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Harry Potter and the Prince of Ice	By : Neverwood Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 6234 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Anal, Angst, Fingering, H/C, HJ, M/M, Oral, Rim, Solo, Spank. I do not own Harry Potter or anything associated with it. I do not recieve money for this in any way. For entertainment purposes only.

Chapter List
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Author's Note: Hello, everyone. This is my first story I've published, though far from the first story I've written. I posted the first chapter on fanfiction.net on 6/4/16. I hope the people on this site like it as much as the people on that site seem to. A few warnings to start off with: This story will eventually get pretty heated between two male characters, and there may be some content that is offensive to some. Although there will be some major attraction and a few hot scenes in the beginning, this story is going to be a bit of a slow burn. Keep an eye on the tags, since I will be adding more when I am more certain of what will happen later in the story. Thank you to everyone who reads this, I hope you like it! Oh, and I plan on posting a chapter every Saturday. Happy smutting!
Disclaimers: I do not own Harry Potter or anything associated with it. This story is for entertainment purposes, I receive no payment for it in any way.

Fire and Ice by Robert Frost
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice

Harry Potter stood at the train station that would take him away from Hogwarts. He looked over his shoulder at the castle, wondering if it would ever be home to him again after all the pain and suffering that occurred there. His thoughts began to darken as his mind touched upon all those whom he had lost. The smiling faces of Fred, Remus, and Sirius all whirled within his mind. He was shocked out of his reverie by a hand clapping upon his shoulder. He looked to see Ron, his face grim but content. By his side was Hermione, who had a like expression. Harry imagined his wasn't so different either. They had gone through hell, yes, but they had made it back. The train arrived and people began shuffling to get on board. Ron and Hermione made their way through the thick crowd, but Harry took one more moment to look back at the life he had lived. Yes, there were many lives lost. Some in the pursuit of light, some for the sake of darkness. But one commonality was true of both: that mourning does nothing for the dead, it only affects the living. And while it was acceptable, and even recommended, to cry over the ones who were no longer with him, Harry knew all too well that sadness could become a great burden when it became too heavy for the person to bear. And that was what led to the living never having lived. He turned his back on Hogwarts and those maudlin thoughts, determined to have one good grieving session when he got back to Grimauld Place and then moving on into the next phase of his life.

As he lifted his head up and made his own way onto the Hogwarts Express, his eyes naturally drifted to a head of platinum blonde hair. He stood alone, looking for all the world like the war survivor he truly was. His grey eyes locked onto Harry's, and although nothing was said or done except staring, Harry felt a million words and thoughts had been passed between them in those few moments. Finally, Draco gave him a nod of acknowledgement. Harry gave him one in return, one man to another. Equals at last. Although Draco turned away quickly, Harry thought his expression wasn't quite so severe anymore. He boarded the train and sat with his friends, who had of course saved him a seat.

“What are you grinning for, mate?” Ron asked, but with curiosity instead of hostility. Harry was surprised to realize he did have a small smile on his face. He looked out the window as the train pulled away from the station before glancing between his two best friends in the world.

“Just happy to be going home.” Harry said, and Ron and Hermione nodded in understanding as they all watched Hogwarts and the war fade into non-existence.

...

Harry collapsed onto his bed, exhausted from the train ride and from the packing and unpacking. He closed his eyes, dreading and anticipating the storm he could feel brewing inside of him. As much as he hated the moments when fear, pain, and loss overcame him, he knew that it would be worse to fight them off. He took deep breaths and waited. And waited. And waited.

But the explosion never came. No tears fell from his eyes, no sobs or screams came from his lungs. If he wasn't so relieved by that, he would wonder what was wrong with him. After Sirius had died, he had been an absolute train wreck. Now, several of the people he cared about had been killed, and all of them for him. The Boy Who Lived. The Chosen One. The Man Who Survived.

What a load of rubbish.

Harry shook his head. No, not rubbish. He may argue how deserving he was of such sacrifice, but he would never besmirch the honor of the fallen that way. He rubbed his hands on his face before getting up off of his bed. If he wasn't going to break down, then he needed to be doing something useful. He began by going downstairs, ignoring Kreacher who was grumbling to himself as usual. To say he had been happy for “Master Harry” to come home would've been laughably off the mark. Burst his bubble would've been more accurate. Still, as sick as it was, that kind of homecoming was familiar to Harry. And at this point, anything familiar was a good thing.

He found himself wandering the house, cleaning and organizing as he went. After the third room, he began to wonder what Kreacher did all day since he obviously didn't clean. Then he pictured Hermione's face if she had heard him speak that thought aloud, shuddered for effect, and went back to inspecting his new-ish home.

He paused in a familiar doorway, propping himself on the doorjamb. There, upon the wall, was the Black family tree. He idly wished he could see Sirius's photograph, but it had been blasted off the tree long before Harry had been there. He sneered at Bellatrix's portrait, but didn't have the energy to do much else. Deciding that the room was depressing, he was about to see what horrible state the kitchen might be in when the doorbell rang. Despite the wards preventing those who would do harm to get anywhere near the building, Harry still drew his wand as he walked slowly to the entrance hall. Kreacher was deliberately not opening the door, pretending to dust as he neglected his duties. Harry was grateful, because he didn't think he wanted to have anyone in his home that Kreacher would approve of.

He grasped the handle, took a deep breath, and jerked it open. He pointed his wand at the visitor, but sighed with relief and put it away as soon as he recognized his face.

