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The Heart of the Matter	By : Jad Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 7323 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
Notes:

This chapter was written ages before Tonk's official canon house (Hufflepuff) was made known to the general public. I still think she fits Slytherin better, anyway.

Chapter Four

I've never felt so lonely

Never felt so out of place

I've never wanted something more than this

- Savage Garden, Santa Monica

: : :

When teatime finally rolled around, Draco had long migrated back into his room, lest he find himself in a kitchen full of very unfriendly freckles and glares. Tonks had gone with him, tripping over half the steps and carrying a pile of her spare clothes—he'd found out the clothes he'd been borrowing were hers.

She talked a lot, and it reminded him much of himself back at school before the war. He wondered for a while how anyone could still be so happy; she'd told him she was going to be twenty-six that August, but she acted much like Pansy Parkinson had at the Yule Ball after ingesting far too much cake—like a hyperactive six-year-old. He found it refreshing and, more importantly, distracting, and he was grateful for her company.

When she'd told him she was a Metamorphmagus, he'd been incredibly jealous. He knew it had run in the Black family, but was still incredibly rare. Why couldn't he have been born one? Oh, the chaos he would have caused. She then amused him fully by, albeit a bit slurrishly, describing how she had done just that during her years at Hogwarts. Her favourite had been in her sixth year, when she discovered that impersonating Professor McGonagall and then attempting to teach first-years Transfiguration was a very, very bad idea and grounds to get one's self expelled. Dumbledore had apparently found the whole ordeal highly amusing and let her off, as long as she promised to ask permission next time, because impersonating people without asking could come off as a bit rude.

Draco felt like he hadn't laughed in years.

She was currently sitting cross-legged on the bed across from him and doing a very accurate imitation of McGonagall reprimanding a student. It looked rather silly because she'd morphed herself into a disturbingly accurate image of himself, despite the fact that she was a girl. When he pointed it out, she'd told him he was an easy boy to impersonate, because she had small breasts and they had the same cheekbones.

'I honestly don't have to do much, except for the hair and the nose,' she explained. 'You could probably get away with being a girl, if you put socks down your front. Small socks, mind.'

'I could not,' Draco said, mildly insulted.

Anyway, he didn't think her breasts were that small—but then he reminded himself that this girl was supposedly his cousin, not to mention ten years older than he was, no matter how pretty she was.

Also, he still technically had a girlfriend.

'It's not an insult,' she insisted. 'It's just a Black thing. Blacks always were very pretty. Like your mum,' she went on, looking at him fondly. 'My mum says Narcissa always was the prettiest of the lot.'

Draco smiled faintly but did not answer. She was right, of course; he'd seen pictures of his aunts, and met Bellatrix last year in person. His mother had made them all look rather unfortunate.

Someone thundered down the stairs just then, banging on the walls, pausing briefly at the door to hammer on it and shout, 'OI!' before galumphing down the rest of the stairs. Tonks perked.

'Ooh, that means dinner's ready,' she said happily. Pinching her nose, she turned back into her pink-and-spiky self. She hopped off the bed and looked at him, perhaps wondering why he didn't look so enthusiastic. 'Aren't you coming?'

'No,' he said. 'I'm not hungry.'

'You will be when you smell Molly's cooking,' she assured with a sympathetic look. 'Oh, don't look at me like that. They won't bite. Well, Remus might, but it's not a full moon so you needn't worry.' She winked at him and offered a hand up. 'Come on.'

'No, really,' he said, shaking his head. 'I'm not hungry.'

She pursed her lips and sat back down on the edge of the bed beside him. 'Come for company? It's not good for you, hanging around this dark room all day.' When Draco didn't answer, she followed it up with a pout for good measure. 'Please? I can't be the only drunk one at the table, it'll be horribly embarrassing.'

'I'm not drunk,' he said truthfully, but sighed. 'I'll—in a bit. Not just yet.'

She gave him a suspicious look. 'You promise?'

He rolled his eyes. 'Yes, I promise.'

