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Learning Life Over	By : Meander Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 69712 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- 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
- 47
- 48
- 49
Chapter 48- The First Tentative Steps

�� She said
yes.�

�� Draco
rolled his eyes and did his best to concentrate on the food in front of him,
toast smothered with marmalade and pancakes laden with strawberries, instead of
looking at Harry. The tone of surprise in Harry�s voice really was
almost too much. Had he really thought McGonagall would say no?

��

�� Of course
she did,� he said, and swallowed a mouthful of warmth and sweetness. He felt a
bit better as the two sensations trickled through his body from his mouth. He
hated the very idea of Harry visiting Hogwarts right now- Harry still felt
uncomfortable around strangers, so how would he react to the presence of places
he�d once loved and the memories of friends who still haunted him?- but he had
tried and failed to forbid it. He would go with Harry and do his best to catch
the pieces when Harry shattered. �She probably longs for you to come
back, Harry. You were one of her favorite students, after all.�

�� Harry gave
him a very strange look as he laid the letter on the table and then handed a
bit of bacon to the owl who hopped up and down near his wrist. �Of course I
wasn�t, Draco. Hermione was.� A faint, wistful smile touched his face, but, at
least that Draco could see, no shadow of intense grief. �Hermione was nearly
perfect at Transfiguration.�

�� Draco
raised an eyebrow as he sipped at his coffee. �You think she only valued
students by how well they did in classes, Harry?�

�� No.� Harry
pushed his glasses up his nose. �Just making the case that Hermione was probably
her favorite student, and not me.�

�� Draco gave
a short nod. He could live with that, as long as Harry wasn�t deriding himself
or thinking of himself only in terms of ability again.

�� Really, he
didn�t know why this itchy feeling crawled about under the skin of his
chest, or why he wanted to tie Harry to his chair instead of letting him go to
Hogwarts. Perhaps things had gone so perfectly so far that he believed a
disastrous change was due, and disasters always seemed to happen to Harry at
Hogwarts.

�� It�ll be
all right, Draco.�

�� Draco
looked up. He hadn�t realized his distress was visible. Harry leaned across the
table and punched his shoulder, his smile sharp and sweet.

�� I won�t
press myself too far, or intentionally stir up bad memories,� Harry went on in
a soothing voice. �And I understand that the visit will be hard on you, too.
You don�t have to come, you know. You can stay here.�

�� Draco
blinked. �I wasn�t thinking about myself,� he said. �I was thinking about you.�

�� Harry
nodded, looking steadily at him all the while. �I know, and I appreciate it,�
he said. �But still. You never saw Dumbledore�s tomb except in the pictures at
the trial, did you? That, and other things, will be hard for you. You�ve done
more than enough for me. If you want to stay here, I�ll understand.�

�� I want to
go with you.�

�� Harry
grinned, probably at the defensive tone in his voice. �That�s perfectly fine,�
he said. �I just wanted to make sure.� For a moment, he lifted his hand and
slid his fingers along Draco�s cheek. His face was wary and half-awed, both at
once, as if he were confronting a magical creature he didn�t understand.

�� Draco
turned his head and tongued at Harry�s fingers, wanting to get rid of this
too-serious mood around them. He was the one who was supposed to be comforting
the weakened and distraught Harry, not the other way around.

�� It wasn�t
that he didn�t enjoy the concern. But still. He was the one who had
managed to live a normal life all these years, while Harry shut himself up in
an emotionally isolated shell. That meant he should be the one thinking
of emotional dangers before they became apparent, and the one worrying. He
wanted Harry to think about himself, not Draco.

�� Sometimes.
Other times, he didn�t.

�� Being in
love is confusing, Draco decided, and the lack of shock he felt at his
wording was the best suggestion he�d received so far that, yes, he was most
definitely in love.

*

�� Harry
didn�t know what he expected when he Apparated to the edge of Hogwarts grounds.
Perhaps a tingle from the wards. Perhaps a rush of sadness and tears, as he
watched the towers of the castle rise in the distance for the first time in
more than a decade, and heard the barking of a dog that could be Fang.

