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Soldier's Welcome	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 25565 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter; that belongs to J. K. Rowling. I am making no money from this fic.

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Chapter
Twenty-Seven�Christmas

�� Harry
scowled at the ceiling in the bedroom that Draco and Narcissa had given him.
His neck hurt from trying to find some comfortable position on the pillow. He
reckoned that most people would consider it just fluffy enough, but when you�d
been used to sleeping on hard ground and inside a cupboard in the past, it was
difficult to feel like you were sinking into feathers.

�� He was
thinking about the party, and the way that Draco had avoided his eyes after it,
and the way he called him �Potter� with almost a sneer in his voice, as if he
was still remembering the times he had said it at Hogwarts.

�� He probably is, Harry thought, his
fingers digging into the pillow until he thought he�d rip the cloth. A few months of friendship can�t overcome
seven years of hating each other.

�� He didn�t
want Draco to call him that.

�� But if he
told him that, then Draco would probably ask why and want some detailed and
complex argument, crystalline with logic, the kind that he was fond of using
when he thought Harry was being stupid. And Harry didn�t have one of those. He
just knew that he didn�t like the way Draco said his last name.

�� Harry
sighed and turned his head to the right, closing his eyes. He began counting
his breaths, which sometimes helped him fall asleep. But his mind touched on a
treacherous thought first: that it was probably a good day he was going to the
Burrow for Christmas Eve through Boxing Day. It would give him and Draco some
much-needed time away from each other.

�� I wish I could trust that if I told him I
don�t like the way he says my name, that would be enough to make him stop.

*

�� Draco,
darling, you are positively petulant. What�s
wrong?�

�� Draco
blinked and sat up straight in his chair. He�d had a book spread on his lap for
the last half-hour, but he hadn�t read any of it. Surely, though, his mother
couldn�t know that. He had been in the library, and she had been in the drawing
room writing a letter to his father in Azkaban.

�� Nothing�s
wrong,� he said, and then tried to fix a look of cool and yet sympathetic
interest on his face. It was the only sort of expression that would make his
mother talk about what Draco knew must be a trial for her. �Have you owled
Father? I hope that they�re taking proper care of him there, and not trying to
feed him that filthy gruel a house-elf couldn�t survive on.�

�� I have
some hope of better treatment for him, now that I�ve given them the latest
bribe.� Narcissa seated herself on the chair nearest the door. Today she wore
deep blue robes that made her eyes look like sapphires. Draco wondered
wistfully why he hadn�t inherited her genius for looking like that in dark
colors, instead of looking washed-out. �But you can�t distract me, Draco. Even
if I thought you had been studying,
I�ve heard the sighs at mealtimes and the way you exploded at Daffy yesterday
for laying his finger on your plate as he put it down. The poor thing was still
ironing his ears this morning. What�s wrong?�

�� Draco
glared at his book. It was humiliating to have his mother make him confess his
feelings as if he was still a child, but it would be more humiliating still to
lie when she would know perfectly well that he was lying. �Potter,� he
muttered.

�� Did he say
something to you before he left?� Narcissa frowned and leaned back in her
chair. The diamond earrings that hung to her shoulders swayed back and forth
with slight tinkling noises. Draco had known many pure-blood women who would
have looked ridiculous wearing them. Once again, his mother defied the laws of
nature. �I must say, I had thought you were getting on better in the last few
days. He had more semblance of manners.�

�� Draco
smiled in spite of himself. That would matter
to his mother. �It�s not that,� he said. �It�s�strained and tense between us,
and every time I try to figure out some way that I can breathe the air more
easily, he shuts me down. I�ve tried to
ask the questions I need to ask, but he won�t let me ask them. He denies so
effectively that it�s as if he�s anticipated all my questions beforehand.�

�� Narcissa
raised her eyebrows, but she was perfectly sensitive to Draco�s tone, and she
would know from it that he would have specified those questions and the source
of strain if he wanted her to know what they were. She nodded. �Can you not
simply press the inquiry in spite of his denials? Have you tried Veritaserum?�

�� Draco
snorted, then had to work to hold back his laughter. Meanwhile, his mother more
and more resembled a statue with a slight glazing of ice, so Draco hastened to
clear his throat and explain. �He�d think that was a betrayal, Mother. I�d
break his trust by doing something like that.�

