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Here But For the Grace of Merlin	By : makochan0217 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 21620 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 13
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling. We make nothing from this piece of fanfiction, and suing would be pointless, unless you like lint and bad skin!

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
Warnings: Angst, OOC, DH spoilers (minus Epilogue), language, violence, self-harm, drinking, slash, smut, non-con, BDSM

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Publishing, and Warner Bros and some other stupid companies. I make nothing from this piece of fanfiction, and suing would be pointless, unless you like lint and bad skin!

Author’s Notes: Thanks go to my reviewers! You guys rock! Pumpkin pasties for everyone! Yummy! And as for the chapter title, I have The King and I’s soundtrack stuck in my head. Special thanks to Twisted Mind on hpfandom for reminding me that I’m a HUGE pervert. I heart you, dear!

Chapter Thirteen – Getting to Know You

Dear Bill (and Fleur),

Thanks for writing me back so soon. I’m sorry that I didn’t try to get in contact with you sooner than I did, but you’re right. I needed the space and I wasn’t getting it at the Burrow. I didn’t know that you would have given me refuge at Shell Cottage again, but I guess I really should have. I’m just not… used to having family, so the thought never occurred to me.

“Merlin, Potter, your handwriting is atrocious!” Draco grumbled as he looked over the Gryffindor’s shoulder while he wrote to the Curse Breaker and his quarter-Veela wife. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that before now?”

“Yeah, Snape,” Harry muttered.

“Didn’t you ever learn a Penmanship Charm?”

“No, what’s that?”

“Here, give me your quill,” the blond said, taking said object from the other boy’s hand and casting the spell on it. “It keeps your lines straight, so it doesn’t look like you’re drunk on Firewhisky as you write.” He gave his companion a slight smirk. “I’m surprised that Granger never told you about it.”

“She’s never needed it. Hermione’s got perfect handwriting,” the black-haired teen grumbled as he took the quill back. “Now, can I get back to my letter? I’d like to owl this back to them soon and then take a nap.”

“Certainly.”

Anyway, thanks for the offer again, but I’m currently staying with the Malfoys at Malfoy Manor. Narcissa and Draco extended the invitation, and since I didn’t know that I’d be welcome at Shell Cottage, I accepted. My Healer advised me not to be alone while I’m being treated for the magical backlash, and Hermione surprised me by telling me it was a sensible thing to do.

“It was, you know,” Draco interrupted. He was surprised when the other man looked up abruptly, green eyes shining with something that the blond couldn’t place. When a small smile broke out over Harry’s face, Draco found it hard to breathe and he began to think that the environmental charms on the room had malfunctioned.

“Yeah, I do.”

I’ve talked things over with Draco, and he has suggested a Wizard’s Oath for your safety when you come. I’d like for you to make the same thing. Hermione and I will be here to keep both sides in line, no offense, while the curing takes place, so you don’t have to worry about your wellbeing. If this is amenable, please write back so that we can set up a date.

All my love,

Harry

P.S. Thanks for the offer, Fleur, but I doubt it would have done any good. I’d love to see you again as well. Maybe you can come with Bill?

“Do you really think Weasley will let his wife come with him here?” Draco asked as Harry dried, folded and sealed the letter before attaching it to the leg of the barn owl that originally delivered Weasley’s message.

“I don’t know, but I thought if we extended the offer, then at least Bill would see that it’s genuine and not some scheme to kill him.”

“Very cunning,” Draco said with a bright smile. He was rewarded with an endearing blush from the Gryffindor before he yawned. “Now, I’ll let you get some sleep. I still need to talk to Mother and Granger about what we’ve decided.”

“Alright,” Harry responded, getting up from the fifteenth century writing desk that he’d thrown himself at to write the reply. Draco had cringed when he’d done it, but there didn’t seem to be any damage to the antique, so he’d saved his breath berating the tired Saviour. “If Etienne comes back, I’ll call you.”

“Thank you,” Draco said as he turned to go. Before he left the room, he spun back around to face his houseguest. “Oh, before I forget, I should probably assign you a house-elf. Mother would never forgive me if you got lost in the Manor while you’re staying here.”

“It’s not necessary,” Harry said sleepily as he took off his shoes.

“Actually, it might be. There are still places that are warded off because of the… last guests we had at the Manor, and if something were to happen to you, I think the rest of the Wizarding world would have me lynched.” Draco quickly ran through his mind the names of the more reliable elves his family owned. “Crimmy.”

