Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

There's a Pure-Blood Custom For That	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 41050 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

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Obligations of Hospitality
            Harry paused and looked around the Leaky Cauldron, not really surprised that Malfoy and Scorpius weren’t here yet. Although he had showed up, he thought that Malfoy would probably back out, if it was a joke. And Harry wouldn’t blame him. Hell, he would be glad to have a silly joke over with. They weren’t twelve anymore. There was no reason to play pranks on each other.
            Harry did make sure that he got a mug of Firewhisky before he went to his table. He could use the taste of the drink in his mouth to make him forget about the fight he’d had with George over coming.
            George had spoken about Death Eaters and Malfoy and how they didn’t have to show that they approved of Malfoy and what he had done, very passionately. Harry had agreed with that. They didn’t need to approve of it. It would be stupid to approve of it, when it had got Bill scarred.
            But he disagreed with the assumption that it meant they needed to yell at Malfoy or exile him from the shop, either. Malfoy had served his year for letting Death Eaters into the school and the consequences of it. It had actually been the only crime that he was convicted for, as the witnesses to the other crimes either were Death Eaters themselves or declined to press charges, the way Harry had. So Malfoy had paid for that.
            George didn’t have to see or serve him. And really, Harry could live happily for the rest of his life without seeing him either.
            But this was something that would nag at him like an aching tooth if he didn’t settle it. If nothing else, perhaps he could learn why Malfoy wanted to play a prank on him after so many years of productively ignoring each other.
            “Potter.”
            Harry glanced up, eyebrow rising. Yes, there was Malfoy, clutching Scorpius’s hand. Scorpius was staring around with an intense interest that told Harry he had never been in such a busy place. He tugged on Malfoy’s hand and whispered, “Daddy, is that a hag?”
            “It is, Scorpius,” said Malfoy, without looking around, which made Harry decide that the war hadn’t dented his self-confidence much. “But it’s rude to point.” He drew out a chair and shrank it slightly for Scorpius with his wand, then settled his son into it. “I’m going to get lunch for us,” he told Harry. “What do you want?”
            Harry blinked at him. He had assumed that little announcement was just Malfoy’s way of asking Harry to watch Scorpius for a short time. But this was… “You don’t need to buy me anything,” he said. “I ate before I came. And this is paid for, too,” he added, hoisting the mug of Firewhisky when Malfoy’s eyes fell on it. It was true that he had only eaten breakfast and not lunch, but the argument with George had killed a lot of his appetite.
            Malfoy opened his mouth. Harry never knew what he would have said, because just then, something else entered the conversation.
            “Is that your tummy growling?” Scorpius stared at Harry, then ducked his head and covered his face with his hands as he laughed. “Feed the beast! That’s what Daddy always says. Feed the beast!”
            Harry couldn’t help smiling. Really, things would have been easier if Malfoy had left Scorpius at home and he wasn’t so bloody cute. “Yes, fine,” he said. “It was breakfast, and not lunch,” he added, when he saw Malfoy’s narrowed eyes. It was important for Malfoy to know he wasn’t lying. “I did eat. But not recently.”
            Malfoy nodded regally. “I know what I want, and Scorpius told me before he came. What do you want?”
            Harry waved his hand. “A cheese sandwich is fine.”
            Malfoy’s faintly puzzled expression said what he thought about that as lunch, but he nodded and strode away through the crowd. Scorpius had only had time to tell Harry what he had named the bird (Golden), how many tricks he could do with it (nine), and how much he liked it (lots) before Malfoy came back with the food. Scorpius had a sandwich, too, and Malfoy a plate of salad that surprised Harry. He hadn’t known that the Leaky Cauldron even had salads.
            “Thanks,” said Harry, eyeing Scorpius’s sandwich as he bit into his so he could understand why Malfoy was so disdainful of Harry only eating that for lunch. Then he saw a corner of lettuce sticking out of Scorpius’s bread, and nodded wisely. Apparently, cheese by itself wasn’t healthy enough for a father to approve of.
