Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

You Set Fire to the Rain	By : icicle33 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 11826 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter characters or any part of the HP fandom or universe. This story is written purely for pleasure and no money is be made from it. None at all.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Author's note: Thank you so much to everyone who read and reviewed chapter two. Your comments really mean so much to me and motivate me to write and edit quicker. I hope you enjoy this chapter as well, and once again, a special thank you to my betas: ashiiblack and erised_dreams.

As always, your comments and questions are greatly appreciated.

: : Three : :

"There is nothing heavier than compassion. Not even one's own pain weighs so heavy as the pain one feels with someone, for someone, pain intensified by the imagination and prolonged by a hundred echoes.” ~MK³

: : :

After you left, the days went by slowly—too slowly, and I couldn’t stop thinking about you and your pained grey eyes. And Andromeda, it was as if she were a different person, almost unrecognisable. Gone was the strong, fiercely independent woman, who always had a smile on her face no matter what the circumstance. She had survived being disowned by her family, the passing of her husband, as well as the murder of her only daughter. But losing her younger sister was the final straw, the final catastrophe that pushed her off the cliff. She was a broken woman now, barely a shell of her former fortitude, and it broke my heart. I just didn’t know how to help her; the only thing I could do was offer my unconditional support, so that’s what I did. I even accompanied her to Narcissa’s funeral.

Narcissa’s memorial service: a final tribute to a loving mother, wife, and sister, as it had been called in the official announcement, was a small and intimate affair. It took place in the Malfoy gardens and chapel and was only attended by a selective group of loved ones. You were there, of course, along with Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, and Snape’s portrait. They were probably there for moral support, and everyone needs someone I suppose, but did you really have to bring that slimy git’s portrait? Snape and I had made our peace, but that still didn’t mean I wanted to spend an afternoon in his presence. Luckily, I was able to avoid him, for the most part; although, like everyone else we ran into, even Snape, the snarkiest bastard I had ever met, seemed to have a soft spot for Andromeda. He offered her reassuring words, and I couldn’t help but be resentful of a ridiculous portrait because even bloody Snape was better at comforting Andie, my own family, than I was. It was infuriating—even in death, the slimy git still made me feel inadequate. Fucking Slytherins, why must you all confuse me? I tried to remain calm though, because Narcissa’s funeral was not about me; it was about you and all of Narcissa’s loved ones. Andie needed to find closure and say her final goodbyes to her sister, so I just kept my mouth shut; instead, I closely regarded the people around me.

A tall, elegant woman with olive coloured skin and ebony hair, which was piled on top of her head in a complicated and twisted updo, was standing two rows directly in front of me; she was drop-dead gorgeous and surprisingly familiar. Andromeda told me that she was Zabini’s mother and one of Narcissa’s closest friends. I couldn’t stop staring at the striking dark-haired woman, but not because of her beauty; rather, it was because of her hair. She was wearing a black lace veil that was draped half across her face and made her long, thin neck appear even more lithe than it already was, but her bony neck or veil were not what caught my attention; her black veil was adorned with an array of black feathers as well as a tiny top hat. It was quite bizarre and I didn’t understand why she was wearing that ill-fitting miniature top hat until a few seconds later, when a white dove poked its head out of her beehive hairstyle. I couldn’t help but chuckle, much more loudly than I had intended, and Andromeda elbowed me pointedly and whispered at me to behave. A slightly pug-nosed woman, that I assumed to be Pansy’s mother, turned around to glare at me, and I quickly looked down at the floor pretending that the pew in front of me was suddenly interesting and prayed that my cheeks weren’t noticeably red. Usually, I try not to act out and deliberately call attention to myself at social events, but that day I couldn’t help it. Seriously, a dove in a miniature top hat...nesting in Mrs Zabini’s hair—that was too priceless of an opportunity to resist, even if it was a funeral. Well, at least for once, I didn’t have the worst hairstyle in the entire place. I had to behave myself though, before that Parkinson woman cursed me. I could feel her penetrating gaze on my flushed cheeks even if I was staring at the floor. I quickly bit my tongue and tried to put on my most serious face.

