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Harry's Project	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 11256 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
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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Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Three�Harry Is
Repentant, Draco Is Unreasonable

�� Ron took a
step into the office, then immediately backed out again. �Harry!� he said in a
desperately cheerful voice. �What are you doing here? I thought you were, er,
taking some time off to pursue that new pet project of yours. And no one
deserves time off more than you, mate. After all, you�ve kept the wizarding
world so safe that no Death Eater dares squeak
now! Don�t you think you should be home resting? Or at least in the Ministry
archives, archiving�investigating something?�

�� Harry
raised dull eyes. It took his brain a long moment, since it was still swimming
with Malfoy�s words, to focus on Ron�s rambling and figure out what was wrong.
Then he snorted and shook his head. �I�m not going to pick a fight with you,
Ron.�

�� That,� Ron said darkly, poking his head
in, �is what you said last Thursday. And then when I disagreed, you picked a
fight about that.�

�� I�ve got
something else to occupy me now,� Harry said. He sighed and stared morosely
into his cup of tea. And he even knew it
was morosely, and yet there was nothing he could do about it.

�� Malfoy�

�� Malfoy had
a point.

�� Harry would
have liked to be able to loudly and utterly deny that Malfoy had a point of any
kind, but if that was true, he would have stayed there and fought the bastard, wouldn�t he? He wouldn�t have run away like his
eleven-year-old self meeting Fluffy for the first time.

�� He didn�t
want to think of himself as a hero helpless without his cheering crowd. But it
was true that he hadn�t done anything good without receiving public
acknowledgment for it in a long time. He was constantly honored as an Auror
when he captured criminals. People treated his opinions on the issues of the
day with breathless reverence. Harry had thought that was all right for a
while. He�d got used to the press attention, and most of the time it made his
job easier.

�� But then
his superiors had stopped giving him the interesting cases. And then he�d
needed a project, and�

�� Harry
winced, his chest tight. That was the major thing bothering him. Malfoy had
been right when he said he and his family were only projects to Harry, that he
couldn�t see them as people. And he wasn�t
doing this for a noble motive.

�� What really
surprised Harry was that he cared about that. He�d been honest with himself
from the beginning. When had that honesty, the fact that he was bored and doing
this to give himself something to think about, become a bad thing?

�� Maybe it always was.

�� That was
what he was really afraid of.

�� I�m going
for a walk,� he muttered, and pushed himself away from his desk.

�� Ron
immediately scuttled into the office and settled at his desk with a sigh of
relief. �Oh, good,� he said. �Maybe that�ll clear your head, huh, mate?�

�� Harry
paused and really looked at his best friend. The best friend whom he hadn�t
spoken civilly to in weeks, the best friend who really appeared utterly afraid
that every interaction with Harry was going to turn into an argument.

�� Yes,� he said
softly. �Maybe it will.�

�� And then he
ducked out of the office, and went towards the Atrium, so he could take a Floo
out of the Ministry. He�d walk through the streets of Muggle London, where
there was no one stopping him for an autograph or a handshake every five
minutes. That might clear his head in more ways than one.

*

�� By the time
his next visit with Pansy rolled around, Harry couldn�t believe that he�d let
Malfoy�s words have such power over him. They were just words. And sure, they were the first contradictory opinion he had
encountered in some time. That was the reason they�d crashed home so hard. But
he�d tried in the week since then:
given a few anonymous charitable contributions with only his conscience to
congratulate him, and worked hard on making sure that there were no loose ends
from the Malfoy case left hanging in the Ministry. He�d even considered staying
away from the Malfoy house for the rest of the time it took to settle this, and
just corresponding by owl.

�� But then
Malfoy would think he�d managed to scare Harry.
That couldn�t be borne.

�� Pansy�s
tall and dignified house-elf opened the door again, but this time bowed Harry
around the corner of the house. �Mistress is waiting in her garden,� it said.

�� Harry
blinked as the door shut in his face, then trailed around the corner, frowning.
He hadn�t thought of Pansy as someone who would venture outside the drawing
room, lest her robes get mussed.

�� But there
she was on a bench in the Manor�s rose gardens, in yet more dress robes, these
a brilliant green. She was bent down, talking softly to something in her lap.
Harry thought it might be a cat or a young house-elf until he got close enough
and recognized a small, dark, human
head against her chest. He stopped abruptly.