            Lucky for everyone concerned that he’s not my dad, then.
            Harry entertained himself for a second of how much trouble he would have given any Malfoy as a son, but especially Lucius, then came back to the present when he saw Malfoy’s gaze fix sternly on him. Maybe he was a good enough Legilimens to read surface thoughts, like Snape, and didn’t approve of the frivolous direction Harry’s thoughts had taken. Come to that, Harry wasn’t sure he approved of it.
            “Did you have something specific you wanted to talk about?” Harry asked, and ate some more of his sandwich while Malfoy appeared to hesitate about how he wanted to respond.
            Scorpius tugged on his sleeve and whispered something to him. Malfoy nodded and faced Harry. “You may wonder what obligation of hospitality I am fulfilling, and why it can be met by meeting here instead of in the Manor.”
            “I did wonder about that,” said Harry. “But I didn’t think you’d be here, honestly.”
            “Why not?” Malfoy’s voice was so glacial that Harry was a little surprised not to see ice curl around the piece of carrot on his fork.
            “Because I thought it was a joke,” Harry said, and held his eyes, shaking his head in response to Malfoy’s headshake. “Come on, Malfoy. You’ve ignored me for years, and if you want to pay for those life-debts, or get payment for the ones I owe your family, then why did you wait so long to collect them?”
            Malfoy’s mouth worked, and then he filled it with more vegetables that he crunched up emphatically. Harry waited. That wasn’t an answer.
            Malfoy sipped from his glass of water, and finally replied, “It has nothing to do with life-debts, or with jokes.”
            “Then tell me what it has to do with.” Harry saw the quick glance Malfoy gave Scorpius, but he shook his head impatiently. If this was completely inappropriate for Scorpius’s ears, then Malfoy shouldn’t have brought him along. What had he thought he and Harry would be discussing? The best way to roast pigeons whole, or whatever other decadent food Malfoy ate on a regular basis?
            With a long sigh, Malfoy finished another forkful of salad. Then he put down his fork and said, “Your compassion towards me in Diagon Alley that day was unexpected.”
            “So was your custom,” said Harry. “But I already told you that I think you should be treated just like anyone else.”
            “Not special?” Scorpius interrupted. He was staring at Harry with an expression that looked like it could become a pout at any second.
            Harry grinned back. “No. I don’t want you or your dad threatened, but if I saw someone else with a kid, then I’d protect them, too.”
            “Oh.” Scorpius leaned back in his chair and folded his arms, with a scowl. “I thought you were my special friend.”
            Malfoy coughed and picked up his napkin to pat at his lips, but Harry had seen the smile on them. It was still visible in his eyes. He probably thought Harry couldn’t get out of this without disappointing a kid.
            “I just think a lot of people are special,” said Harry, doing his best to smile at Scorpius and glare at Malfoy both at once. “But you got your bird, right? So you can think of me as your friend.”
            Scorpius studied him a little more, then said, “But why wouldn’t you come over to our house?”
            “Yes,” Malfoy murmured, picking up his glass again, although it was empty now. “I wondered myself if you would ever accept the invitation.”
            “I prefer to be in public,” Harry said. If Malfoy hadn’t started talking about the war to Scorpius yet—although if Scorpius knew some of the things Harry had done, that seemed impossible—Harry wasn’t about to begin it for him. “And I have a lot of things to do, you know. The shop to run, and my friends to take care of.”
            “Why do you have to take care of them?” Scorpius was sitting up and not pouting anymore, but smiling at Harry. “Why can’t you come over to our house sometimes?”
            And everything led back to the war. Really, Harry thought, this was why a friendship between him and Malfoy would be too hard. He had to drag Scorpius, an innocent, into a discussion that he and Malfoy knew every nuance of. Or he had to lie to him. Or he had to dance around so many things that there was barely anything they could talk about at all.