A house-elf wearing a black tea towel that had been recently pressed popped up beside him, her long ears grazing the floor as she bowed. “You called for Crimmy, Master Draco?”

“I did,” he said tersely. “Crimmy, you are now the personal elf of Harry Potter, do you understand?”

“Yes, Master Draco, Crimmy is to be taking care of Master Harry while he is staying here.”

“Precisely.”

“Draco, you don’t have to do this,” Harry said with a horrified expression on his face. “I have my own elf, you know.”

“Yes, and from what you’ve told me, he’s hardly fit to serve Weasley, let alone you. However, if you wish to call him and have Crimmy help gather your things, then I don’t mind if Kreacher comes to stay at the Manor as well.”

“Oh, okay,” Harry said. “Kreacher!”

Draco flinched as the oldest house-elf he’d ever seen popped up loudly and inelegantly next to Harry on the bed. Obviously the thing had forgotten how to behave like the elf of a rich, pureblood family over the years. “Master Harry called Kreacher?” Then the old elf looked around and his large eyes got impossibly larger as he spotted Draco. “Oh, we is at Malfoy Manor. Kreacher is close to Black blood again. He is so happy, Master Harry. There is no nasty blood traitors or Mudbloods at Malfoy Manor.”

“Kreacher!” Harry shouted, flushing angrily. “I thought we talked about you using those words.”

The elf seemed to deflate as he turned back to his master. “Kreacher is being very sorry, Master Harry. Kreacher will iron his hands when he is being done with Master’s biddings.”

“No, don’t do that,” Harry said gently, placing a hand on the elf’s thin, shaking shoulder. “Look, we’ll be staying at the Manor for a while, and Draco just assigned Crimmy to help me.”

Kreacher looked over at the proud Crimmy, who puffed out her chest in defiance as she watched him. “Master Harry is not needing stupid Crimmy to watch after him. Kreacher is to be taking care of Master Harry just fine.”

“This is not up for debate, elf,” Draco drawled, folding his arms across his chest. “I gave Crimmy the order to watch over Harry during his stay. You will not argue this, understood?”

“Yes, Master Draco Malfoy, Kreacher is understanding.” The old elf sagged and looked as if he was going to burst out into tears from the scolding.

“Good,” Draco said without mercy for the stupid creature’s feelings. “Now, you and Crimmy will return to Harry’s home and gather his belongings. Your stay is for an indeterminable amount of time, and I’m sure that Harry doesn’t want his things to be stolen by someone breaking into his home.” Both elves nodded before Kreacher grabbed Crimmy’s hand and then Apparated away. “I’m sorry for taking over, but your elf is impossible.”

Harry smiled sleepily as he lay down against the green bedding. “I told you he was. And thanks anyway. It’s better you that handled him than me. He still irks me sometimes, but that was actually much better than he used to be.”

Draco shuddered. “I can just imagine. He came with Grimmauld Place, I take it.”

“Mmhmm, used to steal things around there when Sirius was trying to clean it up. He even…” Harry trailed off with a frown. “He even helped your mother and aunt convince Sirius that I was in danger fifth year so that my godfather rushed to the Ministry and your aunt killed him.”

The look of anger on the green-eyed man’s face made Draco nervous. “I hope you don’t blame Mother for that anymore.”

“No, she was following orders,” Harry muttered, his features softening as he continued to look at Draco. “Kinda hard to say no to Voldemort when he doesn’t hold any regard for one’s family. I understand. I just hate Bellatrix.”

“Understandable,” Draco answered slowly, a warm feeling gathering in his chest. “I’ll leave you be. Crimmy will show you to the dining room in time for dinner. I’m going to check on Mother and Granger before I begin making arrangements to bring Father home.”

“Mkay,” Harry answered, closing his eyes. Draco watched him as he fell asleep before leaving, the warm feeling continuing as he walked through the halls of Malfoy Manor.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Narcissa looked up as the door to the parlour opened, admitting her distracted looking son. She hid a smile as she recognized the almost stunned look on his face. ‘I can only assume that things have gone well with Harry. However, I will just have to ask him why he appears so happy.’ She leaned back into her chair at the tea table and motioned slightly with her head to the girl sitting across from her. “Ah, Draco, how is Harry?”

“Oh, he’s taking a nap,” the blond teen said as he took an open spot at the table. “He received a reply from Bill Weasley while we were talking.”