�� Pansy
looked up, smiling, apparently expecting him. �Hello, Mr. Potter,� she said.
She nudged the little boy in her lap and turned him around to face Harry. �This
is my son, Edgar,� she said. �Say hello to Mr. Potter, Edgar.�

�� The boy
blinked at Harry, then scrunched both nose and mouth up with a yawn. He was
probably three years old, but unlike most children Harry had met at that age,
he seemed drowsy and content. He wore blue dress robes that were a miniature of
his mother�s, and pooled and flowed around his legs and arms until he was quite
lost in them. His hair was dark as Pansy�s, but far curlier, and he had watery
blue eyes that made Harry suspect he�d need glasses before he was much older.
�Hullo,� he said obediently, then cuddled back into his mother.

�� Pansy chuckled
and patted his back. �I suspect not even a war hero can impress when it�s near
his bedtime,� she murmured. Then she raised an eyebrow and added, �Do sit down,
Potter, really. You could make anyone feel ridiculous standing in front of her
and gaping like that.�

�� Harry
coughed and took a seat on a bench opposite Pansy and Edgar. It was almost
absurd how peaceful the rose garden seemed. The sunset threw shafts of glinting
golden light across them. Bees hummed over the flowers, drowsy as Edgar and as
unthreatening. A small pond nearby had a single swan gliding in it, backwards
and forwards, neck bent as if to admire its reflection in the water.

�� You�ve
been to see Draco, I understand?�

�� Harry
glanced at her sharply, but Pansy was busy arranging Edgar�s limbs in a new
pose and didn�t appear to notice.

�� Yes,� said
Harry. �He was�� He paused. Neither �astonished at my success� or �angry at my
presumption� seemed to be the best response.

�� Oh, go
on.� Pansy glanced up, eyes glinting. �He was angry, wasn�t he? Appalled that
you managed to succeed where he couldn�t?�

�� I, well.�
Harry didn�t know why, but being around Pansy made his awkwardness and dislike
of Draco�s words come back to him. He had to ignore the temptation to stare at
his hands and instead meet her gaze boldly. Meekness wouldn�t win the Malfoy
money and lands back. �Why would you have turned him away, anyway?�

�� Because
Draco never could provide me the amusement you can,� Pansy said airily. �I know
his anger too well, and his petulant pouts. Whereas you, I haven�t seen driven to the edge of sanity yet.�

�� Is that
what you meant about wanting me to be your jester?�

�� Been
thinking quite a lot about that, haven�t you?� Pansy kissed her son on the top
of the head, and whatever Harry had wanted to say was lost in the moment of
shifting robes and sweetness. He had an ache in his heart. He didn�t know why.
He just knew that he had to look away from Pansy and catch his breath for a
moment.

�� Well,
yes,� he told a rosebush. �You have to admit it was an unusual thing to say.�

�� It was the
truth.� Pansy stopped shifting around, and Harry felt safe to look back at her.
Once again, she was giving him that bright, thoughtful look from last week.
�The jester was safe from kingly retribution for speaking the truth because he was a fool.� She bared her
teeth. Harry knew the difference between that and a smile thanks to long
experience in the Ministry. �Now. Do tell me why you think the Malfoy family
deserves their land and money back.�

�� They�re
not doing well,� Harry said, eager to move on from the subject of himself.
�Malfoy�Draco, I mean�is more pathetic than I�ve ever seen him. He looks broken. Like someone punched him in the
stomach and he�s still bent around the blow. I think he could have his pride
back if his money and homes were restored to him.�

�� And his
pride matters so much to you?� Pansy asked softly.

�� Er. It
might.� Harry eyed the rosebushes suspiciously, wondering if they had been bred
to exude some kind of drug in the place of fragrance. It would explain why his
head was spinning, why he felt he couldn�t catch his breath.