            “Because my friends were hurt by a bad man,” said Harry, glancing swiftly at Malfoy before he focused on Scorpius again. Malfoy just sat there with a calm, blank smile, as though he had never heard the story Harry was telling. “They have nightmares sometimes, you know? And they get scared. And they need to talk to someone. Sometimes they think it was their fault. So they need me there to tell them it wasn’t.”
            “Like when I have a bad dream and Daddy has to tell me I’m okay?” Scorpius had put his chin in his hands. It made him look absurdly older. It was absurdly cute.
            Harry was still determined not to let that influence him. This was so awkward.
            “Yes,” said Harry. “Exactly like that. They need me. It keeps me busy. And some of them—some of them know that the bad man had people like your dad helping him. It would hurt them if I went over to your house.” He turned back to Malfoy. There. That was as close to the truth as he would dance on his own. Now Malfoy would either have to put up or shut up.
            Malfoy only held his gaze, though, not seeming to feel the silent pressure to do anything in particular. His hand rested on his glass again, but he didn’t pick it up. He didn’t say anything and didn’t look away from Harry, either, until Scorpius broke in again.
            “But you could come over to our house sometimes, and just not tell them.” Scorpius was smiling at him. “You don’t have to tell everybody everything. That’s what Daddy says.” And he gave another adoring glance at Malfoy.
            “Such interesting things your daddy teaches you,” said Harry, holding Malfoy’s gaze. “No. Thank you for lunch, Malfoy.” He finished his sandwich with one more bite. “It’s been interesting. But this is too much for me.” He stood up.
            “Where are you going?” Scorpius cried in disappointment, reaching out with one hand. Several pairs of eyes focused on them from all over the restaurant. Harry hid a sigh. “You didn’t come over to see Golden! You didn’t explain anything to me! You didn’t say goodbye!”
            Damn it. Harry was opening his mouth to answer Scorpius when Malfoy broke in, “Mr. Potter is going to say good-bye, Scorpius, but he does need to get back to work. And I have to talk about something adult with him. Will you mind sitting here while we do it?”
            “Adult stuff,” said Scorpius, in the tone that said something was deeply boring, and flopped back with his arms crossed and his lip stuck out in that pout Harry had been trying to avoid. Then he peered under his eyelashes at Harry. “But good-bye, Mr. Potter. Will you come over and see Golden?”
            Harry had to smile back. “I don’t know, Scorpius. Good-bye.”
            He expected Malfoy to lead him out of the pub, but instead, Malfoy flicked his wand, and a privacy ward rose around them. Scorpius didn’t seem angry at being shut out. He sat back in his chair and ate some more of his sandwich instead, then separated two crusts and began to chop them back and forth, whispering to himself.
            “It’s not a joke.”
            “Fine,” Harry told Malfoy. “You said that before. That doesn’t tell me what it is, and if it’s even worth me spending more time here with you or not.” He folded his arms in challenge as Malfoy eyed him. By his reckoning, Malfoy had got almost an hour of fun out of him, if he was playing with Harry and being cryptic on purpose. It was time for him to give a direct answer.
            Malfoy hesitated long enough that Harry nearly turned away after all and left him alone with his secrets. But he saw the way Malfoy bit his lip and glanced down and to the side, and sighed. It reminded him too much of Ron and the way he sometimes reacted after his nightmares—the ones he needed Harry there for but was embarrassed about having—for his own good.
            “I saw you come out that day in the alley,” Malfoy whispered. “I barely recognized you. And I never would have thought that you’d care about someone who was threatening me, but so mildly. I thought—I thought this might be a chance to show you that I did appreciate what you did for me in the trials, and show that we don’t need to be enemies. I don’t hate you anymore. I don’t dislike you except when you say something that I think is arrogant or treating me badly.” He held Harry’s eyes. “I thought we could make a fresh beginning.”
            Harry blinked slowly. Fine, that made sense, but one thing still didn’t. “Why would you want to make a new beginning with me, Malfoy? If it was one of your friends that you’d drifted apart from, that I could see.”
            Malfoy’s face worked through some more complex emotions, but he ended up shaking his head. “You never wanted to change your fate? To make new friends?”