After my wave of embarrassment passed, and I was sure that I would no longer snigger at Mrs Zabini’s dove, who I had named Aurora, I looked up and studied the rest of the guests. The service was being held in a large chapel inside the manor, but the number of guests in attendance could barely fill two pews. Luckily, everyone was spread out throughout the chapel—if not, the service would have looked completely vacant. In fact, apart from you and your friends, as well as their mothers, there were barely any other guests. All the members of the Malfoy Manor staff were also there to pay their respects, but that was it. Andromeda and I were the only other people in attendance. It seemed silly to be in such a large hall with so few guests, but I suppose it was just another of the various pureblood traditions that I didn’t understand.

Since I barely knew Narcissa, I felt out of place at her funeral, but after all, the woman had saved my life. I owed it to her memory to be there, and besides, I was there for moral support for Andromeda—and surprisingly enough, for you too. Not that I ever got the chance to tell you. I wanted to say something to you that day, offer you some words of consolation, but you were always surrounded by your friends. It wasn’t my place to interrupt, especially since we weren’t even friends, not really. I felt as if I were intruding by just being there, mostly because I hadn’t even been officially invited. At least you didn’t throw me out. That was definitely a plus—and the one time that our eyes did meet, you bowed your head solemnly at me in acknowledgment. Perhaps you had forgiven me for my inconsiderate behaviour the last time we had met.

Once you finally acknowledged me, I couldn’t stop watching you. It was as if you were the only person in the room—even Aurora no longer caught my eye. Merlin’s balls, what the hell was wrong with me? I heard Snape’s portrait make snide remarks about unwelcome and disrespectful brats, but I didn’t care.

For the rest of the afternoon, you were all I saw.

: : :

As they buried Narcissa in the Malfoy family mausoleum, your face was stoic and withdrawn, your grey eyes dark, distant. You were completely unruffled and poised—as if it were just another day in the tedious life of Draco Malfoy rather than your mother’s funeral. But it was all an act. It was as obvious as the light of day that behind those cold, grey eyes was a world of pain and unresolved grief. It wasn’t my place to help you though. I was there for Andromeda and you had your friends—except why weren’t they trying to help you?

I sighed heavily and bowed my head. I was trying to be strong for Andromeda, to be strong for you, but it was rather difficult since I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. Pansy was wailing besides you, gasping for air, and choking on her wretched sobs. I watched you stroke her arm and pat her back soothingly. I was completely nonplussed.

This was your mother’s funeral, so why were you comforting her? In fact, why were Pansy and most of the other guests crying hysterically while you were just standing there—shoulders back, spine straight, and tight-lipped? It wasn’t right. Didn’t they see that they were stealing your moment, tarnishing Narcissa’s memory? Perhaps that was the way you wanted it. You’re like me in that way, always better at comforting others rather than being comforted—always the victor and never the victim. Or at least we pretend to be.

I had always wanted to ask you about that day, about what you were thinking—how you acted so strong? Somehow, I never got around to it; it was much too depressing and heavy of a topic to bring into light conversation. I wish I had though. You probably wouldn’t have minded, and now I’ll never get the chance.

: : :

After Narcissa’s funeral, Andromeda didn’t leave the house for days. She couldn’t even be bothered to go to the market to buy milk for Teddy’s porridge. In that moment, I knew that things were dire. I needed to do something to help Andromeda, but sadly, the only thing I could do was offer to make tea and indulge her in small talk.

So that’s what we did. For days, we sat around and drank tea; we lived on macarons and cucumber sandwiches and just talked. We talked about everything, mostly inane things like our favourite subjects back at Hogwarts or our favourite Muggle authors. It didn’t matter really. I just wanted Andromeda to stay with me—anything to keep her from spiralling deeper into her depression. After a couple of weeks of way too many sweets and black tea, she seemed to be getting better, responding to me and smiling occasionally, even if it lacked the warmth it had once possessed. At least it was an improvement.

Yes, things were slowly getting back to normal, and I couldn’t have been more thrilled. Well, as long as I didn’t mention Narcissa or you, but it didn’t matter because I was making a difference. I was helping Andromeda and saving my family. Or so I thought.

A few weeks after Narcissa’s funeral, I had a terrible nightmare. It’s normal for me to toss and turn at night, but that night something didn’t feel right. I don’t even remember what the dream had been about, but what I do remember is a nagging feeling that I needed to go downstairs. I followed my instincts and started heading down the winding staircase when I heard a faint noise coming from the parlour; it sounded like whispering and immediately I was alarmed.

