The first stop on the Ministry Tour is Dungarvin. Harry has opted to ride the train instead of apperating. It gives him time to acclimate to the mindset of meeting new people. It gives him time to think about Draco's last minute kiss. The whole morning had been calm, with Iece eating her oatmeal and laughing at the muggle images of fairies on a cartoon channel. She sat at the table between them. When it was time to say good-bye, Harry handed her to Draco, who promptly took her to the playpen in her nursery and closed the door on her. He slumped against it, like he'd been waiting to do that all morning.
He looked at Harry. "When you come back, we'll have a house elf of our own. You'll have to trust me."
"I told you, I have to be present for something like that."
"And I'm telling you, I'm exhausted."
The way Draco held the doorknob, his slender shoulders squared in regard to this admission. The way his chest heaved quietly, and his complexion went splotchy, Harry could see that it was an admission of defeat. He'd been holding it in for a long time and he was pretty pissed at Harry for making him say it.
"Legally, I'm Head of my Household. If I want one, I can get one. I'll make sure you're in the contract."
In nearly two years since school, Harry had gained ten pounds and Draco had lost exactly that much. The designer robes he wore at the Ministry, with precision cuts and fabrics that flattered him, hid the evidence of his stress. He hid what it took for him to manage the lives of three people, look out for his mother, maintain his family's finances, and make them all think that it came naturally to him. After work and a hot shower, in a T-shirt and jeans just expensive enough to shape his lean thighs, he counted on Harry not to comment on his physique. Just like he didn't complain about taking care of his sister. Don't throw my shit in my face, and I won't throw yours in yours. That was the unspoken deal.
As long as Harry saw Draco eat, he made it a point to keep his mouth shut. Harry was the one who had to maintain his body. He built muscle during his time as a celebrity quidditch player. At first he did it for charities. He raised money to supply the demand for housing and medical magic for war victims. But the money thrown at his presence proved too substantial to dismiss, and the Ministry hid behind Non-profit organizations, to get him to appear at its functions.
Unlike Draco, Harry played Charity Quidditch for the International Magical Relations Embassy. The organization was erected after the war to foster international camaraderie and to heal the rift of distrust that Voldemort's crimes had inspired between Wizarding nations. Together with the Ministry, and an umbrella of organizations, including a little known American branch, they sponsored the campaign currently touring Continental Europe. Harry's British-American team, the Skyrazors, were scheduled for a twelve-game tournament over the summer, and he had to stay in shape.
Draco, however, had no delusions about ever forcing himself to work that hard to impress or to keep up. In some circles, his genetics could open doors that Harry's compact six-pack never could. His looks were a Malfoy stamp, and it came without hard work and effort. He would not be made to feel guilty for that. Nor would he do push-ups. Mankind invented hard work. There was no such edict in the fucking Universe. And if Harry had a problem with his body, then Harry needed to stay the fuck off of him and find someone else to put up with the midnight mauling that sometimes came out of nowhere.
Not that either of them wanted that. While sex could be unpredictable between them, it was still a background factor. It had becomes such an unapproachable subject that both of them refused to look at it until it had them tearing at each other's pants just to get it over with, so that they could get back to ignoring it as soon as possible. Both of them could go for months pretending their urges didn't exist just because they were now parents. That is, until Harry's broken knuckles left him so bad off, he couldn't pick the baby up, and couldn't heal them before alarming Draco of the need to come home. When he thought Iece was wedged securely between pillows, she'd actually fallen off the couch, while Harry was using the closet to do things he could not do to Draco. That was a bad day.
Sexual abandon between them dried up after Lucius' attack. That part of their relationship was over before it started. They couldn't look at each other the same after that, and the baby required all of Draco's attention just to survive. They constantly moved from apartment to apartment, running from the public, running from Lucius. Harry had to keep up appearances to avoid prosecution in the on-going trials. Both of them were constantly forced to testify and to brave the angry mobs before their names were cleared. Draco watched his father go to Azkaban, and Harry attended seventy-two funerals before he refused to attend anymore. Nobody was feeling sexy after that.
When they absolutely had to leave the baby in someone else's care, it was Harry who'd approached Hermione Grainger for the first time after months. Draco wanted to kill him.
"You what?"
"It's just for a few hours."
"I know you didn't just say, 'Hermione'."
"We need help."
"She won't even look you in the eye. You left my sister with her?"
"It's fine. You may not trust her, but I trust her with my life. She's just as scarred as we are. This will give her time to see that Iece is just like any other baby, regardless of circumstances. We'll finally have a babysitter."
"Are you mad? Iece isn't like other babies!"
"Sshhhhhh…. That's enough! Hermione's got her for the next three hours. Deal with it."
Harry survived Draco's glare for that long. When the three hours were up and Hermione had not met them back at the floo, at Grimmauld Place, Draco cursed her name and went after the trace he'd placed on Iece's diapers. He came through at Ron and Hermione's place just as she was making Iece's little hand wave good-bye to Ron and his family. Draco's appearance knocked her right out of the pit, breaking the protection bubble she was using to keep floo soot off the baby.