�� He didn�t
expect to feel this odd, tentative sensation squirming in the middle of his
chest, as if he were home but someone had replaced the doors and widened the
windows. He took a step forward and stopped.

�� I�m right
here,� Draco whispered, squeezing his shoulder.

�� Harry
rested against his support for a moment, because, since he�d given everything
of himself over to Draco anyway, pretending he needed no help would be silly,
and then straightened and walked firmly up the path.

�� The grounds
looked brighter and quieter than they ever had when he went to school there; of
course, he�d spent a good portion of his time at Hogwarts in mortal fear of his
life or consumed with fears about classwork, so Harry supposed that wasn�t a
surprise. The white gleam of Dumbledore�s tomb made him pause for a moment,
then shake his head and walk on. If Draco can bear it, so can I.

�� McGonagall
met them near the entrance doors, and Harry had to pause again to study her
face. She hadn�t aged as much as he thought the cares of the last few years
should have made her do. Of course, perhaps the quick ending of the war, in
which Hogwarts was never directly attacked except for the Death Eaters�
entrance, had something to do with that. She reached out, smiling, and caught
one of his hands, shaking it firmly.

�� Mr.
Potter,� she said. �Harry. Welcome, welcome home.� She gave a loud sniff, and
then turned and faced Draco. �Mr. Malfoy,� she said, and Harry could make out
nothing from the tone of her voice.

�� Headmistress.�
Draco inclined his head, and his voice, too, was perfectly polite.

�� Harry
rolled his eyes. He could taste the effort the courtesy took for both of them,
and he saw no reason for it. �Do you hate Draco for what he did, Headmistress?�
he asked, and McGonagall blinked at him as if she couldn�t comprehend the
question.

�� I have
been given to understand that there were- reasons,� she said, and looked back
at Draco, who met her eyes without flinching.

�� Explanations,�
said Harry. �Very good ones, in fact. He was under an enormous amount of
pressure that year.� He stepped between Draco and McGonagall, bristling
slightly. He heard Draco make a soft annoyed noise behind him, but he didn�t
care. He couldn�t just overrule his impulse to protect the people he
cared about, however much Draco might hate it. �His parents would have died
if he didn�t do what he said he would.� He rested a hand on Draco�s shoulder
and glared at her. �And are you actually going to forbid him entrance to the
school now?�

�� No.�
McGonagall�s eyebrows crept a bit more towards her hairline. �I have been given
to understand that Mr. Malfoy was acquitted of all charges against him by the
Wizengamot.�

�� That�s
right,� said Harry, feeling an absurd surge of pride that money he�d donated
had managed to help with Narcissa Malfoy�s trial. �So he has a perfect right to
walk here, and to have a neutral reception.� He turned around and looked back
at Draco, who was watching him with his mouth slightly open. �And you have a
right to that as long as you don�t mess it up,� he said. �So, no sneering
remarks about Gryffindors, if you please.�

�� Draco shut
his mouth with a snap, and gave a nod, while his eyes shone with that same
complicated emotion Harry had seen the day he talked about what he�d done
during the war. �All right,� he said softly.

�� Thank
you,� Harry said, and then spun and stalked into the school. Draco followed on
his heels. McGonagall came after them, and Harry could practically feel her
questions in her slow steps.

�� He didn�t
care.

�� He�d just
stepped into the entrance hall at Hogwarts for the first time in years, and
memories swirled around him thickly enough to stop his breath. He realized he�d
come to a halt, and his vision flickered and dimmed. He coughed before Draco
could hit him in the back, and went on looking.

�� God, how
many times had he dashed through this hall with some ridiculous assignment in
his arms, late to a class? He and Ron had passed through here on their way to
visit Hagrid, having pointless arguments; it sounded stupid and soppy to say
so, but Harry would have given anything for five minutes more of those
arguments. Hermione had once carried so many books through the entrance hall
during their sixth year that they�d cascaded around her in a perfect fan
pattern; without missing a beat, she�d taken out her wand and enchanted them to
follow behind her in a procession.

