FIC: Happy Christmas, Draco [Harry/Draco]
Dec. 10th, 2012 09:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mini_fest_mod posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
mini_festTitle: Happy Christmas, Draco
Author/Artist:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ashindk
Pairing(s): Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Prompt: 58, 2012 Draco and little Scorpius find themselves homeless on Christmas. Harry takes them in.
Word Count/Art Medium: 6153
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Many thanks to my betasusannah_wilde Any remaining mistakes are my own.
Summary: When the Manor is attacked on Christmas eve, Harry is the auror who responds to the emergency call.
Harry sighed and leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head, trying to work some of the tension from his back and shoulders. The late shift on Christmas Eve consisted mostly of catching up on paperwork; even criminals had better things to do than break the law on an evening like this. He glanced out the charmed window and saw that the sleet that had started falling earlier in the afternoon had turned to proper snow at last. It was starting to pile up and cover the street outside the DMLE in a soft blanket, evening out the sharp shapes of the phone booth across the street, and illuminating the usually dreary view. Maybe he should take a walk around the department and wish his colleagues a happy Christmas. He also needed to get another cup of tea to keep him awake for the next two hours until his shift ended at midnight. If things seemed quiet in the incoming alarm section, maybe he could floo Robards and try to persuade him to send some of the staff home to their families early.
He opened the door to the front office and crossed the room to the alarm section, which was a soundproof area with three chimneys to take floo calls. He glanced at the wall over at the floo points and was happy to notice that all the protected locations on the map glowed green. It seemed that not even vengeful Death Eaters or their sympathisers were out and about tonight.
His gaze lingered on the green glow above the small sketch of The Burrow and for a minute he closed his eyes and let himself wish that he was there. Molly would have brought out the mulled wine by now. He could just imagine Bill, Fleur, Percy, Charlie, Ron and Hermione talking quietly at the table, and Baby Rose asleep on her father's lap. He pictured Arthur faffing about with some muggle contraption, while Ginny and Dean were curled up together on the sofa next to the fire while George chased little Victoire.
Harry was stirred from his daydream by the shrieking sound of an alarm, indicating that someone had cast a Mors Mordre. He opened his eyes and found The Burrow still illuminated by a green glow. He started scanning the map and allowed himself a brief moment of relief at the sight of Grimmauld Place glowing green, but then one of the floo connections roared to life. Harry heard the panicked voice of a small child screaming at the same time as he spotted the flashing red light on the map somewhere in Wiltshire.
When Harry apparated onto the lawn in front of Malfoy Manor with his team of aurors, he was met with a sight he had hoped never to see again. The Manor was being consumed by Fiendfyre, the fiery chimeras and dragons leaping high into the sky and illuminating the looming shape of a Dark Mark. He heard shouting to his left and started running towards the sound, as fast as the snow that reached above his ankles, would allow. He crouched down behind a holly bush, sheared into the shape of a leaping unicorn, and spotted the source of the noise. In an alcove between the main part of the Manor and one of the wings, he could see the silhouette of a man flattening himself against the wall with his wand held high. It looked as if he was wearing a large, bulky knapsack under his hooded cloak. Two other men, wearing black robes, were swearing and shouting threats, but it seemed that they were unable to see their opponent from where they were standing. Harry glanced back at the flaming building. It was only a matter of minutes before the heat from the Fiendfyre would force the hooded man to reveal himself.
Harry crawled closer, trying not to make any noise that would attract attention, while keeping his eyes on the shouting men. He risked a glance at the hiding man and saw that his cloak and hood had slipped back, revealing Draco Malfoy's tell-tale silver blond hair, and a little boy, clinging to his body with all the strength of his skinny arms and legs. Before Harry knew what he was doing, he had cast a series of spells in quick succession, stunning one man and disarming the other. At the same time, Malfoy took a few staggering steps away from the scorching heat and then collapsed, face first, into the snow.
He could hear his team behind him and knew that they would take care of the two Death Eaters, so he continued running until he reached Malfoy's fallen form. As he got closer he could see that Malfoy was conscious, but breathing in the cold air in shallow gasps, his body barely stirring. The child, a little boy, was curled up beside him, crying without making a sound. He looked up at Harry with frightened, but defiant, grey eyes. In one small hand he held a wand.
“Don't come any closer!” the little boy said. “I know a lot of hexes!”
“Okay, okay! I'll just stay here then.” Harry held up his hands and tried to make his voice soothing and calm, despite his panic. “I'm Harry. What's your name?”
“I'm Scorpius. Scorpius Malfoy. I'm not going to let you hurt my father! I'll hex you, if you try!”
“I'm not going to hurt him, Scorpius. And I think you're very brave for protecting him. But I was hoping that you would let me have a look at him, to see if something else has hurt him? The fire, maybe? Or those men over there?”
Malfoy groaned and put a hand on his son's arm. “It's okay, Scorpius. Potter isn't going to hurt us so please let me have my wand back.” Malfoy’s voice was just a whisper that ended in a coughing fit, but Scorpius handed him his wand, even though he kept his eyes trained on Harry, obviously not trusting him.
Harry crept closer, until he was crouching beside Malfoy.
“Are you all right, Malfoy? Both of you? Apart from the smoke, I mean. Did they hit you with anything?”
Shit! This was just like 8th year, when he couldn't stop babbling every time Malfoy was near. Malfoy must have considered him a total idiot by the time they left school. Maybe even more of an idiot, than before the war. Of course the man wasn't all right! His ancestral home was burning to the ground behind them and he had just escaped with his young son. Why did he always have to sound like such an idiot around Draco Malfoy?
“Yes, I think so. Or at least we will be, once I get some fresh air. I managed to cast a bubble-head charm on Scorpius, after I firecalled for help, but I didn't have time to cast one on myself.” Malfoy's voice was still weak, but not as bad as before, and he seemed to be breathing better already.
“They were casting green curses,” Scorpius whispered. “My father says that green curses are bad magic!”
“They are. Very bad magic.” Harry stood up and held out a hand to Malfoy. “Can you stand? If it's okay with both of you,” he gave Scorpius a questioning look, and waited for the boy to nod before he continued. “I'll apparate the three of us a bit further away from the fire and get the mediwitch to look you over.”
Malfoy grabbed the outstretched hand and let Harry help him to his feet, before bending down to pick up Scorpius. Harry hesitated for a moment, then he carefully draped one arm over Scorpius' shoulders and put the other around Malfoy's waist. He pulled them both as close as he dared, before apparating.
- - -
Half an hour later, Harry entered his office and found Draco and Scorpius Malfoy seated in front of his desk, swaddled in warm blankets. Scorpius was curled up in his father’s lap, asleep. He had his hand fisted in his father’s shirt and his head rested against his chest. He looked peaceful, despite the soot and grime on his face, and the worried little frown that even sleep didn't seem to erase. Draco, on the other hand, didn't look too well. His pale and drawn face reminded Harry far too much of the desperate, frightened boy he had been almost a decade before, when he was clinging to Harry’s back as they flew out of the Room of Requirement.
“How is he?” Harry nodded at the sleeping child as he sank into his own chair.
“He's frightened and exhausted. I haven't told him much about the war. He doesn't know why someone would do this to us.” Draco's voice, quiet and soft, choked a little on the last word. He looked up at Harry with an anxious expression.
