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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
- 17
- 18
- 19
Warnings and Disclaimers found in Chapter 1.

Author’s Notes: I’m really sorry about the delay. Writer’s Block and working on a birthday gift for a friend have severely cut into the time I use to work on my regular stories. Thanks to all my reviewers, and Jokes is still the bestest!

Chapter Eighteen—Tick Tock, Tick Tock

Draco looked through the doorway and into the room where Healer Jacobi and Bill Weasley worked together to take the curses off of his father. It had taken a week for both men to finally agree on how to go about the business of doing so when they realised that the Confundus and miscast Bedazzling Hex had to be removed at the same time, but slowly and in small increments. This was day three of their joint effort and things appeared to be going well with them.

His mother and Fleur Delacour-Weasley sat at the far end of Lucius's room, chatting as if they were old friends. The two women had come directly to the room when the Healer and Curse Breaker had begun to work early that morning. In fact, Draco hadn't actually seen his mother at all until now. He had been the one to receive their guests down in the Floo room and escort them upstairs. The room had been empty of anyone but his father and a lone house-elf that kept guard at night.

In the time that had passed, Draco had not been idle. After he’d had the conversation with Granger about his father and he finally decided to go forth with the healing, things had moved forward quickly on the potions front as well. In fact, he'd just left the girl in his lab with Harry, brewing up the potions that the Healers—Jacobi had added a nutrition potion to Sharpe's prescriptions—had assigned the stubborn Gryffindor. She'd been most adamant about having the notoriously horrid-at-Potions Potter assist her as she brewed, saying that it would give the bespectacled teen something to do besides brood over his own weighty decision.

This brought Draco to the crux of his problem—Harry still hadn’t made up his mind about what he would do regarding the debt of honour. Draco had been forced to do a little research into the matter himself and discovered that if, in a year's time of the debt's start, both sides hadn't come to an agreement about how it was to be settled, then the side that owed the debt would forfeit their rights to magic. As it was now March—nine months since the Final Battle and eight since the trials—Draco could feel his magic failing to respond at certain times. There were other times where he would attempt to cast a spell he'd done a million times before and pain would lance up his right arm from his wand. It was truly most inconvenient.

He watched as his mother used her embroidering materials. Every now and then, her fast fingers would stop and put down the circle as if she’d been shocked. It was obvious that she was feeling the effects as well. It would only get worse and more painful as the year’s deadline grew nearer.

“Darling, why are you standing in the doorway?” Narcissa asked gently, her voice carrying well in the vast room. “Is there something the matter?”

“No, Mother,” he said, stepping into the room and walking over to the seating arrangement by the large fireplace. “Everything is as well as can be. I’ve come to check on the healing and to see how you and Mrs Weasley are doing this beautiful day.”

“We are doing veery well, zhank you, Lord Malfoy,” Fleur said sweetly. “Your mozher was just telling me about ‘er new pattern zhat she is working on.”

“Yes, I was telling her how I came across it when I was going through your grandmother’s things last week,” Narcissa added.

Draco looked down at the beautiful pattern that was being stitched out on the snow-white fabric. It was of a peacock and dragon intertwined. Both animals were in the same blue-green shade that one found in regular peafowl. After taking a closer look, he could see blood on the edges of the fabric and swallowed. His mother had been known for her nimble, quick fingers and beautiful needlework. He couldn’t remember a time when she’d pricked herself so badly that she bled on her projects. Evidently, the magical needle was angry with her.

Shoving down his anxiety, he gave both women one of his most charming smiles. “Ah, yes, didn’t Grandmére have a copy of this in her rooms before she passed away?” he asked calmly.

“Yes, she did. It was her insistence that you be named after Draconis, you know?” Narcissa offered, placing her embroidery in her lap before reaching for the teacup at her side. “She knew of the Black family tradition of naming the children after constellations and thought it was a tragedy that my mother had deviated from it with myself.”

“Yes, I’ve always wondered why Grandmother Druella decided to name you outside of the tradition,” Draco replied, taking a seat next to his mother.

“She always told me that she told Father that since he had Bella and…Andromeda following in the Black tradition, she was allowed to name me after her own family’s tradition of Latin and Greek names.” Narcissa looked over at their guest and smiled. “I’m afraid that we must be boring you, Fleur.”

“Oh, not at ahll,” Fleur gushed happily. “I find it veery interesante to ‘ear about zhe nameen traditions of your families.”

“You are too kind,” Narcissa said. “Of course, Draco, your grandmother’s insistence about your name fit all three family traditions, so it was very welcome to everyone involved.”

“Hm…” he vocalised, looking over at the bed, where the other men were located. “How is the healing coming along today? Has Jacobi spoken to you about it?”

“He and Mr Weasley believe that in a few more days, your father will finally wake up and then it should only be a day after that when he will be completely healed,” Narcissa said smoothly. It was only the slight trembling of her hand that let Draco know how very happy she was about the prospect of it being nearly over for their family—at least when it came to his father’s well-being.