�� You seem
different from last week,� said Pansy, who had no right to be that damnably
perceptive. �Quieter. As though you went into Draco�s house spouting this sort of
nonsense and got your face slapped.�

�� Harry
started and turned to her. �I�m only telling the truth,� he said. �I do think
he would be better off if he got��

�� The houses
and money back, yes, I know.� Pansy waved a hand at the gardens and the Manor
house. �What if I were to tell you that this was the only home Edgar had ever
known? That he would be devastated to leave it?�

�� Harry
narrowed his eyes a little. �I wouldn�t believe you. When you have that much
money, I�m sure he has more than one home.�

�� Pansy
laughed. �Oh, very good, Potter! That�s the kind of truth-speaking I�m talking
about. My employees can�t do that.� She stroked her son�s hair and smiled at
him for a moment, then nodded. �As a matter of fact, it�s true. We could give
up the Manor and Edgar wouldn�t miss it very much. In fact, he doesn�t sleep
very well whilst we�re here unless it�s summer. He likes the noises of London
during the winter.� She cocked her head. �But you took the tack of believing me
right away, without consulting your instincts. Even though Edgar is in front of
you, cuter than a Crup puppy, if I do say so myself, and Draco isn�t. You care
about this for more than his pride. Why,
Potter?�

�� Harry swore
silently. He didn�t want to discuss this. He didn�t want to discuss this with anybody. But if it was a way to get
Pansy to actually listen to him, then he couldn�t afford not to have this
discussion.

�� He did say
something to me,� he admitted between clenched teeth. �It was�well, to do with
my reasons for doing this. And he was right. I was treating him like some sort
of object, or amusement, or toy. I don�t want to anymore. I want to get him his
home back, and I want to do it for unselfish reasons. If that means coming to
you and acting as your jester, then that�s what I�ll do.�

�� An
exquisite performance,� Pansy said, rising to her feet and gathering Edgar up
tenderly along with a swirl of her robes. �But not quite perfect yet. You can
come and see me next week at the same time, Potter.�

�� And off she
went again, before Harry could even open his mouth to protest.

*

�� This time,
when he was shown into the Malfoy cottage, it was to confront both Draco and
his mother. Narcissa Malfoy sat upright as a Muggle mannequin in the middle of
the brilliant green drawing room and stared at Harry.

�� Harry
checked the impatient words that wanted to spring to his lips. After all,
Malfoy�s mother surely had as much right to hear about his progress as Malfoy
himself, though Harry doubted she would be more receptive to it.

�� Pansy
asked me to come back next week,� he told Draco. His tongue was stiff in his
mouth. He was trying to look at Malfoy and not see him as a broken beggar, or
the git he had known back in school. It was extremely difficult. He had so many
lines of strain around his mouth, after all. �And she admitted that she doesn�t
need Malfoy Manor for her son. That was the only concession she offered me.�

�� He hoped
Malfoy would yell at him, so that Harry could yell back and finally get rid of
this lingering feeling of remorse and resentment. But Malfoy only raised his
eyebrows and glanced at his mother, who said, �More progress than I expected,
in truth. You will attend the meeting with her next week, Mr. Potter?�

�� Harry
looked briefly at Narcissa. She showed her age in a way she wouldn�t have a few
years ago, he thought; she looked as harassed as Mrs. Weasley.

�� And why shouldn�t she? he thought. Mrs. Weasley endured a lot more than she
did, and still managed to be more kind-hearted.

�� But the
problem was, Harry couldn�t be sure of that, because he didn�t really know what
the Malfoys had endured in the past few years.

�� I�ll
attend the meeting,� he said. �Until she tells me to go away completely, I�ll
keep talking to her.�

�� I�m amazed
that you can�t think of something she wants and give it to her,� Malfoy drawled
behind him. �You�re good at that, aren�t you?�

�� Harry
controlled his immediate impulse to turn and snap. He would not snap. He would not show Malfoy that
he had got through the way he talked about last week and made a mark on Harry�s
soul after all. �There might come a time when talking isn�t enough,� he
continued. �If that�s true, then I�ll search through the Ministry again. Maybe
there was evidence covered up that I overlooked. Maybe the Minister or some
members of the Wizengamot could be counted upon to intervene if they were
convinced it was worthwhile.�

�� Worthwhile,�
Malfoy said softly. �What would it take to convince them that a member of our family is worthwhile?�

�� Narcissa
quelled him with a glance. Harry found himself, unexpectedly, aching with envy.
He wanted to be able to do that, to look straight at Malfoy and dismiss
him�make him dismiss himself. He used
to be able to do it in school, where his ignoring Malfoy had frustrated him
horribly. Why couldn�t Harry do it now?

�� I trust
you to do your best, Mr. Potter,� Narcissa said, pulling Harry�s attention back
to her again. �After all, you�re repaying the debt that you owe me from the
Forbidden Forest, where I lied to the Dark Lord for you.�

�� Harry, who
had felt his mouth working into a smile, felt it freeze again. Was that really
the only reason that the Malfoy family would ever trust him? They thought he
was paying back a debt, or they thought he was using them for entertainment?
They could never trust him, Harry
Potter, to be a good person and treat them the way he treated everyone else?