“Do you mind if I call one of my elves? Can elves even apparate in here?”
“No, I don't mind at all. Elves can apparate inside the Ministry if their masters order them to do so. But if you need anything, just tell me and I'll see if I can help.”
“No, that's okay. I just want to make sure that all of them made it out of the house. Flimby!”
For a moment nothing happened and Harry’s heart sank. Draco's forehead creased in a worried frown, but then there was a crack of apparition and a small elf, wearing a torn and singed pillowcase embroidered with the Malfoy crest, appeared in front of them.
“Oh thank Merlin! Are all of you safe, Flimby?”
“Yes, Master. We is all being at the broom shed by the quidditch pitch. It is the only place left on the grounds. We is trying hard not to be punishing ourselves for not saving the Manor, Master Draco, sir.” Flimby squeaked, wringing his hands and eyeing Harry’s desk, looking like he was struggling to resist banging his head against it.
“We knows Master Draco forbade the punishing, and we will obey. But it is being a shame on elfish honour to fail to protect our master and his home!” The little elf took a deep breath, straightened up, and looked Draco in the eye with a solemn expression. “We is being sorry, Master Draco. All of us is being sorry.”
Draco disentangled one hand from the blanket and reached out to the elf. He put his hand on its bony shoulder and gave it a light squeeze.
“It will be fine, Flimby. Don't worry about that right now. Do you have everything you need? The broom shed isn't very warm.”
The elf seemed to relax a bit and his ears quivered. “Master is being so kind. We is casting warming charms and we is making a nest in one of the broom cupboards.”
“Good. Go back to the others, then. I'll call for you tomorrow, and we'll make some long-term
plans.”
“Yes, Master Draco. Happy Christmas, Master Draco.”
With a crack the elf was gone and Draco sagged back into the chair. It seemed as if he had forgotten that Harry was even in the room. “Happy Christmas!” He muttered to himself, shaking his head. “Not much chance of that, Flimby. But thank you, anyway.”
Harry's heart surged with sympathy. Draco Malfoy was as good as homeless, with the responsibility of caring for a small child. He had to remind himself to be a professional. No matter how much he empathised, he still had work to do! He cleared his throat.
“Malfoy, I have to ask a few questions...” He started, but was interrupted by Draco's weary voice.
“Yes, of course. But could you call me Draco, please? I don't like to be reminded of...” he trailed off, with a vague hand gesture, that was meant to encompass the entirety of their past acquaintance.
“Oh, sorry! Of course! You should call me Harry, then. I just have to ask you... But I suppose it won't take long. We already caught the perpetrators, after all.” Harry stammered, and earned a tired little smirk and a lifted eyebrow from Draco. He took a deep breath and continued.
“Did you see anyone, except the two men we caught at the scene?” He mentally congratulated himself on getting a whole sentence together.
“No. I didn't see anything at all. And there was no warning. They must have known how to dismantle the wards from when... From before,” Draco said.
“Flimby just apparated in front of me, while I was putting Scorpius to bed, and screamed about fire. I picked up my son and ran to the nearest chimney. I made the firecall and then we just tried to get out of the house. When I got out, someone shot a killing curse at me, and...” he swallowed and closed his eyes for a second, before continuing. “They barely missed Scorpius. We hid in the alcove. I was so scared, I couldn't think straight. I didn't even think about apparating somewhere safe! I just froze. What kind of wizard does that?”
Harry wanted to reach out to him, to comfort him and tell him about all the times during the war and in his career as an Auror, when he had been frozen in terror, just like Draco. But he didn't know how that would be received, so instead he gave Draco a small smile and nodded in understanding.
“Okay. No other known suspects, then. And we can guess the motive...”
“Yes, of course. The Malfoys are the biggest family of blood traitors left these days.” He gave a wry smile. “The Weasleys must be envious.”
Harry couldn't help the small, startled laugh that bubbled out of him at the thought, as he returned the smile, before turning serious again.
“I suppose the rest of it can wait until after we question the suspects under Veritaserum. It could be a couple of days before we get the paperwork pushed through. Especially over the holidays.” Harry flicked his wand and the papers in front of him gathered themselves in a neat stack.
“You should head to St. Mungo's for a check-up. That cough sounded nasty! Do you have somewhere to go after that? Somewhere well warded would be best, considering...” he trailed off, not really knowing how to finish the sentence without making a total fool of himself again.
“No. I don't think St. Mungo's is a good idea. Scorpius is scared of healers. He gets ear infections and hates going in to have his ears checked. I'd rather not upset him any more tonight.” He frowned.
“I suppose my aunt Andromeda would take us in. I don't know her very well, but she and Mother got on all right for the last few years before Mother passed away...”
Harry didn't know what possessed him to make the offer. Maybe it was the reminder that Draco was as much a Black as he was a Malfoy. Or maybe it was his stupid old schoolboy infatuation. No matter what, the words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself.
“You could always come home with me, if you want. To Grimmauld Place. It's properly warded, and it's practically yours anyway, since you're a descendant of the House of Black. Kreacher would dote on you, I'm sure! I mean, I'm sure you'd rather be somewhere else, but I just thought, I'd offer...Never mind. It's a stupid idea.” He finished, words drifting off into silence.
Draco's eyebrows had inched higher and higher while Harry was busy babbling his clumsy invitation. But now a relieved smile spread across his face.
“I don't think it's stupid, P... Harry. In fact, I think it's extremely generous of you. If you really mean it, I'd very much like to accept. At least for tonight. I'd hate to wake up my long lost aunt in the middle of the night, asking her to take in a pair of strays.”
- - -
Scorpius didn't even stir when his father carried him through the floo and into the drawing room of Grimmauld Place. Draco seemed to be doing better, Harry thought, but it must be heavy, carrying a sleeping four-year-old.
“I keep a room for Teddy to use when he comes over. It's right this way.” Harry nodded towards the stairs and walked ahead of Draco, flinging the door open to the room next to his own.
The room was decorated in soft greens and blues. The wallpaper had a moving motif of Quidditch players, zooming about, throwing tiny quaffles through hoops and chasing almost invisible snitches, and the bedspread had a Pygmy Puff print. There was a shelf with both wizarding and muggle toys. A child-sized racing broom was propped against one wall.
“He's probably not old enough for most of the toys, but I hope that's okay... We'll see if we can transfigure some of Teddy's clothes for him in the morning...”
“It's more than okay, Harry. It's so much more than what he would have woken up to, had you not taken us in. He'll be so excited about all the toys when he wakes up. I think I should move the broom out of reach, though...” Draco's voice was soft as he leaned over the bed and tucked his sleeping son under the blanket.
“He was very brave tonight, defending you like that.”
“Yes, he is brave. Brave and protective. I'm certain he will be in Gryffindor. It's lucky his grandfather won't be around to witness it.” Draco smiled at the sleeping child. He looked down at the Pygmy Puff blanket. “All he wanted for Christmas was a Pygmy Puff. I was looking forward to surprising him with one tomorrow. It would have been his first pet, but the poor thing must have burned to death.”
There was a suspicious hitch in Draco's voice at the end of the sentence. Shit! Harry couldn't let Draco cry over a Pygmy Puff. He would never be forgiven for witnessing a private moment. He needed to give the man some space, to let him keep his dignity.
