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Under the Manor	By : WillGirl Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 13318 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I make no claims to Harry Potter, either books or movies, and all rights belong to JKR. No money or other recompense is being made from this story.

Chapter List
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Harry went about the motions of his daily life in a fog. The other Aurors joked, when they noticed his distraction, that that was what came of getting Potter to loosen up for an evening—backlash. They laughed, and Harry forced weak grins, and life went on.

And, gradually, life did go on. Harry’s tense muscles eased, and the suffocating burden of guilt lightened, and although at first Harry had wondered how Malfoy had lived through such wretchedness himself after that night in the Manor’s cellar long ago, eventually he realized that Draco had lived through it, and that he would, as well.

And Ginny came home, and people talked and laughed, and made jokes, and sometimes days went by without Harry blaming himself for anything at all. That was Ginny’s doing, largely; she had no patience for what she called Harry’s “absurd survivor’s guilt complex,” and whenever she caught him wallowing in thoughts of things he had done, or hadn’t, and people that he hadn’t saved, she stopped him; distracted him with jokes, or kisses, or insults, or tickling, or just by being her own bright, sunny self, and soon Harry’s smiles no longer ached upon his face.

Not everything horrible that happened, even if it happened in the vicinity of Harry Potter—even if he should have stopped it happening, somehow—that wasn’t his fault, not automatically. That was what being around Ginny made him realize, usually two or three times a day, because if something as wonderful as Ginny could happen to him, then it meant that he didn’t deserve horrible things.

If something like Ginny could happen to him, then so could life.

And that was what happened: life.

They went out with friends, and ate, and shopped, and kissed, and cuddled, and sometimes they shouted at one another, and then realized that it was over something silly, and then they laughed and kissed some more. They went on dates, on actual dates like normal people, although it was a little awkward doubling with Ron and Hermione, because everyone was trying so hard not to kiss each other in front of one another, so despite Ron and Hermione being his best friends, Harry generally had more fun on evenings out with Neville and Hannah, or Dean and Parvati, or Seamus and...whoever Seamus was seeing that week.

But the best times were when they all went out, the whole scarred remnant of the old D.A., and they could just have fun, and remember the past without recalling its horrors, and they could toast Collin without crying, or tell jokes in honor of Fred, or pass around pictures of little Teddy (because the entirety of the D.A. had declared themselves to be honorary aunts and uncles, and Teddy now had more volunteer babysitters than Andromeda knew what to do with).

They didn’t think much on Death Eaters, those survivors of Dumbledore’s Army—and of the Order of the Phoenix—despite how much time and effort they had once focused on Voldemort’s closest; didn’t think, often, even on very reluctant, repentant Death Eaters, and it was nearly a month before Draco Malfoy crossed Harry’s mind again.

He was in Diagon Alley with Ginny. They weren’t out to buy anything in particular, but the new model of Nimbus had been released, and they had of course wanted to take a look at it. Upon seeing the way Ginny’s eyes lit up at the sight of the sleek, shining handle and the smooth curve of its bristles—and upon seeing the decidedly impressive stats—Harry had privately resolved that, two months from now, it would be her birthday present, no matter how loudly she insisted that it was too expensive a gift and he had better take it straight back (as if he would be able to pry it out of her hands, once he’d put it there!) and get a refund instead.

Besides, she would be starting for the Harpies next season, and Harry saw no reason why his girlfriend shouldn’t have the best broom on the market. And so long as he didn’t tell her his plans, she couldn’t stop him.

So they had been walking down the street, all bright smiles and tumbling words, talking about the new broom and about old flights, and matches they had flown in days past, and not paying any attention to the world around them...when suddenly, just come around the corner in front of them, there was Draco Malfoy.

Harry stumbled, and Ginny laughed at him for getting clumsy, now that he spent so much time behind a desk. Harry was too startled by the sight of the tall, pale figure at the end of the street to make his customary token protest of an abundance of field work, and not nearly enough time spent doing his backlog of paperwork for there to be much desk-sitting, but Ginny must have put his lack of response down to lingering distraction over the new Nimbus, because she didn’t call him out on it.

Harry stared.

Malfoy ignored him.

Or, Harry thought he did. There might have been a tiny, almost imperceptible nod, but if there was, Harry failed to perceive it. He could feel his heartbeat speeding up in his throat, and hoped that the heat spreading in his face wasn’t visible in the dreary London sunlight.

“Huh,” said Ginny, her eyebrows arching in something that was half-scorn and half-smile. “Would you look at that,” she muttered, “Malfoy’s out and about. That’s weird.”

“What’s weird?” Harry asked.

“Oh come on, Harry,” Ginny said, “the dumbass git’s practically been a recluse since the war. Everyone knows that.”

“Oh,” said Harry.

Ginny snickered. “Oh, honey,” she sighed, “you really are the most oblivious person sometimes, you know that, right?” She gave him a quick peck, then shook her head, laughing quietly at her incognizant sweetheart.

Harry shrugged. “Yeah,” he admitted, “I know. Still, I’m better than Ron at least.”

Ginny made no sign of agreement, but instead became very interested in the display window they were passing, which was full of frilly dress robes. Harry might be dense, but he at least knew that any time Ginny evinced interest in clothes like that, she was faking it.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, “come on, I am better than Ron, you have to at least admit that!”

Ginny laughed and linked her arm through his. “Oh, I suppose,” she said grudgingly. “Sometimes...maybe...” Her brown eyes sparkled with a poorly suppressed smile and something that sounded suspiciously like a giggle slipped from between her lips.

Harry pouted heavily. “You’re so mean,” he said.

Ginny laughed again. “That’s me,” she said, “Ginevra Weasley, Dark Lord.”

“Dark Lady,” Harry specified.

“Oh yeah,” said Ginny, “about that.” She drew her brows into a very serious, almost penitent expression. “Harry, listen, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you...”

Harry snorted so hard he nearly hurt himself. “There is, huh?” he asked. “And what are these, then,” he asked, daring a quick grope at her chest despite the public street they were on. Ginny squawked and fended him off through a fit of giggles.

“Got ‘em from the joke shop,” she retorted. “Nice, aren’t they?”

“Brilliant,” Harry agreed. “They do good work there, although I have to admit, I never expected to get this much return on my investment...”

They walked off together, both of them snickering now, and continuing to quip about Wheezes and “inspecting the merchandise.” The sound of cheerful laughter trailed behind them like falling flower petals.

Around the corner a tall, pale figure leaned against the rough brick wall for a moment and silently watched them go. The expression on his face was inscrutable, but there was something faint and haunted behind the cool mask of his grey eyes.
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Under the Manor