�� And this
was only the entrance. Harry shuddered a little to think about what would
happen when he saw the Great Hall or Gryffindor Tower.

�� Are you
all right?� Draco murmured into his ear. �We could go back to the Manor, if you�d
rather.�

�� Strangely
enough, that was just the reminder Harry needed. Yes, the memories were thick,
but they were memories. He had to remember that. Ron and Hermione and
the rest of his family and friends were dead, and they weren�t coming back, and
he was here with someone he�d never thought he�d visit the school with.

�� I�m fine,�
he said, and turned to look at McGonagall. �Can I look at the Great Hall,
Headmistress? I assume the students are in class right now.�

�� McGonagall
nodded at him, the light glinting off her glasses. �They are, Harry. Please, do
look.�

�� Harry
stepped forwards, and through the doors. And there was the enchanted ceiling,
wheeling above him forever, perfectly enspelled to reflect the sunny sky
outside. Harry stood there for long moments, feeling as if he were falling into
blue. Then he looked down, and his gaze went to the Gryffindor table as if
nailed there.

�� All those
meals he�d rushed through, intent on getting to class, or because he was
uncomfortable and intimidated by the stares around him. He wanted them back.
He wished he could remember them better. He licked his lips, and told himself
the smell of pancakes didn�t really linger in the air, that he was imagining
things, and that even if it did, those wouldn�t be the same pancakes he and Ron
had eaten; the same students didn�t sit there now.

�� Draco�s
hand moved slowly back and forth along his spine, a warm weight. Harry wondered
if he were gazing at the Slytherin table, but he couldn�t turn and look.

�� Finally, he
turned and nodded to McGonagall. �I�d like to see Gryffindor Tower.�

*

�� Draco
frowned. The memories didn�t storm him the way they appeared to be doing to
Harry, but they were unpleasant enough. He hadn�t actually known Dumbledore�s
tomb would shine in the sunlight like that, a cheerful monument to the man he�d
worked so hard to kill, and he could have lived without the reminder that once
he�d sat just there at the Slytherin table and shoveled food he didn�t
taste into his mouth, brooding on the possible death of his parents and the
best way to get Death Eaters into the school and how Dumbledore kept escaping
the best traps Draco could design for him.

�� He wanted
to leave. He wanted to go home. He�d never had any urge to come back and
confront Hogwarts. He�d worked through his memories on his own.

�� But now
Harry was asking to see the Tower, and Draco wasn�t about to let him go up
there alone.

�� Of
course,� McGonagall said softly, and drew a key from her sleeve. It wasn�t his
imagination, Draco thought; she really did soften around Harry, in a way that
wasn�t just the fawning so many people did on the Man Who�d Saved the Wizarding
World. But she�d known him as a little boy and as his Head of House; Draco
supposed that might make her fond of him while removing the misty glasses that
covered the eyes of almost everyone else who looked at Harry. �There�s a
passage that goes up through the walls so that you can see the common room and
the bedrooms without intruding and having to explain yourself to the students.
Look for the door behind the statue of Hilda the Horrible on the sixth floor,
and then you�ll be turning to the right and watching for the holes in the wall
that let you see.�

�� Harry
looked pathetically grateful as he took the key. Draco shook his head. He could
have walked in like he owned the Tower, if he wanted. Most of the children in
Gryffindor now wouldn�t have met him. They�d have liked a visit from a real
live hero, and Draco had seen just how well Harry worked with children in his
cases as an Auror. Harry was being unnecessarily delicate.

�� But he said
nothing as he followed Harry up the moving staircases, remembering just in time
not to pass from one to the other without checking for sudden gaps and trick
steps, and to the door. Let Harry do as he wanted. Draco supposed Harry did
have to learn to be part of the world again, and not just Draco�s world of
flattery and soft conversations and dinner parties.