“As horrible as it may sound, I think it's very lucky that a Pygmy Puff was the only casualty.” Harry said, debating whether it would be okay to reach out and place a comforting hand on Draco's arm. He reached out, but changed his mind at the last second. Instead he patted his shoulder in what he hoped was a consoling manner.
“Would you like to take a shower? The bathroom is right on the other side of the hallway and through the bedroom. I'll find you some clothes and leave them on the bed, yeah?”
“Thank you. I would really like to get warm and dry.” Draco took a deep breath and looked down at his wet and sooty clothes. He wrinkled his nose. “And clean!” he added.
- - -
While Draco showered, Harry paced the floor in the drawing room, running a hand through his hair. He tried to make sense of the way the last few hours had turned everything upside down. Draco Malfoy was in his house. Draco Malfoy was in his shower. Draco Malfoy was naked, in his bedroom, getting ready to wear Harry's pyjamas. He groaned and pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes to remove the picture that was forming in his mind... Draco Malfoy was straight. He was also essentially homeless, a victim of attempted murder, and, most importantly, he had a small son, who was sleeping in the room next door. And besides all that, he must also be very, very tired.
Harry was sitting in the sofa by the fireplace with a glass of firewhiskey when Draco finished his shower and walked into the drawing room. He wore a pair of Harry's soft, green pyjama bottoms and a white T-shirt. The sight of Draco in his clothes made Harry's stomach twist in a funny way. If he was still seventeen, Harry would have said that his chest monster was purring. He scooted into a corner of the sofa and motioned for Draco to sit down at the other end.
“I hope the pyjama's okay...”
“They are. I've found that muggle clothes are very comfortable. After my mother passed away I hardly ever wear robes anymore.”
“Good. Err...that the clothes are okay, I mean. If you like, I'm sure Kreacher will be happy to clean yours. I should warn you, though, he's getting old, so sometimes the laundry's not exactly up to his previous standards. On the other hand, it wouldn't surprise me if he ruined my muggle clothes on purpose. He's always trying to turn me into a 'worthy heir to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black'.”
Harry wished, too late, that he could stop himself from babbling like an idiot. Even though Draco was smiling at him and seemed not to mind his excessive chattering. He was probably just amused by Harry’s inability to form coherent sentences. What was it about Draco that made him behave like that? He started a quiet chant in his mind: Shut up, Harry. Shut up, Harry. Shut up, Harry.
“Err... would you like a drink?” Harry gestured at his glass of firewhiskey. Apparently chanting didn't work, he thought. At least he managed to stop at one semi-coherent sentence.
Draco smiled at him again. “Yes, please. I'm dead tired, but I'm also still pumped on adrenaline. I don't think I'll be able to sleep any time soon. A drink sounds like the perfect solution.”
Harry stood up and started rummaging through the glass cabinet that had once housed the Black family's collection of dark artefacts. Now it served as a makeshift bar cabinet for his rather limited collection of alcoholic beverages.
“I have Ogden's Old, if that's okay. I have some mead as well, if you'd prefer? Or some muggle stuff. I think it's called Glenfiddich...”
“Ogden's will be fine.”
Harry conjured a few ice cubes and handed the glass to Draco, before refilling his own. They sat for a while in a comfortable bubble of silence, each processing the events of the last few hours. Harry looked up in surprise, when Draco failed to suppress a yawn.
“I should go to bed,” Draco said, and put his glass down. “I think I'm going to need my rest for tomorrow. Christmas is not the ideal day to find accommodations for myself and my child, in addition to five high strung and slightly singed house elves.”
“Oh. Yes! Sleeping is a good idea. But, Draco, you don't have to stress about finding somewhere to live. You're welcome to stay here for the rest of the holidays. Only if you want to, of course...”
“That's a very generous offer, but I wouldn't want to intrude. It's just . . . my social circle is rather small these days, and the Ministry appropriated our summer cottage and the ski lodge as war reparations . . . But I'll think of something. If nothing else, I'll be able to find a flat for us as soon as Gringotts opens again after New Year’s...”
“I know this is a very personal question, and you don't have to answer, but what about Scorpius' mum? It's not that he isn't welcome here, because he is! But maybe he'd prefer to be somewhere more familiar?”
Harry knew he could be stepping on all kinds of sore toes, by asking the question that had been rolling around in the back of his head all evening, but he couldn't keep his curiosity at bay any longer. He bit his lip and waited for Draco to lose his temper and sneer at him. To his great surprise, Draco chuckled.
“Scorpius doesn't have a mother.” He stated, matter of factly. Harry looked up, startled. “I suppose he does have a birth mother and an egg-donor, too. But he's never known either woman, and it was intended that way right from the start.” Harry's heart plummeted when he saw the old Malfoy Mask slip back into place, and Draco gave him a challenging stare. “I am not interested in women, but I always wanted children. I suppose I could have adopted a child, but it was important to my parents that I produced a Malfoy heir. I was happy to grant my mother her pure-blooded grandchild, even if it didn't matter either way to me.”
Harry could only gape at him, dumbfounded. When he realised he was gaping, he winced and closed his mouth, but the question still lingered in his mind. Draco Malfoy was gay?
Draco must have misunderstood his expression and his startled spluttering, because he stood from the sofa and walked towards the door.
“Good night, Potter and thank you for your hospitality. Scorpius and I will go to the Leaky tomorrow and get a room.”
“Wait, what? Draco! Please wait!” Harry jumped from the sofa in a panic. Draco paused at the door and turned to him with a questioning look. Harry crossed the room and put a hand on Draco's arm, willing him to understand. “I should have known better than to ask you something like that. But for Merlin's sake, call me Harry. And I already told you, you're welcome to stay, both of you!”
“Are you telling me that you're comfortable with having a queer pureblood supremacist sleeping in your house for a week?” Draco spat. The old sneer once again transformed his face, making him look like his sixteen-year-old self.
“No, I'm not!” Draco tried to jerk his arm away, but Harry tightened his grip and softened his voice as he continued “But I'm okay with having you and Scorpius here.” He felt the muscles in Draco's arm relax a fraction.
“Draco, please just sit down and listen to me for a minute...” Harry pulled gently at the arm he was still holding, and Draco gave a reluctant nod and moved to sit in one of the armchairs. Harry sat back down in the sofa and poured himself another drink, before holding out the bottle and lifting one eyebrow in a silent question. After a moment of hesitation, Draco nodded and took his glass from the table and held it out to him. Harry poured him a drink, took a deep breath, and started explaining.
“I'm sorry for asking about Scorpius' mother. I'm not very good at thinking things all the way through, but I guess I should have realised that you would have mentioned it yourself, if it was relevant.” Draco gave a stiff nod. “I don't think you're a pureblood supremacist, Draco. I'm sorry if I said or did something that made you think so. Err... I mean, today. Obviously, I did both say and do things to make you believe that in the past. But I don't think it was such an unfair judgement at the time...” He finished with an awkward smile and Draco nodded in acknowledgement.
“Let's not get into that right now. I have a feeling that's going to be a very long conversation for many reasons. I'm not very good at apologising and I'd like to be awake and sober, when I do.” Draco said with a small smirk.
Harry felt his smile getting wider at the not-quite-apology, and at the thought of Draco being willing to have that conversation with him in the future.
