Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Starfall	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 32486 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 26
- 27
- 28
Thank you again for all the reviews!
Chapter Twenty-Seven--Standing Before the Gates
            "We need to discuss this," said Kingsley's voice for approximately the sixth time.
            Harry leaned back in his chair. He had answered the firecall when it came, but he saw no reason to be uncomfortable, kneeling down on the hearth to discuss something that had already, as far as he was concerned, been discussed. "I don't see why," he said calmly. "My resignation letter was clear, wasn't it?"
            "You're resigning from the Aurors." Kingsley somehow made it sound like it was halfway between a question and a statement. Not that it mattered, because he wouldn't let either one of them be true.
            Harry stretched his arms and gave him a sweet smile. "That's right."
            "Why?"
            Harry leaned in. "Because I realized it wasn't making me happy," he said. "Because I realized I depended on it too much, and I didn't want it to become a crutch. Because I realized what I care about is children, and spending time with them, and being an Auror hardly ever let me see children except when they were dead or bleeding. Because you put me on a week's holiday and I feel like I've got more accomplished in that week than I ever did in the year before that."
            Kingsley's mouth was a little open by the end of that speech, but he clapped it shut a second later and gave Harry a stern look. "That week's holiday was meant to make you think about some things."
            Harry had to smile, and he wondered how Kingsley didn't see the humor inherent in his own words. "It worked."
            "Not--not in that way." Kingsley was shaking his head, speaking with difficulty, as though he couldn't believe that Harry didn't see things from the exact same perspective. "You're one of our best Aurors, Harry. We can't lose you."
            Harry shrugged. "One of your best Aurors who had a death wish and was always getting injured. I think that I've been more of a liability than a benefit to the Auror Department lately. This solves that problem."
            "Never more of a liability than a benefit." Kingsley was speaking earnestly now, his hand clutching something that might be the edge of the hearth. "Harry, what incentives do you need to come back? I believe that you're fully healthy now, and you could go back to fieldwork if that's what you want. Or--"
            "Stop," Harry said quietly, and for a miracle, Kingsley did. "Don't embarrass yourself. You were right the first time, that I was spending too much time obsessing over my job and not enough time resting. I'd hate to see you undercut that concern for me and get me angry at you because you're concerned about effects on the Auror Department that haven't even started yet, and might never do so. You were right. Doesn't that matter?"
            Kingsley sat back on his heels and regarded him unhappily. Harry was glad for the real serenity he could return that look with, instead of the false kind he would have had to use even a few days ago.
            He'd been dying to return to his Auror job, until he realized that he wasn't. What he was dying for was something to do. He hadn't enjoyed the thought of the holiday when he thought it would be all sitting around and staring at the walls.
            Once he had realized he could do something else, he'd never wanted the holiday to end.
            "It matters," said Kingsley at last, slow and reluctant. "And if this is the best thing for you, Harry, then of course that's what you should do. No one could say that you haven't shed enough blood for your world or haven't fought hard enough for what you believe in."
            "But," Harry prompted, when Kingsley hesitated at last.
            "This is going to be a public relations disaster." Kingsley shook his head. "There are already articles brewing hinting that your holiday was actually a forced retirement because of some rivalry between you and other Aurors, or jealousy on my part because of the attention from the papers. Now I'll be known as the one who chased you away from the Department."
            Harry laughed. "I'll need publicity for my business anyway. If you want, I'll give an interview firmly stating that it was no such thing. They might not believe it," he added, cutting off the next objection he knew Kingsley would use, "but there's always someone who won't believe anything I say. I can at least put my voice out there."
            "Thank you, Harry." Kingsley sighed moodily and spent one more moment scrutinizing him. "Do you plan to try and reverse the curse that made you infertile? I know the Healers said that that combination of hexes couldn't be replicated, but..."
            Harry shook his head firmly. "I know it can't be reversed. What matters to me is helping people, and spending time with children. And the idea I've come up with should allow me to do both."
            Finally, Kingsley smiled, scratching under his robe collar in a way that told Harry the formal part of the interview was over. "Then I can hope for a happy ending from this after all. I hope you'll be happy, at least. And if you see any of those children you think would make good Auror recruits, don't hesitate to send them our way."
            Harry flipped a salute, glad that Kingsley hadn't stayed unreasonable about this. "Will do. Though I expect to be dealing with children considerably younger than the recruitment age, for the most part."
            "You can spot potential at any age," said Kingsley primly, and then something beeped off to the side. Kingsley looked in that direction and swore. "Already late for a meeting. Good luck, Harry. Resignation accepted."