�� If only the
feeling in the center of his chest that insisted on disaster would go away.

�� The tunnel
twisted sharply up and to the right once they were in it, but it was clean and
free of dust. Draco couldn�t resist. �Suppose McGonagall used this to watch her
students wanking?� he whispered.

�� Harry gave
him a disgusted look, and kept climbing. A few minutes later, he paused and
touched the wall beside him with fingers that trembled. �This looks into the
common room,� he said.

�� Draco took
his free hand as he leaned forward and peered through the hole. He watched for
a long time. Finally, he stepped back and motioned that Draco could look in if
he liked.

�� A great
blaze of red and gold, and far too much orange for Draco�s tastes, occupied the
room. Students sat in front of the fire doing homework, or arguing over the
proper pronunciation of spells, or playing Exploding Snap. One card tower
collapsed as Draco watched, flinging sparks across the face of a red-haired
student who could be a long-lost Weasley cousin. The other boy playing with him
laughed and hooted, and Draco saw his dark hair.

�� No
wonder Harry pulled back so abruptly. He touched Harry�s shoulder
soothingly again as Harry turned and climbed up the tunnel towards the higher
regions, the twists of the passage paralleling the stairs to the bedrooms.

�� Harry
counted stairs under his breath, then pressed his eye against the wall again.

*

�� It was exactly
the way he remembered it.

�� Logically,
in the back of his mind, Harry knew that must be because there were five
sixth-year Gryffindor boys, just the way there�d been him, and Neville, and
Dean, and Seamus, and- Ron. It was a coincidence, and it was also a coincidence
that one of them had his trunk open and his clothes scattered messily around
the room the way that Seamus used to, and another had a broom propped casually
against the bed that used to be Harry�s. The curtains of all the beds were
open, and fluttering in the breeze from the likewise open window. Someone lay
reading on a bed, but not close enough for Harry to see his face or the title
of the book, though he could hear his mutters as he turned from one page to
another.

�� Harry
waited for his throat to close up, for the tears to ache and slide along his
face.

�� Instead, he
felt a strange sensation swelling in the middle of him. He had to blink and
hold still for a long time before he recognized the emotion.

�� Wonder.
Peace. Contentment, almost, that things could change, and people could die, and
life would still- go on. Perhaps that life wouldn�t even be very different than
it was for people who lived before the change and the deaths.

�� Voldemort
had done his best to change the wizarding world into a nightmare. He hadn�t
succeeded. Intellectually, Harry had always known that, but working as an
Auror, he�d seen plenty of things that could make him doubt it.

�� This-

�� This proved
it.

�� Harry
closed his eyes and leaned back into Draco�s embrace. Warmth seeped through his
stomach, chasing the last of the coldness away. Draco pressed a kiss to the
back of his neck, and that only confirmed the change.

�� He�d done
some good with his killing of Voldemort, permitting things like this.

�� There was
still happiness and cheer in Hogwarts, and he could let himself see it and not
be overwhelmed.

�� And people
could die, and- well, Harry hated that and wished they hadn�t died, but others
could go on. And so could he. It wasn�t betrayal that he�d survived, or that
other people felt happy. And he could be happy, too, if he wanted, which was so
simple and obvious a truth that he wondered how he�d ignored it for so long.

�� He turned
around and smiled at Draco.

�� Thank you,�
he said.

*

�� Draco saw
that smile, and the soft shine of those green eyes, and felt as if someone had
struck him in the solar plexus. He couldn�t even bend over and wheeze at the
shock. He stood frozen, staring at Harry.

�� If there
had been doubt before, now there was none. The moment he saw that smile, he was
gone.

�� He was
fiercely, irrevocably, deeply in love with Harry.

�� The
sensation of forthcoming disaster melted as he leaned forward, pressed his lips
against Harry�s, and murmured, �You�re welcome.� Everything would be all right,
as long as he could maintain this moment, this feeling.

�� And this
time, I won�t fuck it up.
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Learning Life Over