“Okay. We can talk about that some other time, then. I don't think that you're a supremacist for having the child you wanted while at the same time trying to make your mother happy, Draco. Compromising to make everybody happy doesn't make you a blood status -obsessed bigot. It does make you a bit of a Hufflepuff, though...” Harry trailed off with a smile and was relieved to see Draco smile back.
“A Hufflepuff! How dare you! I shall remove myself from your unworthy presence at once!” Draco answered in his most snobbish tone. But he was still smiling, and he didn't make any effort to get up from the chair. They both fell quiet again, each trying to fit these new puzzle pieces into the bigger picture.
“This is not quite what I imagined your life to be like...” Draco mused and then came to an abrupt stop, as if he hadn't meant to say anything at all. Harry inwardly cheered at the admission that Draco had been thinking about him over the last few years.
“Oh? What did you imagine, then?” Harry asked.
“I don't know... I think I just assumed that you would marry Ginevra Weasley and produce a Quidditch team of ginger offspring.” Draco shrugged.
“I suppose that's what most people thought... Myself included...”
“Well, why didn't you?” Draco looked genuinely puzzled.
“For starters, it takes two people to get married, and Ginny wasn't in on the plan. I don't blame her. She made the right choice with Dean Thomas. He's charming, good looking, and he loves Quidditch just as much as she does. He also doesn't have the complications that come with being the 'Chosen One'... Oh! Also, he's straight. I suppose that's a bonus, too, if you look at it from Ginny's perspective.”
In retrospect, it was probably a bit cruel that he'd added the last sentence while Draco was taking a sip of his drink, Harry thought. He almost couldn't hear Draco's startled splutter for the rush of his own blood in his ears. There! He'd outed himself to Draco Malfoy.
“And... you're... not?” Draco gasped the words in between coughing.
“I don't think so... I haven't really wanted to be with a girl... or woman... since Ginny. And I was only a teenager back then so it never went beyond a bit of kissing.” He shrugged and traced the rim of his glass with a fingertip. He could hear a rustling as Draco leaned forward to listen more intently than before, but he didn't really have the courage to look at him in the eyes. Instead Harry focused on his glass as he continued his narrative.
“I... After the war I didn't really have the opportunity to go back to being a normal teenager. I suppose you remember eighth year? All those girls following me around? It scared the shit out of me! I suspected that I might like boys better, anyway, but I had no idea how to approach them... him... I... Err.. ended up behaving like an idiot most of the time. I think I finally decided that it was easier just being alone...” He looked up from the glass to find Draco nodding along like he knew just what Harry was talking about. Maybe he did.
“So you've been living here alone since we left school?”
“It's not as pathetic as it sounds!” Harry's protest sounded weak, even to his own ears. “I have Teddy over most weekends, and the Weasleys are still family. Molly couldn't stop mothering me even if she wanted; it's just who she is. Ron and Hermione visit, with little Rose. And... err... and Kreacher.” He finished lamely.
“That sounds like quite a large family you have there.” Draco gave him a small, but warm smile. “I'm happy for you.”
“Thanks. Teddy and Andromeda will be over for Christmas dinner tomorrow. I hope you'll join us?”
“Yes, I think we will.” Draco smiled. “I don't know my aunt very well and I have never met my little cousin, but from what you've told me tonight, I'm quite curious.”
“I look forward to introducing you.” Harry smiled back, happy at the thought of expanding Teddy's limited family to include Draco and Scorpius.
They were both startled by the sound of the clock on the mantle striking midnight. Draco hid a yawn behind his hand.
“Would it be okay if I transfigured the armchair in Teddy's room into a bed for the night? I want to be close to Scorpius...”
Harry stood up, feeling a little unsteady.
“Of course. I was going to offer you the master bedroom, though, if you'd rather sleep in a real bed. It's right next door from Scorpius. I can stay in Sirius' old room on the third floor. But it's entirely up to you.”
“I think I'd rather be where Scorpius can see me. But thanks for the offer.” Draco got up as well, swaying a bit. He yawned again and started towards the stairs.
“No problem. Transfigured beds can be a bit lumpy.”
They both reached the door at the same time and did an awkward little dance around each other, trying to determine who would go first. In the end, Harry put his hands on Draco’s shoulders and turned him slightly sideways in order to move past him. Draco, it seemed, had other ideas. He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Harry’s lips.
At first, Harry was too startled to respond. It felt like he was being pulled in at least three different
directions. His mind was screaming at him that this was dangerous, that he could be rejected at any moment, but his cock was stirring and a hot sensation that he could only describe as need, pooled in his stomach. When Draco opened his mouth in silent invitation, Harry moaned and let his tongue slip inside, to glide alongside Draco's. His hands were fisting in Draco's thin T-shirt, feeling the sensations of firm muscle and heat under his hands. When he groaned and pressed his body flush against Draco's, he could feel the hard outline of an erection through the loose pyjama-bottoms. He greedily rocked against it and basked in the sound of Draco's quiet whimper when their hard cocks rubbed together. When their kissing made him lightheaded with lust and lack of oxygen, Harry reluctantly pulled away. He didn't go far, though, because he couldn't resist bending his head to bite and lick at Draco's neck. Meanwhile, Draco's hands were sliding down his arms, coming to rest in a light grip around his wrists. Draco moved forwards, pinning him to the wall next to the door, tight enough that he couldn't easily move much, but loose enough that he could break free if he really wanted to. When Harry relaxed into the position, Draco tightened his grip and slid a hard thigh between his legs.
“Please, Draco!” Harry didn't know exactly what he was begging for, but he knew he needed Draco to do something, to make him believe that this was real. He rocked against Draco's thigh and threw his head back as Draco started planting kisses along his jaw and neck. At first they were soft and teasing, but then Draco started using his teeth, nipping at Harry's sensitive skin, and then soothing the spots with feather light touches his tongue. His whole body shuddered in pleasure and he couldn't help the moan that escaped.
“Do you want this, Harry? Do you want me to touch you?”
Harry could only whimper and nod, but it seemed to be enough, because suddenly his arms were free and Draco's hands were fumbling with his fly. When Draco's warm hand finally encircled his cock, Harry's knees nearly buckled at the sensation. He hooked his hands in the waistband of Draco's pyjamas and pulled them down, eager to feel Draco's erection against his own. He entangled his hand with Draco's and wrapped them around both their cocks. An experimental tug made stars explode behind his eyes and almost brought him over the edge, and only his reluctance for this to be over so soon pulled him back. A few more pulls had them both panting in a sweaty, sticky mess. Harry's eyes flew open as he came, and his heart soared at the sight of Draco with his head thrown back, and his mouth slightly open, silently coming apart in front of him.
For a moment they just stood there, breathing heavily and leaning against each other. Then Draco leaned in and gave him a sweet, lingering kiss.
“Happy Christmas, Harry.” He whispered, before disappearing up the stairs, leaving a gaping Harry at the landing.
Harry slowly lifted his hand and touched his still tingling and damp lips in wonder.
“Happy Christmas, Draco.” He whispered to the empty hallway.
Author/Artist:
ashindkPairing(s): Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Prompt: 58, 2012 Draco and little Scorpius find themselves homeless on Christmas. Harry takes them in.