'Yay,' she sing-songed in celebration. 'I'm glad I finally got to meet you; you're not so bad. You look good in those jeans, by the way, so you may keep them.' She stood up and swayed, but miraculously stayed on her feet. 'Oh, also, there's a very nasty drape in the master bedroom that keeps trying to strangle me and Remus in the middle of the night. You think you could, you know,' she waved her hand a bit, 'do that whole pure-blood business sometime and make it behave?'

'Sure,' he said. She was halfway to the door when he fully realised what she'd said, and he blurted, 'Wait—you two share a room?'

She turned around at the door and blinked at him. 'Of course we... ooh, you don't know, I totally forgot. Remus and I are, ah... well.' She beamed at him and blushed. 'I'm in love with him, basically.'

He gaped at her. 'But he—he's a werewolf!'

'Well-spotted,' she congratulated him. 'Now don't forget you promised to come down, or I will come back up here and get you. And if you make me climb those stairs again, I shall bring strapping young Weasleys with me, whom I've been assured would be more than happy to tie you up and drag you down by force.'

She smirked at the slightly dazed expression on his face. 'You're not the only Slytherin in this house, Draco Malfoy.'

And then she flounced out the door, leaving Draco gaping in her wake.

: : :

Draco got halfway down the stairs to the kitchen before he changed his mind about going to dinner.

The room was alive with noise. It sounded as if there were dozens of people inside; many of the voices were familiar. Potter's voice was the easiest to pick out, curt and inelegant, followed by the loud, vulgar tone of his Weasley boyfriend, underneath both of which there was the occasional snippy comment from Granger.

Tonks' friendly and slightly slurred voice faded in and out, and usually ended in giggling. But it was the startlingly loud and identical cackles of the Weasley twins that actually halted him on the steps, and he suddenly realised what he was walking into.

Enemy territory. Certain Doom. The Lion's Den—quite literally, in this case, as they were all Gryffindors. Half with red hair and freckles and had fathers that had attacked his father in public bloody bookshop.

In this brief, frozen moment of terror, he caught some of the conversation. His Inner Slytherin kicked in immediately and, terror be damned, bade him to stay and eavesdrop.

'Cannons'll cream 'em,' Weasley was saying loudly. 'Seriously, Allen's too good.'

God, Weasley, Draco thought, rolling his eyes. You are a besotted idiot with an orange fixation.

He sat down on the step by the threshold and managed to get an angle that allowed him to peer in without much chance of being noticed, and could see that Potter was shaking his head. 'Allen's not better than Lynch,' Potter told him. 'He mightn't be able to top Krum, but he's still a damn good Seeker. Do you even remember the Cup? There's no way the Cannons' Beaters will keep up with Ireland's Chasers.'

Draco thought, Weasley, listen to the speccy git. He knows what he's on about.

Then he realised that that meant he was admitting Potter had some intelligence, and scowled and hoped that the Cannons creamed Ireland this summer.

'So,' Granger said, cutting through the now-heated argument about whether the Cannons' pair were up to the challenge of Bludgering Ireland's trio, 'where's Malfoy? He's not still locked upstairs, is he?'

'Locked?' Tonks said, looking at Potter while spooning peas onto her plate. 'You didn't lock him in, did you?' She spilt peas all over her lap.

'Er, what?' Potter said, eloquent as ever, before catching up with the conversation. 'Um. No, I didn't.'

'Who cares?' interrupted Weasley through a mouthful of potatoes. 'Let him stay up there. I like him better when I can't see him.'

'You mean he's been up there for three days without food?' Granger asked, and Draco was horrified to note she actually sounded concerned.

'I brought him some lunch today,' said the person at the bench. Draco focused on the familiar voice and saw who he supposed must have been Weasley's mother; he'd only seen her twice, once when he was twelve and again on a newspaper cover, but if he had any doubts, they were washed away by her red hair. 'When I went and got the tray he'd eaten a little. I do hope he comes down, though, he's a growing boy. Needs more than tea and apples...'

'He'll be down,' Tonks assured her. 'Promised me he would. Or I will go and drag him down. By his ears,' she added, and promptly knocked over her pumpkin juice.