            He disappeared before Harry could say anything, but he was sure they'd said all they needed to say. Harry leaned back in his chair and shut his eyes, savoring the press of cloth against his back, the flex of muscles in his limbs. He might not have those things if he had continued as an Auror. It was the sort of job he could easily have died in, or got injured in. Ron was right. A few of those wounds to his leg might have made it hard for him to walk.
            I'll be doing what I want. And it'll be more than getting by, or more than the only thing in the world worth thinking about.
*
            Scorpius was jittering around the house long before the time they were supposed to leave. Draco practiced the patience befitting a father by saying nothing about it. He kept his eyes on the notes in front of him, notes that he had made about the Malfoy properties and monies he, after all, was supposed to be managing, and only made a comment when Scorpius climbed up on the arm of a particularly ancient chair.
            "You know that Grandfather Lucius wouldn't like you damaging that chair. It belonged to his father."
            Scorpius flopped back into the chair with a scowl. Draco was sure that his target had been the porcelain dragon at the edge of the mantel, which an enterprising child might be able to reach standing on the chair arm. "How long until we leave?"
            Draco flicked his wand in the movement for a Tempus Charm without looking up from the papers. Giving Scorpius too much attention in this mood would only encourage its persistence. "Twenty minutes."
            "It's too long! I want to go now!"
            "If we go now, then Mr. Potter's house-elf might not have finished cleaning the house," Draco said, using the most effective tactic he could think of. "Then you would get your robes all over dust, and have to come back and take a bath."
            Scorpius lifted himself up and flopped back again. Draco tensed, but didn't say anything. He knew the chair couldn't really be ruined by such treatment.
            "Why do you call him Mr. Potter, when I can call him Uncle Harry?" Scorpius asked abruptly a minute later. He had twisted himself around so that his legs were up against the back of the chair, and his head dangled off the seat. He was looking at Draco upside-down, from an angle that made his face look incredibly like Narcissa's. "Don't you like him?"
            What a complicated question.
            But Draco thought he could use the moment to teach Scorpius a lesson about some things he needed to learn anyway. He took one more look at the papers, then folded them away and turned to face Scorpius. Seeming to sense there was something more interesting to this particular answer than just a recitation of facts, Scorpius sat up and focused on Draco.
            "When we were children, Mr. Potter and I were rivals," Draco began. "He was in Gryffindor, I was in Slytherin, and we were both Seekers on our Quidditch teams. It's hard for me to put that aside and see him as someone else, someone I won't have to fight anymore."
            Scorpius's mouth dangled again. "But why did you ask him to come over and help me?"
            Draco still wasn't about to mention Ethan Starfall. That was a secret that, in some ways, he would have been happier not to have discovered. "Because I know he's not a member of our family. He's about as far from a member of our family as he could get," he added wryly, with an irony that he knew wouldn't damage Scorpius if he didn't grasp it. "So he could see things from the outside. You remember when Uncle Blaise said something about that? The person who sees from the outside is the one who sees clearly?"
            Blaise had actually said it in relation to one of those interminable disputes between Draco and Scorpius over whether Scorpius could eat a meal consisting only of biscuits, and he had taken Scorpius's side, said one meal was a small price to pay for peace and quiet, and given Scorpius the biscuits. But Draco hoped it was the saying Scorpius would tend to remember.
            Scorpius nodded, his face intent. Draco wondered if it was just that they were discussing Potter that made him look like that, or whether it was having a discussion with his father. He hoped it was at least both.
            "Mr. Potter sees us from the outside. I knew he would help us settle the fight." Draco shrugged. "And you seemed to like him. That's why I invited him."
            Some deep light came to life in Scorpius's face. Draco had to pretend to turn back to his papers to avoid acknowledging it too much. It seemed that Scorpius was dazed with the very thought of Draco doing something because he knew Scorpius would like it.
            That told Draco more about his inadequacies in relation to his son than Blaise's or Potter's or his parents' analyses ever could.
            The Floo came to life, and Scorpius spun around with a little squeak. Draco hid a smile and took a step forwards, moving his wand in the gesture that would give permission to whoever was in the fireplace to open the connection fully. He had thought it a wise precaution after one of Scorpius's adventures with the flames coming to life the other day.
            Potter's face appeared. He looked as though he had a smudge of dust above his forehead. He nodded. "It's ready, or as ready as it's going to get." He looked past Draco, and then Scorpius bounced over so Potter could see him. Potter's face relaxed as if it was melting. "There you are. Are you ready to come over and see Grimmauld Place? Teddy and Andromeda are already here."
            "Yes, Uncle Harry!"
            Draco brushed his hand against Scorpius's shoulder, but Scorpius didn't calm down, and maybe he didn't have to. "Thank you," Draco added, and Scorpius paused in his bouncing long enough to nod an acknowledgement.
            "You're welcome." Potter looked as embarrassed as though no one had ever thanked him before. "Come on, then. I've opened the Floo on my side." His face disappeared.