Word Count/Art Medium: 6153
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Many thanks to my beta
susannah_wilde Any remaining mistakes are my own. Summary: When the Manor is attacked on Christmas eve, Harry is the auror who responds to the emergency call.
Harry sighed and leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head, trying to work some of the tension from his back and shoulders. The late shift on Christmas Eve consisted mostly of catching up on paperwork; even criminals had better things to do than break the law on an evening like this. He glanced out the charmed window and saw that the sleet that had started falling earlier in the afternoon had turned to proper snow at last. It was starting to pile up and cover the street outside the DMLE in a soft blanket, evening out the sharp shapes of the phone booth across the street, and illuminating the usually dreary view. Maybe he should take a walk around the department and wish his colleagues a happy Christmas. He also needed to get another cup of tea to keep him awake for the next two hours until his shift ended at midnight. If things seemed quiet in the incoming alarm section, maybe he could floo Robards and try to persuade him to send some of the staff home to their families early.
He opened the door to the front office and crossed the room to the alarm section, which was a soundproof area with three chimneys to take floo calls. He glanced at the wall over at the floo points and was happy to notice that all the protected locations on the map glowed green. It seemed that not even vengeful Death Eaters or their sympathisers were out and about tonight.
His gaze lingered on the green glow above the small sketch of The Burrow and for a minute he closed his eyes and let himself wish that he was there. Molly would have brought out the mulled wine by now. He could just imagine Bill, Fleur, Percy, Charlie, Ron and Hermione talking quietly at the table, and Baby Rose asleep on her father's lap. He pictured Arthur faffing about with some muggle contraption, while Ginny and Dean were curled up together on the sofa next to the fire while George chased little Victoire.
Harry was stirred from his daydream by the shrieking sound of an alarm, indicating that someone had cast a Mors Mordre. He opened his eyes and found The Burrow still illuminated by a green glow. He started scanning the map and allowed himself a brief moment of relief at the sight of Grimmauld Place glowing green, but then one of the floo connections roared to life. Harry heard the panicked voice of a small child screaming at the same time as he spotted the flashing red light on the map somewhere in Wiltshire.
When Harry apparated onto the lawn in front of Malfoy Manor with his team of aurors, he was met with a sight he had hoped never to see again. The Manor was being consumed by Fiendfyre, the fiery chimeras and dragons leaping high into the sky and illuminating the looming shape of a Dark Mark. He heard shouting to his left and started running towards the sound, as fast as the snow that reached above his ankles, would allow. He crouched down behind a holly bush, sheared into the shape of a leaping unicorn, and spotted the source of the noise. In an alcove between the main part of the Manor and one of the wings, he could see the silhouette of a man flattening himself against the wall with his wand held high. It looked as if he was wearing a large, bulky knapsack under his hooded cloak. Two other men, wearing black robes, were swearing and shouting threats, but it seemed that they were unable to see their opponent from where they were standing. Harry glanced back at the flaming building. It was only a matter of minutes before the heat from the Fiendfyre would force the hooded man to reveal himself.
Harry crawled closer, trying not to make any noise that would attract attention, while keeping his eyes on the shouting men. He risked a glance at the hiding man and saw that his cloak and hood had slipped back, revealing Draco Malfoy's tell-tale silver blond hair, and a little boy, clinging to his body with all the strength of his skinny arms and legs. Before Harry knew what he was doing, he had cast a series of spells in quick succession, stunning one man and disarming the other. At the same time, Malfoy took a few staggering steps away from the scorching heat and then collapsed, face first, into the snow.
He could hear his team behind him and knew that they would take care of the two Death Eaters, so he continued running until he reached Malfoy's fallen form. As he got closer he could see that Malfoy was conscious, but breathing in the cold air in shallow gasps, his body barely stirring. The child, a little boy, was curled up beside him, crying without making a sound. He looked up at Harry with frightened, but defiant, grey eyes. In one small hand he held a wand.
“Don't come any closer!” the little boy said. “I know a lot of hexes!”
“Okay, okay! I'll just stay here then.” Harry held up his hands and tried to make his voice soothing and calm, despite his panic. “I'm Harry. What's your name?”
“I'm Scorpius. Scorpius Malfoy. I'm not going to let you hurt my father! I'll hex you, if you try!”
“I'm not going to hurt him, Scorpius. And I think you're very brave for protecting him. But I was hoping that you would let me have a look at him, to see if something else has hurt him? The fire, maybe? Or those men over there?”
Malfoy groaned and put a hand on his son's arm. “It's okay, Scorpius. Potter isn't going to hurt us so please let me have my wand back.” Malfoy’s voice was just a whisper that ended in a coughing fit, but Scorpius handed him his wand, even though he kept his eyes trained on Harry, obviously not trusting him.
Harry crept closer, until he was crouching beside Malfoy.
“Are you all right, Malfoy? Both of you? Apart from the smoke, I mean. Did they hit you with anything?”
Shit! This was just like 8th year, when he couldn't stop babbling every time Malfoy was near. Malfoy must have considered him a total idiot by the time they left school. Maybe even more of an idiot, than before the war. Of course the man wasn't all right! His ancestral home was burning to the ground behind them and he had just escaped with his young son. Why did he always have to sound like such an idiot around Draco Malfoy?
“Yes, I think so. Or at least we will be, once I get some fresh air. I managed to cast a bubble-head charm on Scorpius, after I firecalled for help, but I didn't have time to cast one on myself.” Malfoy's voice was still weak, but not as bad as before, and he seemed to be breathing better already.
“They were casting green curses,” Scorpius whispered. “My father says that green curses are bad magic!”
“They are. Very bad magic.” Harry stood up and held out a hand to Malfoy. “Can you stand? If it's okay with both of you,” he gave Scorpius a questioning look, and waited for the boy to nod before he continued. “I'll apparate the three of us a bit further away from the fire and get the mediwitch to look you over.”
Malfoy grabbed the outstretched hand and let Harry help him to his feet, before bending down to pick up Scorpius. Harry hesitated for a moment, then he carefully draped one arm over Scorpius' shoulders and put the other around Malfoy's waist. He pulled them both as close as he dared, before apparating.
- - -
Half an hour later, Harry entered his office and found Draco and Scorpius Malfoy seated in front of his desk, swaddled in warm blankets. Scorpius was curled up in his father’s lap, asleep. He had his hand fisted in his father’s shirt and his head rested against his chest. He looked peaceful, despite the soot and grime on his face, and the worried little frown that even sleep didn't seem to erase. Draco, on the other hand, didn't look too well. His pale and drawn face reminded Harry far too much of the desperate, frightened boy he had been almost a decade before, when he was clinging to Harry’s back as they flew out of the Room of Requirement.
“How is he?” Harry nodded at the sleeping child as he sank into his own chair.
“He's frightened and exhausted. I haven't told him much about the war. He doesn't know why someone would do this to us.” Draco's voice, quiet and soft, choked a little on the last word. He looked up at Harry with an anxious expression.
“Do you mind if I call one of my elves? Can elves even apparate in here?”
“No, I don't mind at all. Elves can apparate inside the Ministry if their masters order them to do so. But if you need anything, just tell me and I'll see if I can help.”
“No, that's okay. I just want to make sure that all of them made it out of the house. Flimby!”