'Ooh, can we come?' one of the twins asked, entering the conversation.

'We've got rope,' the other offered.

'And we're good at grabbing ears, too,' added the first.

'Mum's given us lots of practice.'

Weasley snorted over his plate. Granger and Potter both exchanged looks and Granger frowned slightly, and it felt like an ice cube had slipped down Draco's throat into his stomach. Potter'd told her, then.

'You lot lay off,' Tonks admonished. 'He's had a rough few days. And he's really not so bad to talk to.'

Potter frowned along with Granger. 'You don't know him like we do.'

Tonks raised her eyebrows. 'Maybe that's why we got along.'

'Tonks is right,' Granger said suddenly, sitting up. 'I mean, he's a right prat, but he still did the right thing in the end.'

'Oh, is that right?' one of the twins growled.

'You want to tell that to Bill?' said the other. All the laughter had vanished from their voices.

'Bill doesn't blame him,' Mrs Weasley pointed out. Draco wished he knew who this Bill person was, and more specifically what he had supposedly done to him. 'And the rest of you shouldn't, either. I know he's not a very nice boy, but...' she sighed slightly, and looked fondly at Granger. 'Hermione's quite right, he did do the right thing, and you lot need to remember that.'

'I remember Bill,' one of the twins said fiercely. Ron and the other looked in agreement, and Potter's frown become even more pronounced.

'Well I won't have you picking fights at my table,' Mrs Weasley said firmly. 'So mind your tongue around him, or you can cook yourselves dinner.'

'Yes, mum,' they chorused, but looked as if they planned to do nothing of the sort.

'And anyway,' Mrs Weasley went on, turning back to the stove. 'He's lost his mum, the poor dear.'

'Oh, right,' Weasley said, 'like he'd give a damn if anything happened to you.'

'Ron—' Granger began.

'Oh, give it a rest, Hermione,' he interrupted. 'I'm tired of all this "pitying Malfoy" crap. He's just a prat. Always was, always will be. The only reason he didn't kill Dumbledore is because he's a bloody coward. Probably didn't even blink when he heard about his mum—'

'Leave it, Ron,' Potter snapped. 'You don't know what you're talking about.'

Weasley looked rather shocked and offended. 'Sorry,' he muttered after a moment, when Potter did not elaborate.

'Don't talk rubbish, Ron. You know Malfoy loved his mum,' Granger piped in. 'He always was really defensive about her. I mean, he's been really horrible, but... I don't think he would have used it as a weapon if anything happened to one of our mums.'

Draco normally would have been beside himself if someone claimed such a thing; of course he would have used information like that as a weapon! It would be the ultimate way to hurt someone, something like that. Especially in the Weasley's case.

Only now, Draco didn't think it was so funny anymore.

'Hermione's got it right,' Mrs Weasley said approvingly, then turned a hard gaze towards her sons. 'I want you to at least make an effort with him.'

Oh no, Draco thought. He had not sunk so low as to need pity from Weasleys. He decided he'd heard quite enough to make his decision about dinner, no matter how good the food smelt and how loudly his stomach as complaining; he stood up and turned to leave, and walked right into the biological equivalent of a wall.

It was easy to forget that under the tatty robes there was the steel body of a werewolf. This man did not need any more calcium, Draco decided. He felt quite dazed.

'Hullo again,' Lupin said, peering at him and raising an eyebrow. 'Done already?'

Scowling with his arms crossed over his chest, Draco was unceremoniously marched into the kitchen with Lupin at his back. All conversation immediately hushed and three pairs of identical blue eyes framed by freckles fixed on him like hungry lions.

'Hello, dear,' Mrs Weasley said, smiling at him. 'Come and have something to eat, you must be starved.'

Her sons quietly snarled at him, as if daring him to make a remark about their mother or her cooking that could be in anyway taken as offensive. Draco crushed the urge to recoil; it would have been pointless, anyway, with Lupin's hand on his shoulder. He was trapped between Weasleys and a werewolf. This was it: he was going to die.

'Have a seat, Draco,' Lupin encouraged him.

