventing them from bringing her back to consciousness again."

"It sounds nasty," Harry said, now rubbing slow, comforting circles on Bear's back.

"Yeah."

"Do they have any idea on who might have targeted her?"

Draco sighed. "No. I wish the Aurors would talk to me, but no one at the Ministry trusts me."

"That's ridiculous."

"Really?"

"Yeah, of course." Harry frowned. "I mean, for all they know you might be able to help."

Draco sat back and brought his feet up to rest on the edge of the cushion he was sat on, wrapping his arms around his knees. "Do you think? I mean, I could know something that I don't even know is helpful until they ask."

"Exactly. I'll talk to Ron. He might be able to talk to his boss and figure something out."

Draco nodded but looked unconvinced.

"Do you have... anyone? To talk to, I mean?"

"Fuck off, Potter."

Harry scowled. "You fuck off. I'm trying to help you, you insensitive prick."

"I don't need your help. Or your friendship. We're in this because both of us are too stubborn to back down."

"No, we got into this because we're both too stubborn to back down. I think we're both still in this for another reason."

"What reason would that be then?" Draco asked sarcastically.

"Where are all of your friends, Draco?"

"Where are all of your friends, Harry?" Draco mimicked in a baby voice.

"At school. Working." He paused. "Dead. Some of them are dead."

Draco let out a ragged breath. "Some of my friends are at school. Some of them are working. Some of them are dead."

"See. We have more in common than you think."

"Prison."

"None of my friends are in prison," Harry acquiesced.

"Goyle?"

"Yeah. Greg's in Azkaban. With my parents."

"What about Blaize? And Pansy?"

"Pansy's knocked up, you know that. Blaize is hiding out somewhere, one of his parent's estates in Ireland. He's probably playing the stock market and adding to their millions." Draco tipped his head to one side. "Vince is dead. Theo went back to school."

It was the cool 'Vince is dead' that got to Harry. He could barely talk about Fred, or Remus or Tonks or Sirius or even Snape, the miserable old bastard, without feeling choked up. Draco didn't seem to care. Or, if he did, he was very good at hiding it.

"How can you not care?" Harry asked.

"Who says I don't care?"

Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes. "You don't sound like you fucking care. You don't look like you fucking care."

Draco stood, walked the length of the room, then returned to his seat. "I changed so much over the past few years I barely know what normal is any more. Not one of my so called friends trusted me, and why should they? Being close to me was dangerous. I was dangerous. Now, what do they have to gain by being friends with me? I'm fucked up, Harry, you know that. I'm an ex- Death Eater who never wanted to do the things he did, who was forced and tortured into hurting other people and now I'm left with a nephew and an estranged, cursed aunt in a coma while every fucking other person I've ever known tries to pretend I don't exist.

"So you wonder why I stopped caring? Because it's too fucking painful to care, Potter. It's too fucking painful to care."

Draco stood and Apparated away.

xXx

It was a Friday night, so The Crup and Duck was pretty packed. Ron had found a table in an out of the way corner, partially obscured by a large, very unhealthy looking pot plant.

"Cheers," Harry said, sinking down in the seat opposite his best friend and clinking one bottle of Butterbeer against another. "How's it going?"

"Good," Ron said with an easy smile. "We only got in late last night. But it went well."

"Have you spoken to Hermione yet?" Harry asked, absorbing the amber liquid with great enthusiasm. It was great to be out of the house and away from all of the responsibilities his life had taken on recently.

"Fire called her this morning," Ron said. "Going up to see her tomorrow."

"I should call her," he said with a sigh.

"She's busy," Ron said. "About to get busier." He winked.

"Seriously, Ron? Didn't need to know that."

Ron laughed easily. "Come on. It's been years. We're allowed to be stupidly in love with each other."

"I never thought I'd live to hear you say that." Harry took another long pull from his bottle.

"You kill Malfoy yet?"

"No. I don't think I want to any more, either."

Ron surveyed him, frowning, as he drank. "Really?"