“’Ow is ‘Arry today?” Fleur asked quietly as her musical voice cut into Draco’s heavy thoughts. “I deed not see ‘im when we arrived.”

“Oh, I left him and Granger in my potions lab,” he replied smoothly. “He’s been brooding for the last few days, and I thought that she would be the one to finally get him out of his funk.”

“’As ‘e made up ‘is mind about zhe debt of ‘onour yet?”

“Not that he has said to anyone, and since he has yet to vocalise it, the magic has not registered his decision,” Narcissa answered.

“But...but...’as no one told ‘im zhe consequences of zhe time frame?” the French woman asked, sounding rightly appalled.

“We decided to refrain from telling him about that,” Draco said. “He already feels as if he is being pressed in on every side. I felt it would be wrong to add more pressure to an already difficult decision for him.”

“’Ow noble,” Fleur spat. “Will zhat be enough when your magic begeens to eat away at your bones?” She turned to Narcissa with a harsh look on her pretty face. “Where is ‘e? I will talk to ‘im about zhis right now!”

“Fleur?” Bill Weasley called, his handsome face—despite the scars from Greyback that made Draco a little nauseous with guilt—wearing a worried expression. “Is there something wrong?”

“Oui, Bill, ‘Arry ‘as not made his decision about zhe debt yet,” his wife said heatedly. “Zhey are already suffering from zhe side effects!”

“Mrs Weasley,” Healer Jacobi said, coming over to the upset woman and placing a comforting hand on her arm. “I am giving Narcissa and Draco the needed pain potions every day and checking to make sure that they aren’t suffering irreparable damage.”

“’e does not know,” she snarled. “Zhey ‘af not told ‘im zhat zhis would ‘appen!”

“What?” Bill asked, his face turning from confused to angry as he looked at Draco. “You haven’t told him what would happen?”

“I thought it was enough for him to know that if he refused that we would be Squibs. I didn’t want to add more pressure to his already weighted down decision,” Draco defended. “You know what he is like, Weasley. He already carries enough guilt for the entire Wizarding world! I didn’t think that he could handle anymore!”

“Bloody hell! Draco, you’re an idiot. Where is he?” Draco felt his jaw clench in anger. He didn’t want to insult the man who was doing his family a great service, but it was a close thing. “Never mind,” Bill said, turning to Narcissa. “Do you know where he is?”

“Harry is with Hermione in Draco’s potion lab. I can call an elf to show you the way, if you’d like,” Narcissa said charmingly. Draco snarled at his mother and was ignored. “Crimmy!”

Harry’s personal elf popped up next to where Narcissa sat and curtseyed quickly. “Mistress Narcissa called for Crimmy?”

“Yes, please show Mr and Mrs Weasley the way to Master Draco’s potions lab and bring Miss Granger back here,” Narcissa asked politely. The elf nodded and started out of the room, the Weasleys following behind the creature.

“How dare you,” Draco said to his mother. “Why did you do that?”

“Because, my love, I believe that Harry deserves to know everything that is involved in this entire situation,” Narcissa said emphatically, putting her embroidery to the side. “Besides, I will not suffer needlessly. He has made up his mind, I believe, but he needs a push in the right direction to finally make him realise it.”

“Mother, pushing him at this point could only make it worse! He is unstable enough as it is.”

“You will remember yourself, my son,” Narcissa said icily. “You may be the head of this family, but I am still your mother.”

Draco blanched. He’d been yelling at his mother, the woman who’d lied to a crazy madman to make sure he was safe. It was beyond a breach of decorum. It was completely ungrateful and disrespectful. “I apologise, Mother. You are right.” He sighed heavily and fell into the seat that Fleur had vacated. “You are probably correct about Harry as well. I suppose being pushed by Bill and Fleur Weasley will force him to come to terms with things.”

“Yes, my love,” she said gently, leaning forward to take one of his hands. “This is for the best. Besides, why should we suffer from Harry’s anger when we have a house full of Gryffindors to take the brunt of it?”

Draco couldn’t help but smile. His mother was a Slytherin through and through, and everyone forgot that when she was being so affable and polite. “You are devious, Mother.”

“Thank you, Draco.”

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

Harry and Hermione both looked up when the door to the lab opened, revealing an extremely upset Bill and Fleur Weasley with his personal elf, Crimmy. Something about the situation had Harry worried. Especially when Crimmy turned to Hermione. “Mistress Narcissa is requesting Miss Granger’s presence in Master Lucius’s rooms. If you is being so kind to come with Crimmy, miss?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Hermione said. “Let me just put a Stasis spell on this.” She waved her wand over the cauldrons they’d been working on and then practically ran from the lab with Crimmy leading the way.

Harry turned to Bill and Fleur with a wary smile. “What’s going on? You look fit to flay something within an inch of their life. Working with Jacobi becoming too much for you?”

“No, working with Jacobi, Narcissa and Draco is fine,” Bill said. “My problem is with you.”

“What did I do this time?” Harry asked, confused at the wrath of his adopted brother.

“Do you know how long it’s been since Lucius and Draco incurred the debt of honour with you?” Bill asked. “It’s been eight months since the trials. Were you aware that if you and Draco didn’t settle at least if you were going to accept his help or not within a year’s time that the debt’s magic would begin to turn on the owing family?”

“What?” Harry said, shocked beyond words. He moved from the work table where he’d been leaning and moved over to one of the stools to sit down. “I…didn’t. No one told me and the book that Narcissa gave me to look at didn’t mention it.”

“Do you know why zhat is, ‘Arry?” Fleur asked gently, coming over and taking one of his hands in her own. “Because no family ‘as pushed zhe limits seence it was discovered by zhe first families. Zhey decided zhat it was too wrong to—comment dit-il?—push zhe limits again.”

“You’re going to accept Draco’s help, Harry,” Bill said carefully. “I know you enough to know that you can’t allow the Malfoys to suffer so much. Why don’t you just tell Draco that and get all of this over with?”

“I just…I don’t know, alright?” Harry said, feeling so completely defeated. “I don’t want to force Draco into something like this debt is doing. I didn’t speak up for his family to have him trapped into helping me.”

“You don’t really have a choice about them having to help you,” Bill replied. “However, I’ve noticed that Draco’s not complaining about it. He seems to like having you here.”

“’Arry, zhey deserve to know what you have decided,” Fleur added. “I will not force you to tell us, but promise me zhat you will tell Draco tonight.”

“Alright, you win,” Harry said, slumping over and sighing heavily. “I’ll tell him tonight.”

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

Draco waited uncomfortably for Harry to show up for dinner. His mother had decided to go out with Hermione that evening, under a Glamour while her house-elf, Manky, kept watch over his father. She’d said something about giving them some time alone for things to be discussed. Besides, it had been ages since she’d been to eat outside of the Manor. Or so she had used as an excuse to avoid being involved in the conversation that was bound to happen. She’s not supposed to be cowardly. She’s the calm, cool and collected one out of this family. Besides, she loves to have any information that she can use later as gossip.

The heavy oak door to the dining room opened, showing an apprehensive Harry in the doorway. The dark-haired man took a step forward, stopped, looked at Draco, blushed heavily, and then continued to the chair across from him that had become his seat. “Sorry I’m late,” he mumbled.

“Oh, no, you’re fine,” Draco said blithely while his insides churned with nervousness. “The elves will only bring dinner to the table when I call for them, so you’ve not kept anything by coming down a few seconds later than you normally would.”

Harry looked up, his green eyes smiling. “I didn’t know that you babbled, Draco.”

Heat rushed to the surface of his cheeks in embarrassment. “I do not babble. I was merely attempting to be friendly and ease your anxiety.”

Harry smiled finally and it was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds on a winter’s day. “Thank you,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” Draco muttered, calling for dinner to be served.

They ate in silence, neither of them venturing to say anything to ease the tension. After the meat course had been taken away by the kitchen elves and dessert—treacle tart, Harry’s favourite—was served, his companion finally spoke again.

“Why didn’t you tell me that there was a time frame connected with the acceptance of the debt’s terms, Draco?”

“Yes, well, I knew that you were already feeling stressed over the very existence of the debt, Harry. I didn’t want to add to it.”

“Thank you for thinking about me, but you failed to mention that if I didn’t accept the debt within a year that the magic would turn against you and your mother. I would have hoped that in the last few weeks that you would have recognised that I’m fond of you and your mother.”

“It hadn’t escaped my notice,” Draco replied. Not that fond is okay with me. I now want more than just your regard, you stupid Gryffindor.

“Bill and Fleur told me today in the lab and I promised Fleur that I would tell you what my decision was.”

So, Mother was right. He was just trying to process it himself before he spoke to me. Pushing Weasley to do our dirty work was the right thing to do. “And what is the conclusion that you’ve come to?” he asked cautiously.

“I will accept your help to find an acceptable spouse, I suppose,” Harry said as if he was trying to chew rocks and not a sweet confection. “Although, I think it’ll be hard for us to find someone who is going to be okay with all of our familial connections.”

“And if that should prove the case, then what?” Draco asked, putting his dessert fork on the porcelain plate that held his untouched dessert.

“Then, I suppose you’re stuck with me,” Harry said calmly as he stuffed the rest of the treacle tart into his mouth and swallowed quickly. “I’m going to go to bed early, if you don’t mind. Good night, Draco.”

“Good night, Harry,” Draco said, watching as the other man left the dining room with a confident swagger. When he was alone, his face broke out into a beatific smile and his heart soared in his chest. Nothing could be better at this moment. Nothing.

TBC

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Here But For the Grace of Merlin