            “Ready, Scorpius?” Draco asked, picking up the Floo powder, and was greeted with a bounce and a scowl. He knew that Scorpius was beyond ready; this was more of a gentle tease. He had to admit, he was curious to see if Scorpius would snap at him.
            But apparently, Scorpius was too eager to see what lay beyond the fire, in the house that Potter had promised he should inherit, to snap. He gave Draco a distracted nod and reeled into the fire, leaving Draco barely enough time to throw in the Floo powder.
            Draco stepped out of the fire into a dark kitchen that looked as though someone had desperately tried to let in light, and failed. The cabinets were clean, at least, and so was the table in the center of the room. Scorpius stood there, turning around with his hands spread.
            “Scorpius! Little cousin!”
            Draco thought Teddy’s voice laid too much emphasis on “little,” but Scorpius ran excitedly over to Teddy and waved his arms. “Isn’t it amazing? It’s so big!”
            Draco grimaced. For one thing, Scorpius had only seen one room, and was judging based on too little evidence. For another, even if it was large, it couldn’t possibly be bigger than Malfoy Manor.
            “It’s pretty big,” said Teddy, grinning down at Scorpius as if he, at least, found no fault with the terms. “And it’s ours! Come on.” He took Scorpius’s hand and tugged him out of the room, barely missing Andromeda, who was coming in through the door.
            Potter stepped up close beside Draco and murmured, “Don’t take it so hard. It’s the biggest thing that’s ever been his, and I think he means that.”
            Draco wondered for a moment if Potter was a Legilimens, and then dismissed the notion. It was likelier that Potter was just exercising that uncanny knowledge of children that Draco had already wanted him to share a few times. “But he’ll own Malfoy Manor someday.”
            “Does he now?” Potter raised an eyebrow.
            “No,” Draco admitted. He hoped that his frown was a frown and not a pout. For a moment, Potter looked oddly at him, and Draco thought he might have looked childish. His mother had always told him he did when he frowned too often.
            Andromeda broke into their conversation. “Harry, is it true that you’re planning to leave it to both Teddy and Scorpius?”
            “Yes,” said Potter, and in a moment, power seemed to draw together around his body as he faced Andromeda. He hasn’t forgiven her all the way yet, Draco thought. Either that, or he doesn’t trust her as much as he used to. I wonder if she knows it? “They’re both the same degree of descent from the Black family. I didn’t think it would matter.”
            Andromeda blinked. “I didn’t mean that. I just wondered if you didn’t want to leave it to someone else.”
            “Who else do I have?” Potter sounded as though he had worked hard to keep the bitterness out of his voice, although Draco didn’t think he had succeeded completely. “I won’t have children of my own. And this house needs to be appreciated and lived in by someone. I don’t think I can ever appreciate it fully after what it did to Sirius.”
            “Is something sentient in the house?” Draco asked, concerned at once. He didn’t want Scorpius inheriting a haunted place, one that would damage him. There were strange tales about some of the older houses that hadn’t been inhabited by direct heirs in a while.
            “Nothing like that,” Potter said. “Merely that Sirius was trapped here, and I think it drove him crazy and contributed to his death.” He looked at Draco, and Draco was amused to note that some of the sense of waiting power faded. He trusted Draco more than Andromeda, then. In a way. It was terribly amusing. “I can’t live in this place.”
            “But you can clean it, and promise it to people who will,” said Draco, studying Potter. “That’s generous of you.”
            Potter shrugged, turning one shoulder as though that was the shield he would bounce compliments off. “It’s no big deal. Let’s go see what they’ve found.” Then he paused and stopped in mid-step. “Hopefully before—”
            A shriek rang out, and Draco jumped. Potter sighed. “That happens,” he added, and hurried out into a corridor. Draco and Andromeda followed.
            Scorpius and Teddy were standing in front of a portrait on the wall, their mouths open. Scorpius’s fingers were in his ears. Teddy was making faces and changing his hair back and forth from violent red to orange, probably to make fun of the woman who was shrieking at them. Draco knew at a glance that she was a Black, but not who she was. His mother’s training had extended to learning the names of his ancestors, not their faces.
            “This is Walburga Black,” Potter said, somehow managing to make himself heard through the awful shrieks, and he lifted his wand. A second later, a thick curtain, like the ones that the boys must have pulled aside, hung in front of the picture.
            She stopped screaming. Potter rolled his eyes and turned to Teddy. “You don’t need to taunt her like that, Teddy.”
            “She called me a nasty name and wouldn’t stop screaming.”
            Teddy sounded totally unrepentant. Draco smiled unwillingly, and hoped he could hide his smile from Scorpius. It wouldn’t be good if his son, who already had his own troubles, started picking up naughty things to do from Teddy.