"Draco?" She, and the entire Weasley family gaped at him. "I was just about to get her back to Harry."
Draco couldn't take the child fast enough.
Ron stood with his parents on the other side of the sofa. At least three red-headed brothers Draco was less acquainted with, a woman he'd never seen before, and that thing they called Ginny, all looked appalled at his intrusion. But the mention of his name had them biting their tongue and hoping for an introduction.
Draco was smart enough to wait until Iece was secure in his arms before blurting, "You've had her long enough. Harry said that he was leaving her with you and you alone."
Hermione blushed, turning to Ron's family. "Sorry everyone, I think we mentioned that Draco is very protective."
"That's bloody, rude." Ron called him out.
Before Draco could show him what rude was, Molly Weasley left the enclosure of her husband's arms to clamor over to the fireplace. Shawl dripping, she spread her short arms and pulled Draco and the baby into their flabby embrace. "You two dears!" she exclaimed. "I'm so proud of you. This is just like a family, starting out in such difficult times. We've wanted to see the baby since Ron told us. We wanted to reach out to you boys and show you that you have people willing to help. You're not alone. Harry is family, and his family is ours as well. Dear, don't you ever be shy about bringing that youngun around. None of us chose our circumstances. Our home is always open to Harry's family."
Arthur Weasley's plump grin echoed his wife's sentiment, and Draco stood facing a battery of emotional blinking and random sniffs. In the confusion of not knowing whose ass needed kicking, he endured the woman's wooly curls and the scent of her perfumed ointment. She squeezed him until his lack of movement made it utterly clear that he was not going to squeeze back.
When he could breathe again, Hermione explained, "Well, she's just so sweet. I can't believe how much she looks like Harry with blonde hair. That's crazy-wonderful! Ron and I decided to make a thing of it, and invited his family over. We know that Harry doesn't want everyone knowing, but we're like family and we can keep his secret, until he feels comfortable with it being public. And I was nervous, and who knows better about taking care of babies, than Mrs. Weasley? Draco, don't be angry with us. We miss Harry. While we can't erase what happened, we can show him that we love this little one and we're so happy that you two are making it work."
She was speaking double-tongue. He understood it. Months ago, before parting ways, Draco made her and Ron swear that he was the child's birth-father. "It's all going to come out in the trial. Everyone will know that Voldemort cursed me with the Unbearable. I'm the one who got pregnant, not Harry. She's my kid, and don't tell anyone else otherwise. She'll be in even more danger if people know Harry's the birth-father. Let them think he's helping me with my kid."
"But won't they ask about the part your father played? Won't they look at Harry's memories? And the memories of others who were there that night?"
"They'll look, but they won't find those memories. Snape took them. He obliviated Harry right there on the table that night. He said it was the only way to save Harry's sanity. It took a good chunk of Harry's magic with it. Snape performed surgery that night. I saw him lure those black strings from Harry's head into a bottle and sealed it with a spell. He took it with him. And no Death Eater facing trial, is going to admit to watching my father do that, and doing nothing to prevent it. There's nothing to be gained from it but a trip to the lowest, darkest part of Askaban to await a cold kiss."
"But Harry Remembers…" Ron started.
"And his magic seems to have gotten stronger, not weaker. I saw him turn his patronis into a moving, three-dimensional movie from his memories. He didn't even need a pensieve."
Draco corrected them. "Harry's magic is recovering. Snape said it's learning around the injury. Harry remembers only what Snape left him. He knows how it happened, he just doesn't have to keep having nightmares about it. The worst of it was removed."
Hermione was undaunted. "If they make you testify, then they'll force you to say who the father is. What will you tell them?"
"Not a damn thing."
"They'll force you."
Draco shook his head. "They can rip information from my mind, but I can pollute it. I can show them things that make them assume, without ever saying it."
Hermione really was sharp. "You're going to show them who her father is, without lying about it. You're going to make them think that Lucius attacked his own son, without ever speaking the words."
"They'll think I'm so fucking traumatized, they'll remove me and my testimony. It's the worst fall from grace possible. They'll be humiliated for me and tell me I've suffered enough. It'll stop them wondering where we got the baby from, and why she looks so much like me. Harry goes free without anyone knowing."
"But she looks like Harry. She absolutely looks like Harry. They'll do blood tests as well as inheritance tests."
"All that's going to show, is that Harry and I share some ancestry. It's not definitive. And nobody has any reason to suppose that Harry has anything to do with her. You're the only one who sees the resemblance. All anyone else ever sees, is her hair anyway, and then they shake their heads at me."
Draco's certainty had left them unable to argue further.
In short, Mrs. Weasley thought she knew what she was talking about. They all thought they knew the big secret, that Harry was the real father of Draco's baby, under the Death Eater curse, the Unbearable. The inbred, incest tragedy miring Draco's reputation, was just one of the many rumors manufactured from a trial filled with nasty revelations. They still didn't know that Harry had suffered the same curse and had been unlucky enough to conceive. The conclusion that Harry was biologically related to Iece in any way, went unverified and unconfirmed.