"Yeah. The guy is as messed up as the rest of us. But the rest of us have each other, and his friends are either dead or in Azkaban or not talking to him any more."

"You sound worried about him."

Harry thought it was a testament to how far Ron had come that he wasn't mocking Draco for his problems. Maybe it was Hermione's positive influence, or working with the Auror office and trying to do some good in the world, but he really did seem to have let old grievances go.

"I am," Harry admitted. "I mean, not when it comes to Bear, he's fine about that..."

"About who?" Ron said, snorting with laughter.

Harry blushed. "It's, ah, a nickname. Bear. You know. Like Teddy Bear."

"You fucking sap."

"Yeah. Anyway. He disappears on Thursdays and Saturday afternoons and he won't tell me where he goes."

Ron kicked one ankle over his knee as he sat back, thinking. "Probation meetings?"

"Every week?"

"Hmm. Maybe. It depends how closely they're watching him."

"I thought Hermione said the Auror office is tracking where he goes and who he sees."

"Yeah. They are." Ron emptied his bottle of Butterbeer. "Another?"

"Something stronger?" Harry said wryly.

Ron nodded and Harry passed money across for the next round, Ron silently took the Galleon, understanding that Harry didn't want the fuss that would invariably come if he went to the bar himself.

"Are you coming to lunch on Sunday?" Ron asked when he returned with two pints of something. "Mum told me to tell you. Neville's coming, and Hermione. She's got permission to leave school at the weekends if she wants to."

"Just Hermione?" Harry asked. Ron seemed to get the unspoken question and nodded.

"Yeah. Head Girl privileges."

"Yeah, I'll be there," Harry agreed. "I've negotiated with Malfoy. He's gonna babysit on Sundays for me anyway."

"Okay, advance warning, mate, if you don't bring that baby the girls will go mental at you. I'd say he's the only reason you've got an invite, but I think Mum wants to fuss over you just as much as him."

Harry chuckled and sipped at the pint. Decided he wasn't going to ask, and just drink it.

"Okay. That's fine. Draco's doing his NEWT anyway, I guess he'll be alright with being on his own for a couple of hours."

"He's doing a NEWT? In what?"

"Guess," Harry said dryly.

"Potions?"

"Of course. He's turned my basement into a Potions lab."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "You don't have a basement."

"Thank you!" Harry exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. "I knew it! But Draco found it and turned it into a lab. I don't really care, because I wasn't using it anyway, but it just pissed me off because I didn't even know it was there."

"Do you reckon he's visiting his parents?" Harry's head reeled for a moment at the sudden change in the conversation. It might have has something to do with the alcohol, too. He didn't drink much. Except when he was in Ron's presence. The Weasley boys certainly knew how to drink.

"In Azkaban?" Harry clarified.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Yeah. That's where they are, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Last time I checked."

"Would make sense," Ron shrugged.

"Maybe," Harry said slowly. "Maybe."

It was still nagging him the next day when he packed up Bear for his trip to The Burrow. Draco had practically ignored him when Harry had tried to explain the change in plan over breakfast, and had disappeared back down to his basement as soon as the dishes were put away.

Harry had wanted to know how Bear had behaved the night before while he was out, if Draco coped okay when only short weeks before he had insisted he wasn't left alone with a child he didn't know how to care for. But Draco was unforthcoming, to say the least, and Harry decided to drop it for the sake of his own sanity.

Apparating with a baby was easier than Flooing, even if the former did tend to upset Bear slightly. Harry arrived in the garden of The Burrow with Bear strapped to his front and a backpack full of baby things on his back, looking forward to catching up with his friends again.

The back door was flung open and Molly was soon framed in it, calling to him and gesturing for him to come in. Harry broke out in a smile and took long strides to her, catching her up in his arm in a hug and a kiss on her head.

"It's good to see you, Molly," he said.

"Let me look at you," she demanded, pulling back and grabbing his upper arms. "You're not sleeping properly."

"Of course I'm not," he laughed. "This little monster doesn't sleep through yet."