For once, I could put my Auror training to use, and I hate to admit that even though I was concerned, I was also a bit excited. I stealthily crept down the stairs and hid under the stairwell; my head was aching horribly, and I was in no mood to deal with intruders. It had been a long time since I dealt with criminals, so whoever had been daft enough to mess with my family was going to get their bollocks cursed off.

My wand was drawn and I was ready to hex whatever arsehole had broken into Andromeda’s house into oblivion, but what I found was so much worse. If only it had been an intruder that was waiting for me in the parlour. An intruder, even a Death Eater, was simple to deal with; it was someone I could fight, a threat that I could destroy. But the scene I found downstairs was like something out of my nightmares—there was nothing I could do to help, no villain to exterminate. I had to bite my tongue to keep myself from crying out and running to Andromeda. I knew that I had stumbled upon a private moment, and she would be devastated or at least embarrassed if she had found me spying on her. But I couldn’t make myself turn around. I was frozen on the spot.

Yes, all I could do was watch, and it broke my heart.

Andromeda was sitting in an old rocking chair that usually stood in the corner of the sitting room completely unused. She had her dark hair tied back in a loose plait, and it made her appear at least ten years younger; she looked like a school girl again and oh-so fragile. She had a pale blue cardigan tossed across her bony shoulders; she had gotten much too thin in these last few weeks even if she had only been eating macarons and tea. The blue cardigan was so familiar; I remembered it well. It was the last present that Narcissa had gotten her sister for her birthday and Andromeda adored it. She wore the soft cashmere cardigan often and made sure to tell anyone that would listen, that her thoughtful sister had gotten it specially made for her from imported grass-fed goats. I remember asking her why it mattered that the goats were grass-fed, but Andromeda just ruffled my hair and told me that I wouldn’t understand because I was a bloke. That seemed like such a silly excuse because you’re a bloke too, and I’m sure you would understand why imported cashmere was better than regular cashmere—whatever that means. I probably should have asked you…because now I’ll never know the difference.

I tried my best to keep silent as I watched Andromeda from the stairwell, but seeing her beautiful features so etched in pain and knowing that I was helpless was one of the most difficult things I have ever done, which is saying a lot, considering some of the atrocities I have witnessed. I watched her slowly swaying back and forth in her old rocking chair; she was clutching an old doll that although I had never seen it before, I would bet at one time had belonged to Narcissa. Her face was completely blank, her blue eyes listless and empty. It reminded me so much of another pair of blue-grey eyes that I had previously seen. God, my heart was aching. I couldn’t believe that I had actually been excited when I first came downstairs.

“Cissa,” Andromeda cried softly, barely parting her lips. She looked so fragile and broken that I could feel my chest tightening up further. I wanted to wrap her in my arms so badly, but there was nothing to be done.

“Cissa,” she said again, this time a little louder.

Silent tears were streaming down her pale face and she didn’t seem to notice. She clutched the doll closer to her chest and started to mumble.

“Blood curses,” she said, as she stroked the doll’s pale blonde hair that was so strikingly similar to that of her previous owner. “Blood curses,” she repeated. “Blood curses aren’t real.”

She laughed softly and then seemed to regain a far off expression in her eyes.

“Please, not Teddy. Not Teddy…take me instead.” She continued rocking back in forth in her chair and stroking the doll’s hair. “At least Draco’s strong,” she whispered. “I don’t have to worry about him.”

At that point, Andromeda broke into destructive sobs, and I couldn’t take it any more. I had imposed long enough—and this kind, albeit broken woman deserved her privacy. I let the poor woman mourn in peace and returned to my room.

I didn’t sleep at all that night.

: : :

After witnessing Andromeda in the rocking chair, I tried my best to keep to my room at night, even if I couldn’t sleep. I had never heard of blood curses before, and I wanted to know more about them. Yet, it wasn’t my place to ask Andromeda, especially because I could never admit to spying on her. I have always been shit at research, so I did what I always do when I have questions and asked Hermione about them. Hermione laughed when I asked her about blood curses; she insisted that they didn’t exist and were an old pureblood legend. She suggested that Andromeda was still in shock over her sister’s death, so she was coming up with possible reasons for her sister’s suicide—even if they were completely irrational and ill-founded like blood curses. At the time, it made me feel better, but I still worried about Andromeda’s mental state.

“How can I help her?” I asked Hermione, hoping that as always she would have the answer to my problems.