            “I have all the friends I can use, really,” Harry said. Again his mouth filled with the taste of mold and darkness when he thought about arguing with George, and he bowed his head. “Sometimes I think that I’m not a good friend to the ones I have.”
            “Is it only people who were hurt in the war who have a claim on your time and attention?” Oddly, Malfoy was smiling. “I can fulfill that criterion, if you do have it.”
            Harry made a brushing-away motion with one hand. Put like that, it did make him sound incredibly selfish. “It’s more that what I said before is true. My friends would be hurt by me going to the Manor. George is hurt enough that I came here today. We had a big fight about it. They’re all so scarred from the war, Malfoy, and it’s not fair, but you and your family were part of that scarring. I can forgive you for what you did, but with them, it’s not forgiveness and more just not wanting to have you around to remind them.”
            “All so scarred,” Malfoy repeated, so slowly that Harry opened his mouth to remind him about Bill, although it seemed stunning that he would have forgotten. But Malfoy’s eyes were on his forehead. “Not you?”
            Harry half-grinned. “I don’t have nightmares. I didn’t lose my twin brother. I didn’t get tortured like Hermione did. I wouldn’t say that I have it easy, when I see the suffering the war caused around me every day, but I’m luckier than some.”
            Malfoy said nothing, the lines of his face drawing down further and further. Harry eyed him curiously. Had he thought they could bond over shared trauma or something? An interesting idea, not one that the Malfoy he’d known would have had, but not one that would work. Harry really didn’t have trauma. He had stress and worry, like everybody else. He was just an ordinary bloke going about his life and trying to help his friends go about theirs.
            “I see,” said Malfoy at last. “Well, then. I would say that you might at least consider what it means that I’ve reached out to you, shaken your hand and received a gift from you and entertained you to lunch. That you might consider whether you can spare any of your time for me or Scorpius.” He brushed hair away from his forehead, eyes intent.
            Harry shrugged. “I like Scorpius. But I meant it when I said that my life is full, and it would anger my friends for me to go anywhere near you.”
            “To go to my house or invite me to your shop, you said.” Malfoy’s eyes had a gleam that made Harry want to snap back, but he held still, and Malfoy followed it up with, “And do you let them dictate what you do in your own home?”
            “Is there a custom for that, as well?”
            “Sometimes,” said Malfoy, sounding unruffled, “it’s good manners to invite someone who’s treated you to a meal over for a meal, as well.”
            Harry studied him, then snorted. He didn’t really care what insinuations Malfoy made about his behavior, and even the way he criticized Harry’s friends no longer hurt Harry. But he didn’t want to make it sound as though he was consumed by his friends, because that might make Malfoy say more hurtful things to them, and they had enough pain to deal with as it was.
            And Scorpius was cute, and Harry wouldn’t mind seeing more of him. Maybe he could even learn to like his dad.
            “Fine,” he said. “One-o’clock on Tuesday, then?” Tuesdays were usually the day of the week George liked to be in the shop by himself, testing pranks that he knew Harry considered too dangerous. And Harry liked to leave him alone, to sleep in late and give George some independence. It might never be much—ten years after Fred’s death, George’s grief was still paralyzing—but he had to have some time alone.
            Malfoy smiled as though he had won a prize.
            “That sounds fine,” he said. “I’ll tell Scorpius to bring his bird.”
            And his hand came out and clasped Harry’s in a way that made Harry roll his eyes, but also raised a strange spark of warmth, hiding deep inside his belly. At least he knew this wasn’t a joke to Malfoy.
*
delia cerrano: Harry would say he already has his hands full! But he’s going to have even more.
snape_lust: Harry just hasn’t been around a lot of people who aren’t straightforward in the last ten years. He doesn’t know why Malfoy won’t say outright what he wants, if he wants something.
Kat: Thank you!
Moon Whistler: Thank you! Here you go.
xikum: Thank you! Less focus on the traditions here, but Draco will bring them up a lot in the next chapter.
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There's a Pure-Blood Custom For That