"Oh, the twins didn't sleep through 'til they were nearly a year old," Molly said, ushering him in. "I was sure they woke up just to wind me up."

Ron and Hermione were sat at the kitchen table with mugs of tea; George looked up from the sink where he was peeling vegetables.

"Alright, Harry?" he called.

Nimble, female hands worked the straps of the harness off and pulled Bear from Harry's chest and he realised that Ron was absolutely right. He probably wouldn't see Bear again until it was time to leave.

Hermione hoisted Bear up on to her shoulder and left to walk him around the garden; Harry sank gratefully down into one of the mismatched chairs around the dining table and accepted a mug of tea.

"She'll be wanting one of her own, soon," George told Ron, teasing him.

"No she bloody well won't," Ron retorted.

"Language," Molly reprimanded lightly.

"Where's Neville?" Harry asked.

"On his way," Ron said.

It was an odd sort of Sunday dinner, devoid of certain characters Harry was used to seeing with the addition of a few others. A debate raged on where George was going to live now he'd decided to move back to London; Hermione was insisting he move into Ostrich Court with her and Ron, which he wasn't keen on. Molly was desperately trying to get him to stay at home, and Neville, who had moved into the flat over Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, was offering to move back out again.

It was, in short, a mess.

"I've got space," Harry said around a mouthful of green beans, "If you want to move in with me and Bear and Malfoy."

"Oh for god's sake," Ron groaned, banging his head against the table.

"Thanks for the offer mate, but no thanks," George said with a smile. "I'll leave you and old ferret breath to it."

"To what?" Neville asked.

"To whatever it is that you're doing," George said lasciviously.

"George," Molly said and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Seriously?" Harry said. "It's Malfoy, George. Remember him? Miserable git who made our lives hell at school?"

"I reckon he fancies you," George opined.

"George!" Molly exclaimed, again.

The knowledge of Draco's dark secret, his 'I'm gay, Potter' and the implications of that confession that Harry had never really considered all combined made Harry choke.

"Here," Hermione said, passing a jug of water. "That wasn't very nice, George."

Ron snickered into his potatoes.

"You're all a bunch of perverts," Harry said, earning him his own glare from Molly. It was worth it.

xXx

The house was silent when Harry returned, packed up with enough leftovers to make at least one more meal for he and Draco to share. It shouldn't have surprised him any more, Draco's ability to creep around the house without being heard, but the silence was always a little unnerving.

Rather than trying to track down his housemate, who was almost certainly in a bad mood, Harry took Bear upstairs and bathed and changed him, putting him down to sleep before heading down to the kitchen.

Draco was sat on one of the counters, nibbling on a cracker and sipping black coffee.

"Hi," Harry said with a small smile as he unpacked the leftovers to put them in the fridge.

"Hi," Draco responded.

"What did you get up to today?"

Draco shrugged. "Worked for a while. Read some."

"Did you eat yet? There's plenty here if you want a meal."

"No thanks."

"No you haven't eaten, or no you don't want anything?" Harry pressed.

Draco sighed heavily and stretched his arms over his head. "No, I haven't eaten. And no, I don't want anything."

"Draco," Harry said nervously, rocking from foot to foot and looking anywhere except at the man in front of him. "Draco you're... you're really skinny."

Draco snorted in derision but Harry continued on regardless.

"You are. Please listen to me. You're not skinny in a 'I'm slim and it suits me' kind of way. You're skinny in a 'I'm really undernourished' kind of way.

"No wait, listen to me," he said desperately, flinging an arm out to stop Draco's escape as he hopped down from the counter and tried to dodge past Harry to the door. "I know this because... because... oh fuck it. I didn't get fed properly when I was a kid. My cousin got twice as much food as me and he still stole half of mine. I know what it looks like when you're not getting enough food in your body. Six years at boarding school playing Quidditch and three square meals a day kind of countered the six weeks I spent every summer going fucking hungry, Malfoy, so please, please don't give me that look which says you don't think I know what I'm talking about."