�� What indication have you given to them that
you would?

�� But Harry
pushed the thoughts away. He hadn�t had any interaction with the Malfoy family
in years. If they had changed, they should know he had, too. Didn�t his
reputation speak for him? Didn�t his tireless work for the Ministry, work that
other Aurors had abandoned in order to do something more profitable and less
dangerous, matter?

�� After that,
there seemed to be little more to say. Narcissa dismissed Harry with a regal
nod and then glided up the stairs again. She wore pale blue dress robes, as if
even in this shabby little house, the Minister might drop by and she wanted to
be properly attired to greet such an important guest. But Harry couldn�t be
fooled, now that he knew what he was looking for. He could see the patches and
ragged spots along the robe�s sleeves and hem where the lace had torn away.

�� And he
could see the defensive wards shimmering around the windows and doors and
chinks in the walls�all the weak points of any attack. He could see the shadows
in Narcissa�s eyes. He could see the portraits on the walls and notice, if he
tried, that they were usually marred by some defect, clumsy painting or torn
canvas, meaning that these definitely weren�t the best decorations the family
could have hung.

�� Have you
lost your way to the door, Potter? I�ll be more than happy to escort you.�
Malfoy�s voice was perfectly polite and stung as hail stung.

�� Harry
turned on him, more than glad to have the chance to exorcise the ghosts of last
week�s words. �You should know that I won�t stop until I win everything back for you,� he said.
�Pansy must have a home of her own, one her husband owned. He wasn�t poor. And
she isn�t poor. You�ll have your Galleons back.�

�� Malfoy
watched him with a twisted half-smile. Then he said, �That still won�t make me
crawl at your feet like one of your grateful admirers, you know.�

�� Harry
snarled. He hated the anger that bubbled up in him now. It was too wild, too
uncontrolled. No one should be able to irritate
him like this. If he could hold his cool in front of newspaper reporters,
he should certainly be able to hold it in front of Draco. �That�s not what I
want!�

�� Ah, but it
is.� Malfoy glanced down, still with that half-smile on his face. He was
twining one of his own hairs in and out among his fingers. Harry tried to think
that he had ripped it out of his head in frustration, but he wouldn�t have been
satisfied unless he�d seen Malfoy actually do it. �Real philanthropists don�t
hang around demanding gratitude. They just distribute the good and go on their
way.� His eyes flashed up to Harry�s. �It doesn�t matter whether someone is watching them.�

�� Harry
snorted. At least he had a response this time, because he was over at the
surprise that Malfoy still possessed a sharp tongue. �No one�s that selfless,
Malfoy. Someone will offer them gratitude, and they take joy in it.�

�� Ah,�
Malfoy repeated and came a few steps closer, his eyes brilliant. They made
Harry uneasy. They seemed to suggest that, this time, Malfoy had a plan which
would work. And he had made the
Vanishing Cabinet work, hadn�t he? It was always his most nefarious, serious
plans that did. �But you like to think of
yourself that way, don�t you? It�s the way you live with the praise and your
inflated reputation. You tell yourself you deserve it because you�re so noble.
You don�t take advantage of your fame the way some other people would�well, not
all the time, anyway�and that�s good
enough. You can be noble because you still have people to despise, people who
would do a lot worse with what you have.� His mouth curved into a wider, more
jagged smile. �People like me and my family.�

�� You�re
wrong.� Harry had never heard his own voice sound so ugly.

�� Oh, but
I�m not,� Malfoy said. �It�s easy enough to see. You confessed the truth to me
that first day you came here. Laughing at me with your mouth open, so sure that
your boredom was more notice than we
ever deserved.� He gestured around at the house without taking his eyes off
Harry. �Did you once consider that we might have more important things in our
lives than you to worry about, whatever the capacity?�

�� Since I
have no idea what happened, Malfoy, I
can�t��

�� Oh, but
you could have found out,� Malfoy said. �You just wanted to hear it from my
mouth or not at all, to prove to yourself that you could still demand, and win,
regard from me. But I�m not telling you this because I want to fulfill your
wishes. I�m telling you so that you understand how small a presence in my life
you are.�

�� Harry
glared at him, his fists at his sides. Malfoy was so full of shit. Harry was
sure Malfoy had thought of him every day in the last week since his scolding,
just like Harry had thought of him.