Draco looked at the table, which suddenly looked much too small when inhabited by Weasleys and their kind. There were two open seats: one between the twins that he was sure hadn't been between them before he was marched in the room, and one beside Tonks. But on the other side of that chair was Granger.

Between the identical madmen with intent to kill, or next to the Mudblood that was feeling sorry for him. Life was so very cruel and unfair.

'I'm really not hungry,' he offered to Lupin. 'Really. I'm actually—quite knackered. It was the Firewhisky. Blame your nymphet. I think I'll go have a kip.'

The edge of Lupin's mouth twitched, but he gave Draco a good push towards the table. Draco considered the conversation he overheard before he came in, and decided that Granger feeling sorry for him was a more comforting thought than the twins' apparent fixation with seeing his blood, and edged to the seat between her and Tonks. He stood there for a moment, hovering, wondering if he could make a break for the door, but Tonks seized him by the sleeve and pulled him down into the seat.

'Don't worry,' she said, slinging an arm around his shoulder and leaning over as three pairs of blue eyes homed in on him. 'I'll protect you.'

Considering that Tonks was rather small and thin compared to the three tall and burly Quidditch players—two of which were quite talented at yielding large bats—Draco, surprisingly, did not feel all that comforted. Instead, he felt his best chance for survival at the moment would be to clamp his mouth shut and stare at his empty plate, which Tonks began to laden with food when he made no move to do so.

Clamping his mouth shut was very unproductive when he was expected to eat, he soon found out. If he thought he'd sated his hunger earlier on two apples and a pot of tea, he had been sorely mistaken. It did not help his mouth-clamping resolve that the Weasley Mother seemed to be exceptionally talented in the catering department.

'Eat,' Tonks said encouragingly, through a mouthful of what appeared to be potatoes and peas. 'S'gooood.'

'It really is,' Granger offered from the other side of him, in a tone that was much too placating.

'Don't you dare talk to me,' Draco snapped automatically. It took considerable effort not to tack 'Mudblood' on the end, but he knew doing so would have earned him at least four black eyes.

Even still, the chatter at the table faded into a murmur at his words, and Draco instantly regretted not just silently ignoring her. Potter, straight across the table, was glaring at him through his glasses.

Weasley narrowed his eyes. 'Don't you dare talk to her like that,' he said.

Draco met his gaze and smirked. 'Or what?'

'Boys,' Mrs Weasley said serenely, reminding them at there were Adults Present and murder would not be tolerated at her dinner table. She focused her gaze on Draco and said, 'Eat, darling. You need to.'

'S'good,' Tonks reminded Draco, practically purring into his ear. 'Molly's potatoes are better than sex.'

Lupin, sitting between the twins and eyes on his plate, coughed quietly.

The twins broke into identical grins and Tonks quickly amended, 'Well. Better than sex with most.'

'This conversation needs to end now,' Weasley pleaded.

'I agree,' chimed Lupin.

'Eat up,' Tonks said to Draco, thumping him encouragingly on the back and grinning like an insane person.

Potter was smirking down at his food, Granger was giggling like an idiot, and the twins were winking suggestively at Lupin. For a blissful moment, the table seemed to forget that Draco existed. He considered eating his food. He even picked up his fork and twirled it experimentally a few times. His stomach cheered him on.

Then, Weasley said, 'So, uh. Malfoy. We heard about your mum.'

The table seemed to still as one. Only Draco's eyes moved, flickering up from contemplating his plate, and he desperately wished looks possessed the ability to kill. Weasley flushed slightly and swallowed, but was still very much alive. Weasley shifted uncomfortably in the sudden tenseness he'd created. He did not seem able to hold Draco's Avada Kedavra glare and wisely decided to ogle his peas instead. 'I mean—I was just going to—I'm sorry,' he finished lamely. 'I mean, it's. Really horrible and all.'

Mrs Weasley positively beamed at him—which of course had been what he was going for. Potter, on the other hand, was shooting furtive looks between the two of them, as if expecting one of them to leap over the table. Draco was seriously considering indulging him.

Mrs Weasley made a noise in her throat, eyeing the twins. They glowered at her.