For a moment nothing happened and Harry’s heart sank. Draco's forehead creased in a worried frown, but then there was a crack of apparition and a small elf, wearing a torn and singed pillowcase embroidered with the Malfoy crest, appeared in front of them.
“Oh thank Merlin! Are all of you safe, Flimby?”
“Yes, Master. We is all being at the broom shed by the quidditch pitch. It is the only place left on the grounds. We is trying hard not to be punishing ourselves for not saving the Manor, Master Draco, sir.” Flimby squeaked, wringing his hands and eyeing Harry’s desk, looking like he was struggling to resist banging his head against it.
“We knows Master Draco forbade the punishing, and we will obey. But it is being a shame on elfish honour to fail to protect our master and his home!” The little elf took a deep breath, straightened up, and looked Draco in the eye with a solemn expression. “We is being sorry, Master Draco. All of us is being sorry.”
Draco disentangled one hand from the blanket and reached out to the elf. He put his hand on its bony shoulder and gave it a light squeeze.
“It will be fine, Flimby. Don't worry about that right now. Do you have everything you need? The broom shed isn't very warm.”
The elf seemed to relax a bit and his ears quivered. “Master is being so kind. We is casting warming charms and we is making a nest in one of the broom cupboards.”
“Good. Go back to the others, then. I'll call for you tomorrow, and we'll make some long-term
plans.”
“Yes, Master Draco. Happy Christmas, Master Draco.”
With a crack the elf was gone and Draco sagged back into the chair. It seemed as if he had forgotten that Harry was even in the room. “Happy Christmas!” He muttered to himself, shaking his head. “Not much chance of that, Flimby. But thank you, anyway.”
Harry's heart surged with sympathy. Draco Malfoy was as good as homeless, with the responsibility of caring for a small child. He had to remind himself to be a professional. No matter how much he empathised, he still had work to do! He cleared his throat.
“Malfoy, I have to ask a few questions...” He started, but was interrupted by Draco's weary voice.
“Yes, of course. But could you call me Draco, please? I don't like to be reminded of...” he trailed off, with a vague hand gesture, that was meant to encompass the entirety of their past acquaintance.
“Oh, sorry! Of course! You should call me Harry, then. I just have to ask you... But I suppose it won't take long. We already caught the perpetrators, after all.” Harry stammered, and earned a tired little smirk and a lifted eyebrow from Draco. He took a deep breath and continued.
“Did you see anyone, except the two men we caught at the scene?” He mentally congratulated himself on getting a whole sentence together.
“No. I didn't see anything at all. And there was no warning. They must have known how to dismantle the wards from when... From before,” Draco said.
“Flimby just apparated in front of me, while I was putting Scorpius to bed, and screamed about fire. I picked up my son and ran to the nearest chimney. I made the firecall and then we just tried to get out of the house. When I got out, someone shot a killing curse at me, and...” he swallowed and closed his eyes for a second, before continuing. “They barely missed Scorpius. We hid in the alcove. I was so scared, I couldn't think straight. I didn't even think about apparating somewhere safe! I just froze. What kind of wizard does that?”
Harry wanted to reach out to him, to comfort him and tell him about all the times during the war and in his career as an Auror, when he had been frozen in terror, just like Draco. But he didn't know how that would be received, so instead he gave Draco a small smile and nodded in understanding.
“Okay. No other known suspects, then. And we can guess the motive...”
“Yes, of course. The Malfoys are the biggest family of blood traitors left these days.” He gave a wry smile. “The Weasleys must be envious.”
Harry couldn't help the small, startled laugh that bubbled out of him at the thought, as he returned the smile, before turning serious again.
“I suppose the rest of it can wait until after we question the suspects under Veritaserum. It could be a couple of days before we get the paperwork pushed through. Especially over the holidays.” Harry flicked his wand and the papers in front of him gathered themselves in a neat stack.
“You should head to St. Mungo's for a check-up. That cough sounded nasty! Do you have somewhere to go after that? Somewhere well warded would be best, considering...” he trailed off, not really knowing how to finish the sentence without making a total fool of himself again.
“No. I don't think St. Mungo's is a good idea. Scorpius is scared of healers. He gets ear infections and hates going in to have his ears checked. I'd rather not upset him any more tonight.” He frowned.
“I suppose my aunt Andromeda would take us in. I don't know her very well, but she and Mother got on all right for the last few years before Mother passed away...”
Harry didn't know what possessed him to make the offer. Maybe it was the reminder that Draco was as much a Black as he was a Malfoy. Or maybe it was his stupid old schoolboy infatuation. No matter what, the words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself.
“You could always come home with me, if you want. To Grimmauld Place. It's properly warded, and it's practically yours anyway, since you're a descendant of the House of Black. Kreacher would dote on you, I'm sure! I mean, I'm sure you'd rather be somewhere else, but I just thought, I'd offer...Never mind. It's a stupid idea.” He finished, words drifting off into silence.
Draco's eyebrows had inched higher and higher while Harry was busy babbling his clumsy invitation. But now a relieved smile spread across his face.
“I don't think it's stupid, P... Harry. In fact, I think it's extremely generous of you. If you really mean it, I'd very much like to accept. At least for tonight. I'd hate to wake up my long lost aunt in the middle of the night, asking her to take in a pair of strays.”
- - -
Scorpius didn't even stir when his father carried him through the floo and into the drawing room of Grimmauld Place. Draco seemed to be doing better, Harry thought, but it must be heavy, carrying a sleeping four-year-old.
“I keep a room for Teddy to use when he comes over. It's right this way.” Harry nodded towards the stairs and walked ahead of Draco, flinging the door open to the room next to his own.
The room was decorated in soft greens and blues. The wallpaper had a moving motif of Quidditch players, zooming about, throwing tiny quaffles through hoops and chasing almost invisible snitches, and the bedspread had a Pygmy Puff print. There was a shelf with both wizarding and muggle toys. A child-sized racing broom was propped against one wall.
“He's probably not old enough for most of the toys, but I hope that's okay... We'll see if we can transfigure some of Teddy's clothes for him in the morning...”
“It's more than okay, Harry. It's so much more than what he would have woken up to, had you not taken us in. He'll be so excited about all the toys when he wakes up. I think I should move the broom out of reach, though...” Draco's voice was soft as he leaned over the bed and tucked his sleeping son under the blanket.
“He was very brave tonight, defending you like that.”
“Yes, he is brave. Brave and protective. I'm certain he will be in Gryffindor. It's lucky his grandfather won't be around to witness it.” Draco smiled at the sleeping child. He looked down at the Pygmy Puff blanket. “All he wanted for Christmas was a Pygmy Puff. I was looking forward to surprising him with one tomorrow. It would have been his first pet, but the poor thing must have burned to death.”
There was a suspicious hitch in Draco's voice at the end of the sentence. Shit! Harry couldn't let Draco cry over a Pygmy Puff. He would never be forgiven for witnessing a private moment. He needed to give the man some space, to let him keep his dignity.
“As horrible as it may sound, I think it's very lucky that a Pygmy Puff was the only casualty.” Harry said, debating whether it would be okay to reach out and place a comforting hand on Draco's arm. He reached out, but changed his mind at the last second. Instead he patted his shoulder in what he hoped was a consoling manner.