�� There are
variants that are milder, of late,� Narcissa said thoughtfully. �I heard the
names of some mentioned at the Abranes� party. I didn�t make many notes of
suppliers, as we were after rather different prey, but I remember them. We
could attempt to acquire them, and then he need never know that he had been
under the potion. The new variants compel only some partial truths and don�t
produce that wretched mental state that�s such a telltale.�

�� Draco took
a deep breath. �I appreciate the offer, Mother,� he said. �But I don�t think
that he would forgive me if he found out about that, either. And I can�t
promise that I would be able to keep it from him forever.�

�� Narcissa
opened her mouth slowly. She turned the motion into a yawn, but Draco knew what
the expression meant, and stored the memory of it away as consolation against
what she had just realized. She�d been startled. He had taken her aback. He did
that so rarely, especially now that he was grown-up and couldn�t startle her by
getting into childish messes, that he would note the date.

�� This is
far more serious than I realized,� Narcissa breathed. �If you�re adopting his
moral standards, Draco, you aren�t just thinking about friendship.�

�� Could we
put this aside for now?� Draco shut his book and stood up, keeping his eyes
carefully averted from his mother�s face.

�� Ah,
Draco.� Narcissa had a smile in her voice, which Draco would have objected to,
except that he thought he had embarrassed himself quite enough for one day.
�I�ve been through the same thing myself, though I was younger than you were.
Of course.�

�� Draco
strode out of the library and up to his room. The house was quiet, of course.
It always had been, even when his father was living here. Lucius wasn�t the
sort to conduct noisy Potions experiments or crash his broom through a plate
glass window, and his Dark Arts experiments that might go wrong were always
conducted in the most secure of laboratories.

�� There was
no reason for the silence to feel wrong,
as though someone was missing who should have belonged there.

*

�� Come on,
Harry!�

�� Harry ran
gratefully out into the cold, carrying his broom, behind Ron. His new Weasley
jumper embraced him warmly, and he smiled as he watched his breath form in
front of his face. A little practice Quidditch was just what he�d needed. It
seemed as though no one really knew what to do with themselves on Christmas Day
once they�d exchanged their presents and eaten. The empty chair at the table
didn�t help.

�� Besides,
Ginny had given him several meaningful glances and made a point of announcing
loudly that she was going up to her room after the meal. Harry didn�t want any
part of that right now.

�� It�s not that I hate her, he thought, as
he kicked off from the ground and felt the spiraling wind envelop him. Ron was
already hovering near the edge of the Quidditch pitch that George had built
last year with the money that was beginning to come in through Weasleys� Wizard
Wheezes. George had admitted that he didn�t know what to do with all the
Galleons, since he couldn�t keep every single one for re-investment in the
shop, and so he might as well make his family comfortable.

�� I don�t hate her, Harry thought again,
as Ron tossed a Quaffle at him and Harry caught it, then lobbed it back at him.
It�s just that she thinks one way about
things and I think another way, and we�re not ever going to come to an agreement.

�� He and Ron
flew for a long time, taking opposite sides and trying to toss the Quaffle
through each other�s goals, and then competing in dives. Hermione came out to
watch before the end, clapping her hands when Ron managed to jerk out of a
plunge just in time�though he went so low his boots plowed trails in the
snow�and looking more relaxed than Harry had seen her since the start of Auror
training.

�� I think this has been good for them, at
least. Harry twisted to get out of the way of Ron�s broom, watching
Hermione smile and cheer from the corner of his eye. Her cheeks were red from
the cold, and he thought that she�d forgotten to cast her Warming Charm, which
might be a good sign. It wasn�t usual for Hermione to get so caught up in a
game that she called foolish and silly. They
have some time to relate to each other and not think about homework.

�� On the
other hand, he�d heard them arguing the other night. Harry hadn�t tried to
listen in�why would he want to?�but he�d been sure the argument hadn�t lasted
long. There was that.

�� When they landed,
Hermione ran up and kissed Ron on the lips. Harry watched for a moment before
he looked away, jealousy twisting his stomach. I wish I had someone who would care for me that way, who would keep
going with me against all the odds.