“Oh, Harry,” she said. “You can’t fix this. She’s lost so much—her husband, her daughter, and now her sister—just be there for her and help with Teddy. You have to give her time. Only time can help and heal her broken heart. ”

Of course, I hadn’t liked Hermione’s advice, but as always, she had been right. All I could do was be there for Andromeda and pray that she would heal quickly.

“Yes, Hermione, I’ll try my best. ”

I promised Hermione that I would no longer spy on Andromeda, and that I would give her some space, hoping that I wasn’t lying through my teeth. Certainly, I would do anything to help Andromeda and Teddy. In a short time, the middle-aged woman and her grandson had become my family, and I was fiercely protective of them. If only there was something I could do. For the first time since the end of the war, I called upon Narcissa’s memory and cursed her fervently. How dare she hurt my Andie so badly? And you, you were probably affected by this too, even if you didn’t show it.

: : :

Although her method of healing was a bit peculiar, it slowly seemed to work because barely a month after Narcissa’s death, Andromeda seemed to be getting better. Colour had returned to her pale cheeks, she starting eating more than just sweets, and one day even insisted that we take Teddy out to the park. I could not have been happier to see Andromeda make such progress; things were looking up for us. I was getting my family back and was finally able to start enjoying my extended holiday—until that dreaded day, so many months ago, which changed things so severely for us again.

For many reasons, I have never been a big supporter of the press. Reading the paper just wasn’t a part of my morning routine. Andromeda, however, was a different story. Perhaps it was because of her age or perhaps it was because she lived so far out from civilization, but Andromeda was obsessed with newspapers. She had subscriptions to all the major wizarding papers, both French and British alike, but most importantly, she read them religiously. Initially, I was horrified, knowing that she had read all the false and ghastly lies that had been published about me for so many years. Still, what the papers wrote that day was even more dreadful than anything they had ever written about me.

One newspaper headline read: ‘Malfoy Heir Responsible for Mother’s Death’. Another read: ‘Another Black Meets Tragic Demise, Coincidence or Not?’. I couldn’t help but feel sick to my stomach. These worthless scum reporters were actually blaming you for Narcissa’s death. They claimed that you orchestrated the entire plot and then covered it up, so you could be the sole heir to both the Malfoy and Black Estates. It was the most preposterous and nauseating thing I had ever heard. How could anyone ever write such rubbish? No one would believe such blatant lies, right?

I don’t know what made me want to read the papers that day, but some deeper, wiser power within myself urged me to read the news. When I saw the atrocities in front of me, I wanted to dispose of all the papers— burn them and destroy the evidence—before Andromeda would see them and feel their pain. Yet, I never had the chance because Andromeda got out of bed early that day and snatched one of the papers from my hand. Her face went much paler than usual, an almost greenish colour, and she looked as if she were about to faint. I put a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to appear supportive, but there wasn’t much I could do.

“Oh my god,” she said, her tone so similar to that first day she had heard of her sister’s demise.

“I-I”

The poor woman was in shock; she could barely speak as she in took in the appalling lies that were being spread in these sorry excuses for newspapers.

“I’ll get rid of them,” I told her. “I’ll cancel all the subscriptions at once. I always said they only printed rubbish. ”

Unfortunately, Andromeda ignored my comments and refused to relinquish her grip on the paper.

“Oh my god,” she repeated; her blue eyes had darkened and for once, I could feel a trace of her normally weak magic crackling in the air. “I need to speak with Draco,” she said. “Right away. ”

She quickly disappeared into the other room and I gulped loudly. Somehow, I had forgotten about you. It hadn’t even crossed my mind that you would read these horrid articles and be heartbroken. All of a sudden, my chest tightened even further.

“Andromeda,” I called, while making my way into the sitting room. “Is there anything I can do?”

“What?” she asked, her dressing gown now covered in soot.

“How can I help?” I asked again.

“Oh,” she replied frowning. “Well, I can’t reach, Draco. His Floo is blocked off and I’m worried. ”

“Right—well—I’m sure he’s fine. You know, erm-Draco,” I said, your first name sounding so foreign and strange on my tongue, but to my genuine horror not entirely unpleasant. “He’s probably just being dramatic...or busy. ”

“Still, I—”

“I’ll bet he’s fine,” I interrupted. “Why don’t you send him an owl? I’m certain he’ll respond to that. ” I put my hand on Andromeda’s shoulder; she felt cold again and still too thin. I was worried for her wellbeing.