“Would you like to take a shower? The bathroom is right on the other side of the hallway and through the bedroom. I'll find you some clothes and leave them on the bed, yeah?”
“Thank you. I would really like to get warm and dry.” Draco took a deep breath and looked down at his wet and sooty clothes. He wrinkled his nose. “And clean!” he added.
- - -
While Draco showered, Harry paced the floor in the drawing room, running a hand through his hair. He tried to make sense of the way the last few hours had turned everything upside down. Draco Malfoy was in his house. Draco Malfoy was in his shower. Draco Malfoy was naked, in his bedroom, getting ready to wear Harry's pyjamas. He groaned and pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes to remove the picture that was forming in his mind... Draco Malfoy was straight. He was also essentially homeless, a victim of attempted murder, and, most importantly, he had a small son, who was sleeping in the room next door. And besides all that, he must also be very, very tired.
Harry was sitting in the sofa by the fireplace with a glass of firewhiskey when Draco finished his shower and walked into the drawing room. He wore a pair of Harry's soft, green pyjama bottoms and a white T-shirt. The sight of Draco in his clothes made Harry's stomach twist in a funny way. If he was still seventeen, Harry would have said that his chest monster was purring. He scooted into a corner of the sofa and motioned for Draco to sit down at the other end.
“I hope the pyjama's okay...”
“They are. I've found that muggle clothes are very comfortable. After my mother passed away I hardly ever wear robes anymore.”
“Good. Err...that the clothes are okay, I mean. If you like, I'm sure Kreacher will be happy to clean yours. I should warn you, though, he's getting old, so sometimes the laundry's not exactly up to his previous standards. On the other hand, it wouldn't surprise me if he ruined my muggle clothes on purpose. He's always trying to turn me into a 'worthy heir to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black'.”
Harry wished, too late, that he could stop himself from babbling like an idiot. Even though Draco was smiling at him and seemed not to mind his excessive chattering. He was probably just amused by Harry’s inability to form coherent sentences. What was it about Draco that made him behave like that? He started a quiet chant in his mind: Shut up, Harry. Shut up, Harry. Shut up, Harry.
“Err... would you like a drink?” Harry gestured at his glass of firewhiskey. Apparently chanting didn't work, he thought. At least he managed to stop at one semi-coherent sentence.
Draco smiled at him again. “Yes, please. I'm dead tired, but I'm also still pumped on adrenaline. I don't think I'll be able to sleep any time soon. A drink sounds like the perfect solution.”
Harry stood up and started rummaging through the glass cabinet that had once housed the Black family's collection of dark artefacts. Now it served as a makeshift bar cabinet for his rather limited collection of alcoholic beverages.
“I have Ogden's Old, if that's okay. I have some mead as well, if you'd prefer? Or some muggle stuff. I think it's called Glenfiddich...”
“Ogden's will be fine.”
Harry conjured a few ice cubes and handed the glass to Draco, before refilling his own. They sat for a while in a comfortable bubble of silence, each processing the events of the last few hours. Harry looked up in surprise, when Draco failed to suppress a yawn.
“I should go to bed,” Draco said, and put his glass down. “I think I'm going to need my rest for tomorrow. Christmas is not the ideal day to find accommodations for myself and my child, in addition to five high strung and slightly singed house elves.”
“Oh. Yes! Sleeping is a good idea. But, Draco, you don't have to stress about finding somewhere to live. You're welcome to stay here for the rest of the holidays. Only if you want to, of course...”
“That's a very generous offer, but I wouldn't want to intrude. It's just . . . my social circle is rather small these days, and the Ministry appropriated our summer cottage and the ski lodge as war reparations . . . But I'll think of something. If nothing else, I'll be able to find a flat for us as soon as Gringotts opens again after New Year’s...”
“I know this is a very personal question, and you don't have to answer, but what about Scorpius' mum? It's not that he isn't welcome here, because he is! But maybe he'd prefer to be somewhere more familiar?”
Harry knew he could be stepping on all kinds of sore toes, by asking the question that had been rolling around in the back of his head all evening, but he couldn't keep his curiosity at bay any longer. He bit his lip and waited for Draco to lose his temper and sneer at him. To his great surprise, Draco chuckled.
“Scorpius doesn't have a mother.” He stated, matter of factly. Harry looked up, startled. “I suppose he does have a birth mother and an egg-donor, too. But he's never known either woman, and it was intended that way right from the start.” Harry's heart plummeted when he saw the old Malfoy Mask slip back into place, and Draco gave him a challenging stare. “I am not interested in women, but I always wanted children. I suppose I could have adopted a child, but it was important to my parents that I produced a Malfoy heir. I was happy to grant my mother her pure-blooded grandchild, even if it didn't matter either way to me.”
Harry could only gape at him, dumbfounded. When he realised he was gaping, he winced and closed his mouth, but the question still lingered in his mind. Draco Malfoy was gay?
Draco must have misunderstood his expression and his startled spluttering, because he stood from the sofa and walked towards the door.
“Good night, Potter and thank you for your hospitality. Scorpius and I will go to the Leaky tomorrow and get a room.”
“Wait, what? Draco! Please wait!” Harry jumped from the sofa in a panic. Draco paused at the door and turned to him with a questioning look. Harry crossed the room and put a hand on Draco's arm, willing him to understand. “I should have known better than to ask you something like that. But for Merlin's sake, call me Harry. And I already told you, you're welcome to stay, both of you!”
“Are you telling me that you're comfortable with having a queer pureblood supremacist sleeping in your house for a week?” Draco spat. The old sneer once again transformed his face, making him look like his sixteen-year-old self.
“No, I'm not!” Draco tried to jerk his arm away, but Harry tightened his grip and softened his voice as he continued “But I'm okay with having you and Scorpius here.” He felt the muscles in Draco's arm relax a fraction.
“Draco, please just sit down and listen to me for a minute...” Harry pulled gently at the arm he was still holding, and Draco gave a reluctant nod and moved to sit in one of the armchairs. Harry sat back down in the sofa and poured himself another drink, before holding out the bottle and lifting one eyebrow in a silent question. After a moment of hesitation, Draco nodded and took his glass from the table and held it out to him. Harry poured him a drink, took a deep breath, and started explaining.
“I'm sorry for asking about Scorpius' mother. I'm not very good at thinking things all the way through, but I guess I should have realised that you would have mentioned it yourself, if it was relevant.” Draco gave a stiff nod. “I don't think you're a pureblood supremacist, Draco. I'm sorry if I said or did something that made you think so. Err... I mean, today. Obviously, I did both say and do things to make you believe that in the past. But I don't think it was such an unfair judgement at the time...” He finished with an awkward smile and Draco nodded in acknowledgement.
“Let's not get into that right now. I have a feeling that's going to be a very long conversation for many reasons. I'm not very good at apologising and I'd like to be awake and sober, when I do.” Draco said with a small smirk.
Harry felt his smile getting wider at the not-quite-apology, and at the thought of Draco being willing to have that conversation with him in the future.
“Okay. We can talk about that some other time, then. I don't think that you're a supremacist for having the child you wanted while at the same time trying to make your mother happy, Draco. Compromising to make everybody happy doesn't make you a blood status -obsessed bigot. It does make you a bit of a Hufflepuff, though...” Harry trailed off with a smile and was relieved to see Draco smile back.