“Ah, did you now?” She waited patiently for him to continue. Sadly, Draco had inherited his sense of the dramatic from his father, and Lucius was known to have others practically begging before he gave in and told what he knew. Narcissa had never caved into Lucius, and had no reason to start with her son.

“Yes,” he drawled, pouring himself a cup of tea and only adding a little honey, indicating that he was in a pleased mood and did not need the consolation of a lot of sweetness. “Weasley was reluctant to assist us, not that I blame him, but Harry is determined to have him help with Father.”

“That sounds like Harry,” Hermione – the girl had insisted that she be called by her given name, and Narcissa wasn’t likely to refuse when she needed her to back her plans – said. “What did Bill ask for to convince him?”

“Not much, actually, but he has had second thoughts about entering the Manor,” Draco said slowly before taking a sip of his drink.

“Malfoy, I had more than just second thoughts about entering the Manor. I’m sure Bill had four or five second thoughts about doing so. He has even less reason to enter than I did.” Narcissa felt a momentary flash of shame for the way the girl had been treated in her home the last time she was here, but she was also wise enough to not dwell on the fact.

“My dear Hermione, while I agree with you, it is best that we find out how Harry has solved this problem,” she said warmly, causing the girl to smile widely at her. ‘Yes, if Harry had any leanings towards the female sex, he would most definitely been struck by his friend’s intelligence and beauty. I’m sure his relationship with the Weasley girl was more because it was what was expected of him after coming to the Wizarding world.’ She turned cool blue eyes on her son. “Draco?”

He shook his head, as if he were able to read Narcissa’s thoughts, before answering. “He suggested that Weasley be allowed to bring a few of his brothers for protection.” Narcissa was about to object, but he gave her a knowing smile. “Of course, I refused. One Weasley would be enough, what with the feud between our families being so long standing. I suggested a Wizard’s Oath from the both of us, Mother, to guarantee Weasley’s safety.” He shook his head minutely yet again. “Harry wants Weasley to take one as well and offered to mediate, with Granger’s assistance of course, during the entire proceeding.”

Narcissa could have crowed for joy, if it hadn’t been completely undignified. “Wonderful news, darling,” she said calmly. “Do you know if Weasley will accept this proposal?”

“I can only guess at this point, Mother, but it would probably be the best solution to everything,” he replied before snatching the last biscuit and finishing his tea. “Harry sent the letter back, so we’re currently awaiting a reply.” He placed his cup softly on its saucer. “Did you know that he’s married to Fleur Delacour?”

“Wasn’t she the champion of Beauxbatons during the Tournament, dear?”

“Yes, she and Bill married last August,” Hermione answered. “They have a very pretty cottage out in the country.”

“Yes, Harry said that it was called Shell Cottage, but not much else,” Draco replied.

“He wouldn’t have…” the girl said carefully. “It’s where we went when we escaped here. We buried Dobby not too far from the house itself.”

“Dobby?” Narcissa interrupted finally. “Where have I heard that name before? Dear, do you know?”

“He was your husband’s personal house-elf, Mrs. Malfoy. Harry freed him from Lucius during our second year.”

“Oh, yes, now I remember,” the blonde woman said finally. “He was quite put out about losing Dobby’s services, but Sinky has proven to be a much more stable replacement.”

“Yes, well, Mother, Sinky didn’t have Grandfather Abraxas casting Crucio on it every day while in his employ,” Draco said finally, a light blush dusting his chiseled cheekbones. She wondered if this had to do with his own experience with the Cruciatus curse, or if it was because he remembered how Hermione was such a huge advocate for house-elf rights.

Narcissa looked over at Hermione, who appeared to be choking on something. “I’m sorry,” she whispered uncomfortably. “I can’t stay here. I’ll be back in the morning to help with Harry, Narcissa.” She stood up abruptly and knocked over the chair she’d been sitting in, making her way to the door of the parlour. “No need to see me out. I’ll find my own way.” Then, she was gone, practically running out of the room.

The two Malfoys looked at one another, confusion showing openly before they both gathered their composure. “That was unexpected,” Narcissa mused. “I’m not sure why, however. We should have foreseen a very dramatic response to any mention of torture in front of the girl, especially if it occurred here.”

“Mother, we can’t always guard our tongues,” Draco said after a moment’s hesitation. “It will help no one if we tiptoe around what happened.”

“Yes, My Dragon, that’s true, but we can try to be understanding to any discomfort we cause our guests,” she said. “It is not just Harry that is suffering at this point in time. Miss Granger was tortured most cruelly at the hands of my sister Bellatrix. The very fact that she was willing to step inside the Manor is a testament to her courage and determination to help her friend.”