'Yeah,' muttered one. 'S'terrible.'

The other murmured something that sounded vaguely like 'condolences' and Draco wanted to kill somebody.

He remained absolutely still and kept his eyes fixed on Weasley, who still wouldn't look at him. He slowly put down his fork and sat back in his seat, tilting his head to the side and folding his arms.

'You all seem to be under the impression that I desire your sympathy,' he said slowly. 'Let me assure you, I require nothing of the sort.'

Mrs Weasley's face fell; Lupin and Potter both looked up at him as one, and Tonks shifted uncomfortably beside him.

He went on: 'Some of you are suffering from the delusion that I did not strike down your dear shining Headmaster out of compassion. Some of you,' his eyes flickered to the twins, then back to Weasley, 'claim I did not succeed out of cowardice. Frankly, I don't care what you think. My reasons are my own. But let me make one thing perfectly clear.'

He paused briefly, and then continued, 'If I had known that lying sonofabitch did not have the capacity to keep his promises, I would have killed him without a second thought. If I could do it all over again, I would. Because none of you, least of all that old fool, have ever been keen to protect anyone except your own. I do not need you, or your help, and least of all your fucking pity. So do me a favour and quit the act.'

A long silence followed his words. Draco didn't take his eyes off Weasley, who was now glaring at him. The twins looked furious, and Lupin looked very tired and serious, but it was Potter who spoke first.

'You know what, Malfoy,' he said, sitting back himself. 'That's awful rich, coming from you. We're just keen to protect our own, is that so? Then what the fuck are you doing here?'

Draco was prepared to combat this, but Potter stood up and cut him off. 'No, you shut up and listen, and you bloody listen good. You mightn't had the bollocks to kill Dumbledore, but you still let DeathEaters into the school. Do you remember what you told Dumbledore on the tower? That you stepped over someone on the way up? Do you want to know who that was, Malfoy?'

'Harry—' Lupin began.

'No!' Potter shouted, standing up. 'He doesn't want pity?' He turned his gaze back to Draco. 'Good. You don't deserve it. That body you stepped over was Bill Weasley. Their older brother,' he tossed his head at the Weasleys present, all whom were scowling. Potter's hands were shaking so badly he had to ball them into fists and brace them on the table top as he spoke. 'He was going to get married in a few weeks, did you know that? And thanks to you, that might never happen, because your buddy Greyback thought it'd be amusing to tear into him even though it wasn't a full moon. And now the wounds aren't healing right. He won't ever be the same again, all thanks to you.'

Then Potter stopped and waited, and Draco realised everyone was watching him, and then realised they were waiting for him to say—what? How could he have—he didn't even... 'I didn't know Greyback would be there,' Draco said finally, voice oddly small. 'I had no idea.'

'Just like you had no idea that Katie Bell would touch that necklace,' Potter spat, eyes furious and hard. 'Just like you had no idea that Ron would drink the poison instead of Dumbledore. Just like you don't know that if I hadn't given everyone the rest of my Felix potion that night, that they'd all probably be dead. And in spite of all that, Dumbledore still offers you sanctuary, the Order is still trying to protect you. Even in spite of you nearly killing her son, Mrs Weasley is cooking your fucking dinner, and you—'

'I didn't know he'd be there!' Draco shouted back, standing and blindly furious. 'You think I'd have let that—that thing into Hogwarts? My friends were there, too, Potter!'

'Oh, so what?' Potter returned viciously. 'If you'd known Greyback was coming along, would have told Voldemort no?' The entire room flinched at the name.'Don't even fucking pretend like you give a damn what happened to anyone else except you and your stupid family, Malfoy! As long as your mum was safe, anybody else could—'

Draco had gone for his wand, but Tonks anticipated as much, grabbing his elbow; being an Auror paid off, because she was much stronger than he was. Lupin had already stood up and moved towards Potter, who pulled out his own wand, but it was a voice at the door that halted them all.

'That's quite enough, Harry,' Dumbledore said, stepping into the kitchen. 'I think you've made your point to Mr Malfoy.'

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The Heart of the Matter