Draco glared his intention into Hermione to keep it that way. Hermione was a wildcard of emotion one minute, and shrewd methodology the next. She couldn't be trusted to keep cool about it. Already, she was wiping tears and speaking as if she'd been holding them in for quite some time. How long would it take before she blurted the truth? A lot of people lied about what happened to Harry that night, including Ron and Hermione. If all that had to be drug out into the open, testimonies would crumble. Criminals would walk free, and trials would have to resume.
Draco strained his glare to make her hear him. Stop talking.
"Ronald and I have wanted you both in our home, with the baby, forever it seems. We just didn't know how to reach out to you. You avoided us during the trials, understandably."
So much unconditional love filled the room, Draco thought he saw the movements of deceased Weasley relatives crowding into Hermione's tiny living room. Weasley's were so freaking weird, professing love and oozing sentimentality at the drop of a hat. Well he and Harry didn't need their pity. Before he could tell them so, his throat closed and he barely had enough voice to tell them he needed to get Iece home for her nap. "She's not used to people. I, I have to get her back."
Arthur nodded knowingly and winked at Draco. "I daresay, her fathers aren't accustomed to being without her."
Draco nodded absently and mumbled "Sorry," before pulling his cloak around Iece and flooing back to Harry. By then, they'd learned the protection spells that shielded the baby between locations.
Since that day, he'd only given into Harry's plea to let Mrs. Weasley babysit twice. Between her and Hermione, the older woman did have valuable experience that Hermione lacked. But that didn't make it okay. Draco wanted to be all that his sister needed to stay safe and happy. He owed her that. He owed Harry that. Harry wasn't supposed to worry about who was looking after her. That was Draco's job. After two years, when he couldn't pretend to be some mythical superhero of a brother, or father, he'd made up his mind to have the balls to do what Harry could not. To say the words, "I can't do this anymore. I'm tired. I need help."
That morning, after announcing that he was going to get a house elf no matter what Harry thought, Draco waited for the response that would end one era of his life, and start another one. Nobody wanted a custody battle. Nobody wanted this public. He didn't want to risk prison for having let everyone think he'd given birth instead of Harry. But he couldn't keep up the routine and pace that all of their needs required. Someone had to go, and it wasn't going to be his little Nicee.
He leaned against the door and waited for Harry to give him another reason why they couldn't have an elf. His bags were already packed, and so were Iece's. If Harry said no this time, he'd return to an empty condo.
Draco heard all of Harry's excuses pour out in the weight of his sigh. Harry dumped them, without giving voice to one. When his shoulders slumped, the only thing Harry said was, "You win. Hire whatever help you need. I trust you. Just don't leave. Not yet. Will you promise to be here when I get back?"
Draco couldn't think of an awful enough name to call him for being so dead-on. He pushed from the door and threw his weight into Harry, causing them both to stumble to the nearest support. Wall sex was still their favorite, but it was rare and there was no time for it. Harry had to apparate to the train platform in five minutes or risk a later boarding. He'd already delayed saying good-bye to them for as long as he could.
"Don't make me come looking for you," Harry whispered between kisses.
Draco's pull at his clothes and lips smeared all clarity into a seamless need for contact. Cracked lips roughed Harry into opening his mouth and abandoning himself to whatever Draco's hands wanted. There was nothing gentle about it, and Draco stretched himself as far as he could go into Harry's space without injuring both of them. When it was over, and Draco offered no explanation for why he left Harry's lips scratched and burning, as well as other things, Harry knew that it was Draco's way of demonstrating that he was going to be right here when Harry got back.
That frustrating kiss gave Harry something to think about returning to. Their sex life had never recovered from that night. But things happened. Uncontrollable things that broke out of them on the rare occasions they put Iece to sleep in her own bed. Harry could not be persuaded to so much as kiss Draco with her in the room. But on those rare occasions, he and Draco locked in a tournament of strength, each needing to prove they were solid men and nothing less, in the wake of their affronted masculinity. It was a privilege to be on top and Harry had won it as many times as they dared to play that dangerous game. He could count the times on his hand.
What happened between them was too angry to be called making love. The desire was there, but something always came between them. Something competitive and begrudging. Harry considered himself to be a nice person, but when Draco had him growling with need, the last thing he wanted to be, was nice. And Draco was good at playing the part that made Harry want to give him more than he could handle.
It was just a game and they both knew what they were doing. If things got out of hand, if Draco let Harry take some sort of revenge, then it was their private arena and they never had to admit what was really going on. When they held off long enough, their bodies came together so hard, they didn't see the bruises or notice broken bones until the sated effects wore off. Harry was not into violence. Draco was just the closest thing to emasculating Lucius Malfoy as Harry would ever come. It was just a game. It was Draco's gift to him.
A/N: Please review! :-)