“Then I guess the Hat wasn’t wrong for putting her in Gryffindor after all,” Draco snarked.

“Do not demean her, Draco,” Narcissa warned. “As much as it pains me to say this, we owe a lot to Miss Granger, and even more to Harry.” She eyed him carefully, considering what she should say to him. “You are aware that you owe him a debt of honour, are you not?”

“Yes, Mother, I am aware of that,” he answered, properly chastised.

“Good,” she said, patting one of his long fingered hands. “I expect you to explain that to Harry. Not right away, of course, but eventually, he will have to be told.”

She watched as Draco slumped down into his chair, glaring at the wall across from him. “He will resent anything we attempt to do as far as a marriage contract with another family is concerned. And I have already offered him shelter here at the Manor.”

“There is another way to fulfill that clause of the debt, Draco.” Narcissa waited, patiently, as her son put two and two together.

“Do you really think that he would? It’s improbable,” he whispered.

“Do not play dumb with me, My Dragon,” she replied, pouring another cup of tea from the newly refilled pot one of the elves had placed on the table. “You and I both know where Harry’s attentions lie right now.”

“That doesn’t mean that he would want to join the family, Mother,” he yelled. She raised one eyebrow at him and he flushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. I stand behind what I’ve said. At one time, he was with the Weaselette. He has made it clear that he never wanted to marry her. However, there’s no guarantee-”

“You, Draco, have not been paying attention as closely as you should.” She held up a hand when he opened his mouth to retort. “I am aware, unlike your father ever could have been, that you had no interest in either of the Greengrass girls, no matter how attractive they were, or Pansy Parkinson, for all her fawning over you. I also understand why and do not care. You are well within your rights to not marry someone who would only embarrass the Malfoy name. Lucius was too blind to see the forest for the trees. I have been discussing certain things with Miss Granger about how Muggles reproduce, outside of the conventional means. It’s fascinating, to be honest. I suggest that you take the opportunity to learn some of that information.

“However, you are honour-bound to bring Harry Potter into our family or to help him make an acceptably respectable marriage. Were he to marry Ginevra Weasley, it would be beneath us and him both.” She held back a girlish giggle as her son scowled like he’d done as a child when told he’d have to wait for sweets until after dinner. “Now, do you know that your grandfather’s great-uncle Marcus Julius bonded with a man he owed a debt of honour to so he could fulfill it?” Draco shook his head. “Neither did I until yesterday while I was checking the family records.” She gave him a wide grin. “It just so happens that the man he bonded with was a Richard Potter.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next time Lucius woke up, the pain had subsided, marginally, but he found it impossible to raise his head or move any of his limbs. He felt as if he’d had a ten tonne weight strapped to his chest and he was breathing rather harshly. When he opened his eyes, it was difficult to focus on anything, even the bland, white walls of the room he was in. Slowly, he closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing as evenly as he possibly could.

The sound of others talking reached him, and it took a few seconds before the words made sense. “When is his family coming to get him then?” It was a woman’s voice and not one he recognized, which had his nerves on edge.

“I don’t know, but his miserable whelp of a son interrogated me earlier about his condition,” a male responded snottily.

“Really, Michael, you only have yourself to blame for being so rude to him and his mother while they were asking questions.”

“Yes, well, it’s difficult to deal with Death Eater scum. Why should I treat someone who should, in all honesty, be rotting away in some cell in Azkaban?!”

“Because you are a Healer, Michael,” the woman snapped. “Regardless of the patient, you are bound by your oath to give your absolute best every time.”

“That may work for you, Sophia, dealing with the great Harry Potter, but you didn’t have to deal with Little Lord Malfoy.”

“Actually, it appears that Lord Malfoy is friends with Mr. Potter, and I did have to deal with his stuck-up, bigoted arse,” she replied sharply. “Now, you should look after your patient until he is taken home, and then you have rounds. If I find that you’ve neglected to do so, I’ll reprimand you, no questions asked. Is that understood?”

“Perfectly,” the male Healer replied sullenly. “I’ll get right to it then.”

Lucius listened to the woman’s sharp, staccato footsteps as she walked away and feigned sleep when the door to his room opened. “Well, Mr. Malfoy,” the male said cruelly but quietly. “Let’s see what we can’t do about making you feel… better, shall we?”

TBC

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Here But For the Grace of Merlin