“Mr. Weasley.” Harry breathed. “Sorry about the wand, I-”

“Not to worry, Harry. I'd be more concerned if you didn't greet guests with a wand handy.” Arthur said easily. “May I come in?”

“Sure.” Harry said, stepping aside. “Ignore Kreacher, everyone else does.”
As if on cue, Kreature began grumbling loudly about blood traiters tainting the house. Arthur nodded to the house elf, which surprised both Kreature and Harry, before making his way to the dining room. He sat at the long table that once held the Order of the Pheonix meetings, running his hand along the wood as if reliving happy memories. He shook himself out of his reminiscing as Harry sat beside him.

“As much as I did want to see you, Harry, I'm afraid I'm here on business.” Arthur admitted nervously.

“For the Ministry?” Harry asked, a little put off. “You'd think they would give me one day to relax.”

“Yes, well...” Arthur said uneasily. “There has been a bit of an...an issue. Yes, an issue. You see, um...”

Harry waited patiently for Arthur to continue, all the while running through the possible scenarios of what the Ministry needed from him now. Did they have some other ultimate evil that needed taking down? If so, he was going to demand compensation for this one.

“Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy have been arrested. Draco, however, has been let out on leave.” Harry had learned in his second year that being let out on leave was the wizarding equivalent of being let out on bail. “He is free to roam within London until the day of his trial. But Malfoy Manor has been designated a crime scene, and all of Malfoy's property and his fortunes have been seized by the Ministry.”

Harry felt a deep pang of sympathy for Draco. Despite their years of hatred and rivalry, he had grown past that in the last year. He had come to the realization that Draco was not an evil murderer, or at least not of his own accord. He had simply been a pawn in a game that was too big for him, a kid caught up in the drama of war, a tool for Voldemort to use and dispose of whenever he pleased. He didn't blame Draco for the horrible things he had done on account of Voldemort, and he personally believed the experience had changed Draco for the better. To hear of how his fortunes had turned so much for the worse was almost a physical pain to Harry.

“Where will he stay? With his friends?”

Arthur shook his head. “Those who showed no remorse were also arrested, those who repented were also placed on leave. One of the terms was that they not associate with anyone who was also on leave.”

Harry swore under his breath. “So, what? The Ministry will leave him in the street?” Harry saw Arthur's mouth open, but didn't wait for his reply before standing and slamming his hands upon the table. “That's utter rubbish! It's prejudiced, it's illegal-”

“Careful, Harry.” Arthur said, and the quietness of his tone hushed Harry more than anything. “The victory may be ours, but we are a long way from true recovery. The Ministry is tense right now, they want to make an example of people.”

“Like Draco.” Harry said bitterly.

“Like you.” Arthurt warned. "There are still those in the Ministry who are still smarting from you proving them wrong about You-Know-Who's return. They would not be opposed to seeing you put in Azkaban for as long as they could get away with, war hero or not."

Harry locked eyes with him for several moments before nodding, and sitting back down.

“Okay. I'll listen.” Harry said after a moment.

“Good.” Arthur said, squeezing Harry's hand before pulling back. “Now, the reason I bring up young Malfoy is because his living arrangements are the issue I came to discuss with you. Specifically, the fact that he has none.”

Harry nodded. “I still own my parents' old house in Godric's Hollow. He can stay there until after the trial.”

Arthur looked reserved. “As much as I admire your charity, Harry, I fear it would do more harm than good. Godric's Hollow has little to protect Draco, and there are many who consider letting a Death Eater live a crime against nature.”

“Former Death Eater.” Harry said, and it was more instinct than anything after all the times he had made that correction already.

“Yes, of course. Slip of the tongue, as the Muggles say.” And for a moment, the old Arthur Weasley was back. But too quickly he fell back into slumber, replaced by a more somber version. “In any case, Godric's Hollow would not be enough to protect Draco.”

Harry nodded. “Yes, I can see that now. So what do you suggest?”

Arthur pointedly looked around the room. “Grimmauld Place is quite sizeable for a young man alone. Certainly big enough for two individuals to coexist without having to hardly speak to one another.” Arthurt fixed a direct look at Harry. “And I don't know any man or woman foolish enough to go after the Man Who Survived. Certainly not so soon after such a substantial victory.”

Harry sat in silence for a long while, the idea Arthur was heavily implying running around his mind without truly taking hold. Athur said nothing, only watched in patient silence that was only broken by Kreature in the next room, still muttering to himself. Harry eventually processed enough information to get one reply out.

“He hates me.”

Though, after the interaction they had at the station, he wasn't quite so sure of that anymore.

“Harry, can you really turn away a man in need?” Arthur asked. Harry felt a spark of irritation as Arthur used his own sense of decency against him, but quickly squelched it. He had more important things on his mind right now.

“You're suggesting Draco lives here.” Arthur nodded. “With me.” Arthur made an unsure gesture with his head before nodding again. “For however long it takes for his name to be cleared.” A more hesitant nod. Harry sighed heavily as he looked down at the table, considering his options for a while. While he no longer hated Draco, he was a long way from liking him. Still, Arthur had a point. If he refused and Draco died as a result, could he really live with that on his conscience?

And just like that, his decision was made. He looked Arthur in the eye, spent another moment of hesitation, and finally spoke.

“I'm in.”
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Harry Potter and the Prince of Ice