�� But then he
thought about Ginny again, and snorted, shaking his head. Yeah, like that would work. He was probably better
off waiting until he was through the Auror program and knew both himself and
anyone else who would want to date him a little better.

�� Are you
all right, Harry?� Hermione had come up beside him and was studying him with an
anxious expression.

�� Harry told
himself that neither of his best friends had any reason to think he was less
than deliriously blissful to be with them. He hadn�t told them he�d come from
Malfoy Manor because�well, because. He dredged up a smile and said, �Of course.
Although I still don�t understand how to work the gift you got me.�

�� There was a
time last year when Hermione would have taken offense if he said something like
that. Now, she looked absolutely thrilled
at being asked to explain. Harry had asked partially to give her something
to say, and he listened contentedly enough as she dragged him inside the house
and showed him the book.

�� It was a
plain, small book, with a leather cover. Harry had thought at first it was
another homework organizer like the ones she�d got them for Christmas at
Hogwarts one year. But when he opened it, the pages were blank and remained
stubbornly blank no matter what spell he cast. When he tried to write on them,
the ink drained into the parchment. That reminded him of Tom Riddle�s diary,
which made him queasy, and Harry had decided not to write any more in it until
Hermione could show him what to do.

�� Look,�
Hermione said importantly. She tapped the front of the book twice with her
wand, and added, �I used the same principle that�s behind the Marauder�s Map.
You have to tap it, twice, and speak a specific phrase, or it�s not going to
work. I thought I included that phrase on the paper with the gift, but I
wouldn�t be surprised if someone tore
it off in his haste to get to the gift.� She gave Harry a pointed look.

�� Harry
flushed, but compensated for it by rolling his eyes. �Forgive me for wanting to
see what it was,� he muttered. He didn�t say, even though it was true, that he
had caused such a fuss with the wrapping and the noise as he ripped into it
because he wanted everyone�s eyes focused on him. That way, Ginny wouldn�t get
a chance to start a private conversation with him under cover of everyone
else�s chattering and excitement.

�� I will,�
Hermione said magnificently, �if you just attend to what I�m showing you, so I
don�t have to show you more than once.� Ron leaned over Harry�s shoulder to
watch, since he�d got the same kind of thing, though Harry thought Hermione had
already showed him how to work his. �The two wand taps, like I said. And then, I am going to make it through the Auror
program.� She looked at Harry out of the corner of her eye.

�� Harry
refused to give her a reaction the way she wanted, but just looked interested.
A moment later, he didn�t have to pretend to be interested, as the letters My Notes appeared on the front of the
book. Hermione flipped it open and touched her wand to the first page. �Think
about one of the subjects we�ve studied,� she said.

�� Er,� Harry
said. �All right. Defensive and Offensive.�

�� Words began
to race across the first page. Harry took a step back, thinking about Tom
Riddle again, and then realized that he knew that writing. It was his. He leaned in, uneasily fascinated,
and studied the lines.

�� Duel in pairs�the Ministry makes D. Arts
illegal because�he�s talking too fast�

�� As you can
see,� Hermione said, �it comes up with the notes for that subject you�ve
studied. All of them, no matter where the notes are now. It interacts with your
thoughts and your memories. You remember a lot more than you realize. It�s just
that the memories get stored in parts of the brain where they�re not recalled
easily.� She gave a modest little shrug as Harry stared at her. �It seemed
simple enough. I was studying Memory Charms in my free time��

�� What
time?� Harry asked, cupping his hand around his ear, but he knew that Hermione
would always make free time to study something if she was really interested in
it.

�� And it
just seemed like it would work. After all, this is parchment and words, and so
are the notes you take. All parchment and all words are in some sense
connected.� Hermione looked at the book with a little frown. �I don�t think it
would work for notes that you�d scribbled on Muggle paper, though. That isn�t
the same as parchment.�

�� Hermione,
you�re brilliant,� Harry said,
because he wasn�t sure what else to say, and because it was a wonderful gift, and because he liked seeing her turn
Weasley-red.

�� Ron said
the same thing, but in a reverent whisper that made Harry get out of the way
before he could be caught between them. Then they were kissing again, with
plenty of loud smacking sounds, and Harry stepped back and told himself to stop
feeling jealousy. He used to almost never feel it, except over Ginny when she
was dating Dean, and suddenly it seemed that it was braiding up his insides
every time he turned around.