“He’ll probably just laugh it off. He’s tough,” I said, trying to convince myself as much as Andromeda.

“I suppose you’re right, Harry,” she replied, although she looked far from convinced. “Let’s go have some breakfast. ”

: : :

More than a week had passed since the dreaded newspaper incident, and Andromeda was frantic. She had written you several letters and hadn’t received a response to any of them.

“Harry,” she said, the grief obvious in her soft voice, “I'm so worried about him. He hasn’t replied to any of my owls and the last two have been returned unopened. ”

I tried my best to offer my most reassuring smile and hugged her tightly. “I’m sure he’s fine,” I said, even though deep down I knew it was a lie. “Perhaps he’s just on holiday. Maybe he needed to get away. ”

“I hope,” Andromeda said, as she continued to prepare Teddy’s breakfast in the kitchen.

“It’s just…not like Draco to not respond to my letters.” She sighed and turned around to lock eyes with me. “He always writes back—even if it’s just a brief note telling me he’s busy.”

“Well—”

“I don’t know what to think.”

I smiled at the older woman, trying my best to keep the concern off my face.

“If it’ll make you feel better, I can ask around the Auror Department and see if they’ve heard anything.”

Andromeda exhaled deeply and quickly dismissed the idea.

“Absolutely not.” A sudden fierceness was blazing behind her eyes. “I don’t want the Aurors anywhere near my nephew. They have terrorised him enough. ” She paused for a second and averted her eyes from mine. “Perhaps I should go and check on him.”

I looked at the frail older woman in front of me and felt a lump form in my throat. The poor woman had barely gained any strength at all in these past weeks, if she travelled all the way to England, who knows what would become of her health.

“Andie,” I said, hoping that my voice was kind but reasonable. “I can’t let you do that. You’re not well,” I insisted, trying to put it nicely that she wasn’t allowed to go.

“Harry—” she complained, “I’m not a child.”

“Of course not,” I snapped, “but you’re not well, and I’m certain your nephew is fine.”

“But—”

I sighed loudly and ran a hand through my messy hair. Oh, the things I would do for this woman. She was completely loony.

“If you want,” I said slowly, hoping desperately that I wouldn’t regret these words. “I can go and check on him.”

Andromeda broke into a brilliant, dazzling smile. Her sapphire blue eyes lit up and her pale skin seemed to flush at the cheeks.

“You would do that for me?” she asked, completely astonished.

“Of course, I would,” I said evenly. “I would do anything for you and Teddy.”

She threw her arms around my neck and planted a stream of kisses on my forehead.

“You and Teddy are my only real family,” I said in between suffocating kisses. “If it’ll give you peace of mind, I’ll do it. Anything at all.”

“Thank you, Harry. Thank you so much,” she squealed. I couldn’t help but blush at her appreciation.

“It’s nothing.”

The last thing I wanted to do was to visit Malfoy Manor and be hexed by you, but as I told Andromeda, I would do anything she asked of me, always.

To be continued…

: : :

Author’s note: Thank you so much reading and I’d love to hear your thoughts or questions. For some reason, my chapters keep getting longer and chapter 4 is even longer than this one. I’m trying to even out the length of the future chapters, so that won’t keep happening; however, I won’t make any promises. I will probably be updating again this weekend. This next chapter is a really good one, and I’m excited to share it with you. Have a great week everyone.

[3] The quote at the beginning of the chapter is by Franco-Czech author Milan Kundera. It doesn't belong to me in any way.

Until next time,

~Icicle

Review Responses:

It looks like from now on I won't be able to see any of the registered users emails due to the new aff.net format, so I'll continue to post review responses at the very end of the chapter. I apologise to those this doesn't pertain to.

ladykana: Thank you for your review. Since this story is mostly written, I promise to update at least once a week and sometimes twice if I have the time, so you won't be left hanging for too long.

unneeded: Your review was greatly appreciated and I responded by email since you so kindly left one.

hotflower901: Thanks so much for your comments. You're so right when you pointed out that nothing Harry could say would be able to console Draco. Poor Harry only wound up making things worse, and he even caused trouble at Narcissa's funeral. Unfortunately, Draco isn't finished suffering just yet, but I do promise that Harry will continue to try and comfort him.

**Thank you again for your kind words. They make my day. = )
- 2
- 3
- 4
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

You Set Fire to the Rain