            But Scorpius was just standing there with his hands over his ears. He gradually lowered them and asked Draco, “Daddy, what relation is she to us?”
            Draco had to pause a moment to work it out from what he remembered of the Black family tree. Andromeda, who must have remembered, stood there and let him do it. Perhaps she had no reason to memorialize the relationship to Walburga Black in his head.
            “She’s my great-aunt,” Draco said at last, “and your great-great-aunt.”
            Scorpius made a sound somewhere between a choke and a chuckle, and reached out to Andromeda. “I like my great-aunt,” he said. “Sorry, Daddy.”
            Andromeda looked down at Scorpius with a fond smile. “I promise that I’ll never sound as awful as that, Scorpius. No matter what you did.”
            “And neither will I,” Draco added, because he had the feeling Scorpius expected him to, even though he wasn’t looking in Draco’s direction. Or maybe Potter expected him to.
            Scorpius shivered, and then said, “Let’s explore the rest of the house!” and ran up the nearest staircase. Teddy followed, changing his hair to a silvery-blond that most nearly matched Draco’s mother’s. Draco watched them go and thought about how they looked like brothers instead of cousins.
            “Why did you leave that awful portrait up?” he asked, turning to Potter. “I would think you’d get rid of it.”
            Potter shrugged again, looking nearly as awkward as he had during the actual Floo conversation. “I wanted to. But Kreacher is rather devoted to her, and it’s—well, it’s hard to get rid of a portrait with a Permanent Sticking Charm on the back. I’ll figure out a way to do it now that I know Teddy and Scorpius will be inheriting the house. But I hadn’t lived here in years. No reason to.”
            Andromeda turned and slipped down a side corridor. Draco wondered if she was investigating some room she remembered from her childhood, but didn’t follow. “This place looks dingy and dusty,” he said.
            Potter gave him one of those looks that made Draco think he was remembering their schoolboy rivalry all over again. “Kreacher didn’t have much time to clean.”
            “I’m not disappointed in you, I’m disappointed in my ancestors,” Draco said, and stared up at the ceiling. Layers of dust and disintegrating wallpaper clung there still, although he could see where more had been removed. “Why did they let the house get like this?”
            Potter shrugged, and seemed calm again. “Sirius was in prison for years, and he was the last heir to the house. His mum—Walburga—died sometime in the eighties, I think. And when he was here, he didn’t have much motivation to keep it up.”
            “The house-elf should have,” Draco said, despite thinking it might provoke a tirade worthy of Granger.
            “Kreacher was depressed, and didn’t want to serve Sirius, and mostly wanted to be dead and have his head chopped off so it could be put on the wall like all the other house-elf heads.” Potter grimaced as he said that.
            “What,” Draco said. He had thought it would be the start of a question, but he had to end it there.
            Potter gave him a grim little smile. “I took down the heads before you came, of course. I thought it might upset the kids.”
            “It upsets me,” Draco said. No Malfoy house-elf had actually died during his lifetime, but he knew from past discussion that Lucius would have them buried in the back garden, rather like the Kneazle Draco had once owned that died as a kitten. House-elves weren’t all that important, but they weren’t trophies to be displayed. “Knowing my ancestors were people like that.”
            “If it helps,” Potter said, and he drew a little away from Draco and walked up the corridor in front of him, “you aren’t much like that.”
            Draco chuckled, and Potter glanced back at him, eyes like a deer’s. “I know why you think I might fly into a rage,” sad Draco, “but I won’t. I am trying to be better about the Malfoy side of my ancestry and not shoving it down Scorpius’s throat, and I never knew the Blacks. I don’t mind disparaging comments about them.”
            “I don’t even want to be disparaging.” Potter’s voice was soft, and he looked around at the ceilings and walls as if seeing through them. “I feel sorry for them. But at the same time, they were awful people, and tormented Sirius, and…when he died, I felt as though I’d lost the chance for a family.” Abruptly, he shook his head. “Until I found my friends and Andromeda and Teddy, of course.”
            Draco said nothing, but followed him deeper into the house, founding nothing so worthy of observation as Potter himself.
            How deep did that longing for a family run? How many times had he thought he’d built one up and then lost it? No wonder Andromeda’s comment had hurt him.
            Draco felt as though he was being invited into a corner of Potter’s soul, rather like Draco had invited Potter into his own family secrets.
            He felt…rather honored, in fact.
*
delia cerrano: Scorpius was partially looking for a father figure who would indulge him a bit, I think, and found one in Blaise. That doesn’t mean that Draco has nothing to offer, of course.
Jester: Harry would still be freaked out by that suggestion. ;)
- 26
- 27
- 28
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Starfall