�� You have no right to feel it. And you don�t
want to feel it over Ron and Hermione.
You�re not interested in either of them. Or Ginny either, for that matter.

�� A slippery,
treacherous thought whispered and hissed to him that it knew who he was
interested in.

�� Shut up, Harry told himself, and went to
admire his Christmas presents again.

*

�� Draco
glanced up at the golden and pearl clock that hung over the fireplace. Potter
wasn�t late, not yet, and Draco didn�t want to remember that he�d looked at the
clock thirty times in the last ten minutes.

�� He got up
to take some healthy exercise instead, which was not pacing in front of the fireplace. Not at all. Only people
jealous of his grace and beauty would say that.

�� The green
flames flared up in the hearth, and Draco could see a spinning figure appear in
them. He relaxed, then stepped out of the way. He had seen Potter travel by
Floo before, and he knew what was likely to happen when he did.

�� Sure
enough, Potter staggered out in a rain of soot and sagged to his knees on the
carpet, coughing. When he stood up again, Draco tried to conceal a wince, and
suspected he didn�t succeed from the wry way Potter looked at him. He was dripping
more soot all over the floor. Of course, the house-elves would soon take care
of that, but it was the principle of the thing.

�� Oh, yeah,�
Potter said, and pushed something into Draco�s hands. �I was even more
off-balance than usual, carrying that thing.�
He nodded to the box and then started stamping more ashes off his boots as if
they were snow.

�� Draco
looked down, opening his mouth to make a scathing retort about how Potter was
blaming innocent inanimate objects for his own clumsiness. But he shut his
mouth and swallowed when he realized that the box was (badly) wrapped in green
paper with small silver snakes on it. He looked up into Potter�s face.

�� Where did
you get this?� he whispered.

�� Potter
laughed at him. �That would be telling, wouldn�t it, when you haven�t even
opened it yet?� He folded his arms and grinned. His face was radiant with
delight, and Draco found it as hard to look away from as it had been to look
away from the box a moment before. �Just open it already. It�s your Christmas
present. And if you mean, where did I get the paper, I just saw it and bought
it. I thought it�d be something you�d like.�

�� Draco shook
his head. His hands were shaking and his heart felt too large against his ribs
as he tore the paper off.

�� Inside was
a plain wooden box without markings that didn�t tell Draco anything. He tried
to lift the top, and then realized it was tied down. With an impatient motion,
he drew his wand and cast a quick Diffindo
that sliced the string off.

�� I see that
you don�t forget that you�re a wizard,
not for one bloody second,� Potter muttered.

�� Draco had
no time for the git�s irrational resentment right now. He tipped the lid of the
box back and peered inside, wondering for a moment why he was holding his
breath. It was a Christmas present, for Merlin�s sake, not something really
important and fascinating, like the key to the Nihil mystery.

�� Inside, a
tiny, perfect dog turned its head to regard him, then stood up on its paws and
yawned to let him know that it was awaiting his attention.

�� It was smaller
than Draco had known a dog could be, even the miniature Crups that Draco had
sometimes seen in the handbags of wealthy witches as they paraded through
Diagon Alley. It had pointed ears and a dangerous-looking pointed muzzle, and
it looked as if it was made of pure silver. Logically, Draco knew that its coat
must be grey, because dogs didn�t come in silver, but it looked that way. It
even shimmered wetly like water when Draco turned the box back and forth.

�� It had
fangs so sharp and white that Draco knew they would pierce someone�s skin and
not cause any pain immediately, although they would certainly slice skin from
bone. (Aunt Bellatrix had had a set of knives like that. He was trying not to
think about them). And no ordinary dog had a tail like a scorpion�s. Maybe it
could have a silver coat after all.

�� He looked
up at Potter, and his expression must have been more hostile than he meant it
to be, because Potter hastily began a fumbling explanation.

�� I know
that it looks odd, but you�ve been the target of some of Nihil�s magic, and I
can�t be there all the time, and the other trainees might or might not try to
protect you, and you�re alone in your rooms, and you could use another friend. I
wouldn�t even have bought one, but the breeder saw me in Quality Quidditch
Supplies and insisted that I take one because, he said, it would be good
publicity for his business to have the Chosen One carrying it around, and
they�re bred for personal defense��

�� Draco held
up a hand to stop him. He would have difficulty speaking if he tried. The quiet
welling up in his throat would spill out of his mouth and envelop Potter. And
maybe it would tell him too much.

�� You could use another friend.

�� That
statement of Potter�s intent in buying the gift was nearly more precious than
the gift itself.

�� Thank
you,� he said at last, and held out his hand to the dog. It sniffed him, and
then consented to be scooped up and placed on Draco�s shoulder. Draco had
already seen that its paws and nails were more like a cat�s, made for clinging
and climbing. It stepped so delicately that it didn�t cut the skin, however,
and sat as quietly next to his ear as the ornament made of silver and diamonds it
looked like. There were some who would take it for that, and that would be an
advantage. Draco took a deep breath and turned to face Potter again.

�� How can I
thank you?� he asked. �I didn�t get you a gift.�

�� Potter
shrugged. He looked embarrassed now, his eyes darting away from Draco�s. Draco
hated to see it. He wanted to shake the prat and tell him that he had as much
reason to stand up and be proud as anyone else. �You don�t have to thank me,�
he muttered. �It�s just�it�s just something I wanted to do.� He looked up
half-defiantly. �You need more gifts in your life.�

�� Draco shook
his head. His mouth was dry now, although he had the words to speak. The dog
cuddled next to his cheek, cool and unmoving. Elegant. The kind of gift he had
never thought Potter would choose. �But it�s Christmas, and I�ve got nothing
for you. At least tell me what you want, even though it�s not going to be a
surprise.�

�� He couldn�t
explain the urgency that beat like sunstroke in his head. I have to give him something. I want to give him something. I want to
give him something so badly that I have to.

*

�� Harry
looked at Draco, and was content. The dog fit as well with him as Harry had
thought it would when he�d first seen the little silver thing. And if Draco had
ever had a pet, Harry didn�t think it had left any mark on him. He deserved to
have one. Harry would have given the world for an animal, when he was living at
the Dursleys�, and he thought Draco�s life right now was probably as hard as
that.

�� Draco.

�� And then
something broke in Harry, and he decided there was a gift that he would ask for
after all. He flung up his head. Draco blinked at him and took a step back, but
remained attentive, his chin turned slightly to the side.

�� I want you
to call me by my first name,� Harry said harshly. �You shove me away with my
last name long after I started calling you by your first. Why is that? It makes
me feel like�like we�re not really friends, like you just want me to be Potter
the way you did when we were in Hogwarts. Call me by my first name.�

�� Draco�s
eyes were very wide when he finished, and the silver dog bared its teeth at
Harry. Harry was sorry a moment later. He�d spoken honestly, but what if Draco
didn�t want to? Then Harry was like everyone else who kept shoving at Draco,
trying to make him into someone he didn�t want to be.

�� He was just
opening his mouth to apologize when Draco�s lips firmed and he nodded. He
reached out and clasped Harry�s wrist. His fingers pressed cold and smooth
against Harry�s warm skin, and that was like he silver dog, too.

�� Harry,� he
whispered.

�� Harry
shivered. The words seemed to open a trap beneath him, so that he fell down and
down and landed at the bottom of a pit with reality written on the walls.

�� At the
sound of his name from Draco�s lips, he could no longer hide from what�and who�he
wanted.

�� Even though
he had not the slightest idea of what to do about it.

*

�� hieisdragoness18:
Thank you!

�� qwerty: In
a way, Harry should know who the dark-haired woman is, but needless to say, he
doesn�t yet.

�� SP777: I�m
glad you liked the visuals.

�� And yes,
the stories will show them advancing to the age of 22.

�� tamikolee:
You are very close! Impressively close. But that is not the right explanation
for why the number of missing people is not high.

�� MewMew2:
Thanks!

�� Dragons
Breath: You get a mild example of it this chapter!

�� callistianstar:
Harry and Draco have jumped to conclusions by just assuming that Nihil is a
man. There is no reason that it couldn�t be a woman.

�� Anon: Thank
you! And thanks for catching that typo.

�� Tree802:
Thank you!

�� Thrnbrooke:
Thanks!

�� Mr Spears:
Thank you.

�� inesistente:
Sorry, but neither of them is to that stage yet.
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