“A Hufflepuff! How dare you! I shall remove myself from your unworthy presence at once!” Draco answered in his most snobbish tone. But he was still smiling, and he didn't make any effort to get up from the chair. They both fell quiet again, each trying to fit these new puzzle pieces into the bigger picture.
“This is not quite what I imagined your life to be like...” Draco mused and then came to an abrupt stop, as if he hadn't meant to say anything at all. Harry inwardly cheered at the admission that Draco had been thinking about him over the last few years.
“Oh? What did you imagine, then?” Harry asked.
“I don't know... I think I just assumed that you would marry Ginevra Weasley and produce a Quidditch team of ginger offspring.” Draco shrugged.
“I suppose that's what most people thought... Myself included...”
“Well, why didn't you?” Draco looked genuinely puzzled.
“For starters, it takes two people to get married, and Ginny wasn't in on the plan. I don't blame her. She made the right choice with Dean Thomas. He's charming, good looking, and he loves Quidditch just as much as she does. He also doesn't have the complications that come with being the 'Chosen One'... Oh! Also, he's straight. I suppose that's a bonus, too, if you look at it from Ginny's perspective.”
In retrospect, it was probably a bit cruel that he'd added the last sentence while Draco was taking a sip of his drink, Harry thought. He almost couldn't hear Draco's startled splutter for the rush of his own blood in his ears. There! He'd outed himself to Draco Malfoy.
“And... you're... not?” Draco gasped the words in between coughing.
“I don't think so... I haven't really wanted to be with a girl... or woman... since Ginny. And I was only a teenager back then so it never went beyond a bit of kissing.” He shrugged and traced the rim of his glass with a fingertip. He could hear a rustling as Draco leaned forward to listen more intently than before, but he didn't really have the courage to look at him in the eyes. Instead Harry focused on his glass as he continued his narrative.
“I... After the war I didn't really have the opportunity to go back to being a normal teenager. I suppose you remember eighth year? All those girls following me around? It scared the shit out of me! I suspected that I might like boys better, anyway, but I had no idea how to approach them... him... I... Err.. ended up behaving like an idiot most of the time. I think I finally decided that it was easier just being alone...” He looked up from the glass to find Draco nodding along like he knew just what Harry was talking about. Maybe he did.
“So you've been living here alone since we left school?”
“It's not as pathetic as it sounds!” Harry's protest sounded weak, even to his own ears. “I have Teddy over most weekends, and the Weasleys are still family. Molly couldn't stop mothering me even if she wanted; it's just who she is. Ron and Hermione visit, with little Rose. And... err... and Kreacher.” He finished lamely.
“That sounds like quite a large family you have there.” Draco gave him a small, but warm smile. “I'm happy for you.”
“Thanks. Teddy and Andromeda will be over for Christmas dinner tomorrow. I hope you'll join us?”
“Yes, I think we will.” Draco smiled. “I don't know my aunt very well and I have never met my little cousin, but from what you've told me tonight, I'm quite curious.”
“I look forward to introducing you.” Harry smiled back, happy at the thought of expanding Teddy's limited family to include Draco and Scorpius.
They were both startled by the sound of the clock on the mantle striking midnight. Draco hid a yawn behind his hand.
“Would it be okay if I transfigured the armchair in Teddy's room into a bed for the night? I want to be close to Scorpius...”
Harry stood up, feeling a little unsteady.
“Of course. I was going to offer you the master bedroom, though, if you'd rather sleep in a real bed. It's right next door from Scorpius. I can stay in Sirius' old room on the third floor. But it's entirely up to you.”
“I think I'd rather be where Scorpius can see me. But thanks for the offer.” Draco got up as well, swaying a bit. He yawned again and started towards the stairs.
“No problem. Transfigured beds can be a bit lumpy.”
They both reached the door at the same time and did an awkward little dance around each other, trying to determine who would go first. In the end, Harry put his hands on Draco’s shoulders and turned him slightly sideways in order to move past him. Draco, it seemed, had other ideas. He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Harry’s lips.
At first, Harry was too startled to respond. It felt like he was being pulled in at least three different
directions. His mind was screaming at him that this was dangerous, that he could be rejected at any moment, but his cock was stirring and a hot sensation that he could only describe as need, pooled in his stomach. When Draco opened his mouth in silent invitation, Harry moaned and let his tongue slip inside, to glide alongside Draco's. His hands were fisting in Draco's thin T-shirt, feeling the sensations of firm muscle and heat under his hands. When he groaned and pressed his body flush against Draco's, he could feel the hard outline of an erection through the loose pyjama-bottoms. He greedily rocked against it and basked in the sound of Draco's quiet whimper when their hard cocks rubbed together. When their kissing made him lightheaded with lust and lack of oxygen, Harry reluctantly pulled away. He didn't go far, though, because he couldn't resist bending his head to bite and lick at Draco's neck. Meanwhile, Draco's hands were sliding down his arms, coming to rest in a light grip around his wrists. Draco moved forwards, pinning him to the wall next to the door, tight enough that he couldn't easily move much, but loose enough that he could break free if he really wanted to. When Harry relaxed into the position, Draco tightened his grip and slid a hard thigh between his legs.
“Please, Draco!” Harry didn't know exactly what he was begging for, but he knew he needed Draco to do something, to make him believe that this was real. He rocked against Draco's thigh and threw his head back as Draco started planting kisses along his jaw and neck. At first they were soft and teasing, but then Draco started using his teeth, nipping at Harry's sensitive skin, and then soothing the spots with feather light touches his tongue. His whole body shuddered in pleasure and he couldn't help the moan that escaped.
“Do you want this, Harry? Do you want me to touch you?”
Harry could only whimper and nod, but it seemed to be enough, because suddenly his arms were free and Draco's hands were fumbling with his fly. When Draco's warm hand finally encircled his cock, Harry's knees nearly buckled at the sensation. He hooked his hands in the waistband of Draco's pyjamas and pulled them down, eager to feel Draco's erection against his own. He entangled his hand with Draco's and wrapped them around both their cocks. An experimental tug made stars explode behind his eyes and almost brought him over the edge, and only his reluctance for this to be over so soon pulled him back. A few more pulls had them both panting in a sweaty, sticky mess. Harry's eyes flew open as he came, and his heart soared at the sight of Draco with his head thrown back, and his mouth slightly open, silently coming apart in front of him.
For a moment they just stood there, breathing heavily and leaning against each other. Then Draco leaned in and gave him a sweet, lingering kiss.
“Happy Christmas, Harry.” He whispered, before disappearing up the stairs, leaving a gaping Harry at the landing.
Harry slowly lifted his hand and touched his still tingling and damp lips in wonder.
“Happy Christmas, Draco.” He whispered to the empty hallway.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2012-12-10 10:04 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2012-12-11 12:44 am (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2012-12-11 03:36 am (UTC)Lovely.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2012-12-11 04:05 am (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2012-12-11 06:17 am (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2012-12-11 06:27 am (UTC)Very sweet story! :)
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2012-12-11 06:43 am (UTC)Thanks.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2012-12-11 11:38 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2012-12-11 11:52 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2012-12-14 08:24 am (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2012-12-14 11:54 am (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2012-12-14 12:21 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2012-12-15 02:32 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2012-12-16 02:06 am (UTC)(no subject)
From: