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Living Again	By : FelicityGemfiar Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 2092 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Disclaimer: All characters,
names, associations, and the world of Hogwarts belong to J.K. Rowling and her
corporate people. This is purely for entertainment purposes with no revenue
attempting to be generated.

Chapter
1�The Story
Begins�

�To Mister Harry Potter,� the emerald green
ink still seemed to gleam with that pre-sanded, just-written shine despite the
perhaps miles the cream-coloured envelope travelled to end up on his tabletop.
Or, more like his newspaper-photo-document ridden excuse for a surface. Harry
stared over his steaming cup of milk-less tea, past his jam-less toast at the
envelope sitting atop today�s issue of The
Daily Prophet. An issue that simply exemplified his increasing need of a
stress-free holiday. But he couldn�t think about that now; he needed to think
about getting to the nearest market and restocking on the essentials. Like
milk, and jam�

Harry took a few more grimacing sips of the
bitter tea, and finally made the decision to open the envelope.

The tinkering of his dirty china brought
his hovering hand to a halt. Harry smiled, a fleeting expression, before
getting up to visit his wardrobe. The black trousers, white dress shirt and
black robes enhanced the raven beauty of his hair and deepened the green depths
of his eyes. He might have noticed if his mirror wasn�t plastered with more
photos and documents, but, as it was, he didn�t really care. Work was work, and
a semi-formal look was imperative for full public cooperation. He managed to
get the cherry oak doors of the wardrobe closed after a minute or so of
pushing, and followed the corridor back to the staircase. The portraits along
the wall of the stair each made small comments of approval that Harry never
seemed to hear, yet the tradition was never broken despite his silence.

Hermione greeted him from the table when
Harry returned to the kitchen.

�You should hire a maid for this place,
Harry, really. Or even better, a caretaker since you seem unable to do a thing for yourself.� A frown tinged her
rosy lips as she sat at the table shooting cleaning spells all over the
kitchen.

�If I had time, I would, �Mione,� Harry
reminded her for the millionth time, �But, I�ve barely a spare moment to
shower.� He dodged the animated broom and wash bucket as he made his way to the
table.

Hermione caught a whiff of his stench when
he sat down. �Really, Harry! How can you live like this?�

�You know it�s not how I want to live. It�s
this case, it keeps me from myself.�

�You can�t use that excuse forever, you
know. It�s what you say every time a new case is passed your way,� she gave him
a hard stare as she subconsciously smoothed the skirt of her knitted bliaut. �If
you don�t manage to call a service today, I will,� she continued, her voice
firm.

�Thanks, �Mione.� Harry smiled at her before
going back to reviewing the documents on the table.

Hermione followed his gaze and caught a
glimpse of The Daily Prophet.
Carefully, she extracted it from beneath a few other papers and the plate of
abandoned toast.

�Did you read the article about the WP
officer that nearly killed the criminal he was sent to arrest? Rather chilling,
really, to have someone on the force without strong self-control,� she glanced
at him before looking for the article. �What�s being done about it?� She
started reading it again.

He hesitated before answering her,
�Hermione, that article is about me,� Harry stated flatly.

�Yes, but he should at least be susp�what??� The Prophet fluttered to the floor as she stared at him in disbelief.
Harry didn�t notice her reaction.

�I�m on holiday �indefinitely,� or at least
until I can pass some stupid Emotional something-or-other Test.� Turbulent
green eyes turned to shocked brown. �Don�t look at me like that.�

Hermione�s mouth hung open for another
fraction of a second before she was able to gain her motor functions again.
�Harry�� Concern, pity, and anger smacked him all at once while she continued
to stare at him.

Light from the windows trickled in to
illuminate the dust particles floating between them. Hermione reached for his hand,
but he pulled away.

His gaze turned a bit distant, �I�m so
lost, �Mione,� he said breathlessly, �so lost I don�t think I can find my way
back.� How did this happen? When was my
control left behind? Harry focused on his hands; hands that less than twenty-four
hours before had been around someone�s neck, sucking the life out of that
precious body.

Hermione said nothing. Slowly she stood and
pulled him to his feet. She tugged him behind her, back up the stairs and down
the corridor to the room he kept as hers. Pushing him in before her, she shut
the door and walked to the cabinets on the right wall. Methodically,
mechanically, she pulled herbs and ingredients from their places beginning to
brew a potion.

In a bid to keep his demons at bay, Harry
forced images, words, actions, lists, people, places, appointments and meetings
all to the forefront of his mind as he stood in the middle of the photo-less
and document-less room. None of his criminal mapping spilled into this space as
it filled every cranny of the rest of the house. This peace in this room just
made the chaos in his mind even more pronounced.

�Harry, do you even know you�re talking?�
Hermione�s voice floated to him, as if from another dimension, and he turned to
her.

A full minute passed, he staring at the
back of her head in astonishment while she continued to brew on the
dresser-top. �No, I didn�t realize�� And he drifted back to mumbling about his
lists and appointments, all of his open cases, some of his closed ones.

Hermione recognized several of them, mostly
the ones that brought him even greater prestige�alongside more and more time
devouring cases. No one at the Ministry probably noticed what all these cases
were doing to him. No, they probably just liked the positive press and the support
his successes brought their regime.

Harry�s thoughts turned from reviewing his
current cases and his business agenda. He could still hear the whispering
screams and the feather-light caresses as the woman attempted to claw him off
the man between his hands. The glaze that speared through his vision then
finally drew back when that flash of green light and evil laughter dissipated.
And then the vision of a bluish-purple man having the life choked out of him
threw itself into his brain. He was killing an innocent�

�Here, drink this.� Hermione was behind
him, holding out a fogging cup of something red� and probably disgusting. No
potion actually tasted good.

He took it silently, put the cool ceramic
surface to his lips and swallowed.

Hermione caught him before he collapsed on
the floor, struggling with his weight. Slowly, and rather awkwardly, she pulled
him to the bed and tossed him in a heap on top of the duvet. His legs hung
limply over the side and his arms spread out like he was trying to land a plane.
She reached out to brush the fringe out of his face, and removed his
spectacles. The light caught on the small diamond ring on her finger. Tears
gathered in her eyes, and for the first time in six years, Hermione cried.

* *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * *

�Are you certain inviting Potter was a good
idea?� Montague lounged on the silk duvet cover, watching the light play on his
partner�s flawless skin. �I�ve heard rumours the idiot�s gone mad.�

Draco completely ignored the boy on his bed.
He pulled on a black knit shirt before covering it with starched black robes.
Several hours of errands and arrangements stood before him this day and he
didn�t want to start off in a foul mood because his �lover� couldn�t keep his
disgusting mouth shut. He moved toward the door.

�This is what I�m talking about, Draco�your
complete lack of attention to me. I�m beginning to resent it.�

Draco slammed the door in his face and
continued down the hall. Not a moment passed before he could hear it open again
and the boy begin to prattle away.

Montague stormed after him, ��you ignore
me. Answer my questions in grunts and growls� I never see anything but a scowl
on your face��

�Stop your loathsome tongue before I lose
all my patience, boy. We have an arrangement, and that arrangement we shall
keep until it is no longer profitable for either of us. Is that clear?� Draco�s
cold grey eyes seemed to penetrate Montague�s mind, for his face fell and his
tirade ceased, but only for a second.

�How can you say that to my face? The
arrangement is no longer valid, things have changed��

�Yes,� he interrupted again. �They�ve
changed. And you will not speak another word to me about this. The arrangement
stays. We are through discussing it.� He turned and dismissed him. �You�re
responsible to book entertainment, Montague. Don�t disappoint me again.�
Platinum hair disappeared down the stairs, but Montague stared after him for
long silent moments.

�Garik!� The name bounced off the marble
walls and punched Montague�s rigid body with each resounding echo.

The House Elf appeared seemingly from the
glass vase at the end of the corridor. �Yes, Mr. Boy?�

Montague flinched over the title Malfoy
commanded all his servants to use for him. It was humiliating. �Get a decanter
of brandy and a tumbler in my quarters. Now.� With as much dignity as he could
muster, Montague strolled resolutely back to his room and sat on the green and
silver chaise.

In charge of entertainment. He was always
in charge of entertainment: from Draco�s physical entertainer, to the fa�ade
put on to the press for entertainment, to his previous employment as an
eclectic entertainer�

�Fucking Bastard!� The expletive escaped
his lips before he could stop it. Malfoy did it purposefully, of course,
reminding him of his past and where he�d still be if it were not for his
generosity. Bastard. Because of his past, Montague was beneath the Great Draco
Malfoy. As if the mere association with the possibility of prostitution tainted
him.

But it wasn�t about the possibility, was
it? Montague smiled to himself when Garik entered the spacious chamber with the
requested items and something else.

�Mr Boy,� another flinch, �Master Malfoy
has given Garik this to pass. Master Malfoy says it will help.� His bulging
yellow eyes crushed any possibility of Garik being cute.

Montague snatched the booklet from the
elf�s hands. �Now, Garik, go away,� and he threw it in the table. Filling his
tumbler to the brim, Montague downed it in one swallow.

No. It wasn�t about the possibility.

* *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * *

She didn�t know how long she sat at the
table weeping, only knew it was a long while because her tea had gone ice cold.
She had a headache and her hands were trembling, but, she�d spilled all her
tears; later she would feel better.

The kitchen looked clean, despite Harry�s
masses of papers here and there. And there, too, and over there, and well,
everywhere. Getting up from the table, Hermione looked at the papers, read
their titles and recalled some of the photographs from memory. She smiled. It
seemed he never put anything away.

Hermione was able to pack up most
everything in the kitchen, putting the papers in files that she levitated
behind her, leaving the envelope and plate of toast on the table. Methodically
and efficiently, she went though each room in the house, putting away the cases
that were closed, cases that were solved. In the end, only three cases were
open, and with all her improvements, she was able to clean the surfaces of and
relocated the criminal mapping to the spacious mahogany office. The filing
cabinets fit neatly into the corner.

With Harry�s work out of the way and safe,
Hermione took out the Floo-a-logue Lavender Pages and searched for a reputable
cleaning service. Five maids were scheduled to arrive in ten minutes to clean
for the remaining hour of the work-day, and �three would come once every two
weeks to maintain the house.� Hermione penned a note and stuck it on the fridge
with all Harry�s crazy magnets.

Preparing another cup of tea, Hermione
searched the cupboards for biscuits and found a package to expire next month.

�At least you haven�t become a barbarian,
Harry; you have digestives,� she mused.

She sat at the table, sipping tea and
nibbling on plain finger-shaped digestives until the floo fire spit green,
rattling the dirty china, and five witches removed themselves from the
fireplace. Hermione welcomed them, gave them instructions, and supervised the
cleaning of the five ladies. Spells fired non-stop for that last hour throughout
Harry�s home.

�Thank you for coming on such short
notice,� Hermione waved the witches off and watched as each took her leave of
the place.

As soon as the last disappeared in a burst
of green flame, Hermione wearily climbed the steps to check on Harry one last
time before leaving. He lay sprawled on the bed, his face angelic in peaceful
repose despite his drug induced state. Or, more likely, Hermione reasoned, because of the potions. She brushed
Harry�s bangs away again, noticing how much fainter the scar had become since
the defeat of Voldemort, and sighed. She really needed to get a grip on
herself.

Going back downstairs, Hermione started
toward the fireplace when the envelope on the table caught her attention. With
practiced movements and a ritual of long-time habit, she tore at the seal and
spilled the contents into her left hand; she always answered Harry�s
correspondence. The thick cream-coloured note cards slid heavily onto her palm.

�Mister
Harry
Potter,

You are cordially invited to

Malfoy Manor

to attend the Fifth Annual

All Hallows Night

Celebration on the evening of the

31^st of October, Halloween

With this year�s theme of Creative
Darkness,

we ask that you
arrive in
costume, a dark imaginative creation of your own.

RSVP by owl no later than the 20^th of
October.�

The twentieth was tomorrow, and just when did this letter arrive?
Hermione wondered. On the enclosed response note card, Hermione ticked the
�yes� box with �0� guests, to force him
to mingle, she thought, and �1� Halibut dinner. Sealing the response away,
she found Hedwig out back and sent the reply off. �It will do him some good,
getting away from the office.�

Her work here finally complete, Hermione
apparated home.

* *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * *

�No one knows about his secret, do they?�
Montague slurred as he spoke to a stuffed powder-blue rabbit he usually hid
under the bed. �No one but me, because I saw him and tried to help. Tried to
help but they wouldn�t let me. I saw
it happen,� he gulped down another tumbler of the expensive brandy and nodded
to the bunny.

�Yes, I did. I saw it happen and then he
tricked me. Tricked me, dammit! Then I couldn�t tell anyone, I can only tell
you,� another glass drained. �Because you aren�t alive, Mister Tithers, you�re
not real. That�s why.�

He laughed and half of the brown liquid
spilled on his Egyptian cotton trousers. �I don�t know why I�m talking to you,
okay? I have to talk to someone, though. Or, in your case, something.� Montague laughed again.

�Oh, shut up.� He smacked the stuffed
animal and sent it flying off the bed. Too lazy to hide the toy like he usually
did, Montague lay back on the soft pillows and closed his eyes. Minutes later,
he was asleep.
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Living Again