�� Well.

�� Reasonably sure, anyway.

�� Our
neighbors tried to drive us out of our house with every hex known to wizarding
kind when we first arrived.� Malfoy�s eyes were blank. �When we put up the
wards so they couldn�t, they refused to sell us anything. We have to go to
Diagon Alley for our groceries, and we have to go in disguise. That�s five years after the loss of our money
and houses, Potter. You�d think �good wizards� could give up a grudge in that
time, couldn�t you? Oh, no, but it�s only Slytherins who keep grudges that
long.

�� Meanwhile,
we got Howlers every day until we set up spells that forbade us to receive owl
post from any but a few specific people. The Ministry refused to assign us any
daily protection. The Wizengamot �lost� our paperwork asking for protection
even on special occasions, such as when we go to Diagon Alley to retrieve money
from what�s left of our Gringotts
accounts.

�� A few of
my friends tried to stand by me, but their parents threatened them into drawing
back. None of Father�s previous colleagues listen to him anymore. My mother had
a few people she thought of as true friends, but they won�t defy their husbands
for her. We�re alone, Potter, and
we�re at war. We were probably safer during
the war, in fact, because at least then people were afraid of the Death
Eaters.� He laughed, but there was a sob in the back of his voice. �And we
stand a good chance of being alone until we die. Do you think you can fix that? Against that, do you really believe your pathetic Gryffindor do-gooding makes
a difference?�

�� You could
go abroad,� Harry whispered, too stunned to think of anything else.

�� Maybe,�
Malfoy snapped, his voice brittle and sloppy as thin ice. �If we could get out of the country. Apparition
doesn�t work that far. Thanks to a little law the Ministry passed the year
after the war, International Floo is shut to everyone with a Dark Mark. They
control the making of all Portkeys, too, in case you hadn�t noticed. And we
don�t have enough money to buy tickets by Muggle transport and still set up a
new home in a new country. We don�t understand enough about the Muggle world to
do that, anyway.� He put a hand over his face and sighed. �Why am I even
explaining this to you?� he wondered aloud. �You aren�t capable of
understanding it.�

�� But Harry
was, though for reasons he would never explain to Malfoy. He remembered all too
well what ten years with the Dursleys had been like, convinced that no one
would ever love him, convinced that no one would ever help him. Even when he
was an adult, he would have to have money and friends to survive comfortably in
the world, and he knew there was nothing coming to him by inheritance, no
support from his relatives whilst they were still alive, no one he already knew
who would trust him enough to recommend or hire him for a job. He had looked
forwards to a dreary, poor existence with his own lack of experience cutting
him off from everything. He knew the feeling of being battered and trapped into
a corner, with nothing to do but survive when even survival seemed unendurable.

�� And if
Malfoy knew that too�

�� Malfoy,�
Harry said softly, and stepped forwards.

He wanted to tell the other man it
was all right, that he understood,
that he was willing to stand by and fight for them even after they had their
money and houses again and were reestablished in wizarding society, that�

�I don�t want your pity, Potter.�

Harry stopped. There could be no
doubting that the contempt in Malfoy�s voice was real.

�� It�s not
pity,� Harry managed to say, whilst he tried to swallow with a dry throat.

�� I don�t want anything from you,� Malfoy snapped,
dragging his head around. He looked like some noble, bleeding wild animal held
at bay by werewolves. A stag, perhaps, Harry thought. �Even if I need it.�

�� And his
eyes begged Harry so eloquently to go away that Harry had no choice but to bow
his head and do so.

*

�� Tina109:
Thanks for reviewing!

�� Mangacat:
Pansy will carry the jester thing as far as it will go. ;)

�� Thrnbrooke:
Harry definitely doesn�t like how well Draco pegged him.

�� Yume111:
Dislike Harry all you like! This is, I hope, a story of him learning better,
but he starts pretty far down. And yes, the light-heartedness comes from Harry
not having much knowledge about anything, including the Malfoys� recent status.

�� Off_the_deep_end:
Pansy honestly is a good gal here.

�� Lilith:
Thanks for reviewing!

�� Natwestgirl:
Thank you! Harry might have an easier time of it if he went away for a while
and tried to grow up, but this is Harry; he won�t.

�� Werewolf
Mistress: Here�s chapter 3. Updates on this should be regular, every third day
or so.
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