Draco shook his head. "So I'm underweight. So what? Why is this your problem, Potter?"

"Because, you miserable motherfucker, I care about you, okay?"

"Why?" he looked more distressed at this than at any other confession or admission he'd heard so far.

"I don't know. Because you saved my life? Because someone clearly needs to look after you?"

"I can take care of myself," Draco said immediately.

"No, you can't," he said softly. "And that's okay, you know. You don't have to be Superman."

"What?"

"Never mind," Harry said. "I just mean that it's okay to need someone."

"You've got enough on your plate taking care of Bear. You don't need to stress out about me too. You're making it sound like I'm ill or something."

"When was the last time you stepped on a scale, Draco? Or looked at yourself in a mirror?" Harry demanded.

"I don't do that," Draco muttered.

"Which part?"

"Either."

Harry closed his eyes briefly then grabbed Draco's wrist, holding him firm as he marched through the house to the bathroom they shared. There was a large mirror above the sink; Harry positioned Malfoy in front of it and stood slightly behind him.

"Look," he commanded. Draco shook his head.

Harry decided that these sorts of times called for drastic measures. He took Draco's chin in his hand and wrenched it upwards.

"Look."

Draco's tongue wet his lips nervously, then his eyes flickered to his reflection. He blinked a few times. Then he sighed.

"What's the point, Harry?"

Harry knew that it was bravado talking. He left his hand on Draco's jaw for support and waited. He waited for him to see the pale, greyish skin and dark shadows under his eyes. Waited for him to see the angular collarbones and shoulders, the tendons straining in his neck. Finally, recognition dawned in those deep, slate eyes and Malfoy seemed to sag under Harry's careful hold.

Instead of leaving it there, like he thought he probably should, Harry grabbed the hem of Draco's grey shirt and yanked it upwards, over his head. The map of scars, both old and new that covered Draco's pale skin shocked him, and it must have shown on his face because Malfoy shot him a look of pure loathing as the damage was revealed.

"There was no need for that," he muttered darkly.

"What did they do to you?" Harry asked. Draco just shook his head. Snatched the shirt from Harry's hand and ineffectually held it against his chest, trying to shield the damaged skin from Harry's eyes.

"I would like to be left alone now," he said in a hoarse, defeated voice. Harry was stuck to the floor in shock. "Leave before I fucking hex you out."

Harry nodded and carefully shut the bathroom door with a click.

Bear was sleeping. With a lack of anything else to do, Harry collected up his dirty clothes and put them on to wash, then absent mindedly went about tidying up his room. Then read for a while. Or, tried to read. The house was eerily silent. He couldn't sleep.

Eventually, right on cue, Bear woke up for his middle of the night feed. Harry scrambled out of bed and to the nursery, wanting to be the one to comfort the child this time. He recognised his own need to do something positive, to help one member of the household when he'd failed so miserably trying to help the other.

He rocked Bear back to sleep, or almost to sleep, in the rocking chair, then stood and started to pace, bouncing the baby gently on his shoulder. For someone with absolutely no experience with children, and no paternal instincts whatsoever, the speed in which he'd fallen completely, head over heels for this child was staggering.

"Can I take him?" Draco's voice came from behind him.

Harry jumped but was unsurprised to see Draco leaning on the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest. Once again, he was wearing a long sleeved t- shirt. Harry passed the sleepy Bear over, carefully, so as not to wake him.

The two men leaned in at the same time, each brushing a kiss over one side of Bear's head. The move brought them into dangerous proximity; Harry's forehead only just avoiding bumping against Draco's, close enough to smell the clean, soft smell from the baby and the mint and clove combination that was all grown man and Draco.

Harry's eyes flew open in shock and met slate grey eyes, something unreadable in that dark expression.

Too close, his subconscious whispered. Too close.

But Harry had learned, years ago, to not listen to the voices in his head. He kissed Bear again, rubbed the little boy's back, and ignored Draco's surprised intake of breath and long exhale as he left the room.