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Say My Name	By : Thunderbird Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 30143 -:- Recommendations : 10 -:- Currently Reading : 8
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any affiliated characters. I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
A/N: Thanks for the reviews! It was interesting to see the disparate feelings you guys had about the goings on in the last chapter. I like getting different reactions from different people!
Here's a nice hefty one for you, with some fluff, angst, and plenty of Drarry development. Also be aware, this chapter contains some minor references to childhood abuse.
Chapter 7: Daddy Lessons
Harry awoke the morning of Halloween with visions of Draco still lingering behind his eyes. Dreams about the Slytherin happened almost nightly, although surprisingly they had departed from the realm of the sexual for the most part. Instead Draco was simply always present, like a shadow, or a familiar, or a part of Harry himself.
Harry was thankful a few minutes later when he remembered that it was Halloween, and that meant he would be getting a visit from Andromeda and Teddy that afternoon. If a friendly chat and a snuggle with his godson wasn’t going to make him feel better, it was likely nothing could.
He ran into Hermione in the common room on his way down to breakfast. She gave him a once-over, as she had been doing frequently for the past week, and remarked, “You’re cheerful this morning.”
“Teddy and Andromeda are visiting today!” Harry said. “Didn’t I mention it?”
Hermione looked a little crestfallen. “I hadn’t realized it was today. Ron and I were going for a date in Hogsmeade this afternoon, since it will be nice and decorated for the holiday. Should I cancel? I’d love to see Teddy.”
“No, don’t cancel. They’re coming around lunchtime, so you’ll get to see them for at least a bit.”
Hermione nodded. “Good. I don’t think Ron would be too happy if I changed our plans. He says he’s been wanting some alone time with me.”
Harry gave her an incredulous smile. “You two don’t get enough alone time already? You spend practically every night together.”
“Yes, well… that’s different. We’re… you know…” Her whole face went very red, and Harry’s grin widened.
“Say no more,” he said, waving his hands in front of him. “You know full well I don’t want to know the details.” He had started a strict policy with his two friends at the inception of their relationship. They could come to him with any emotional relationship topic, but sex was strictly off-limits. It was weird enough when he saw them kissing or holding hands. “You heading down to breakfast?” he asked.
“Actually, I was wondering if you fancied a walk,” Hermione replied, eyeing Harry carefully.
“Any particular reason?”
“Well, while you seem plenty happy today, I’ve noticed you’ve been a bit off lately. And you’re spending an awful lot of time with Malfoy, and I’ve noticed some things…”
“All right,” Harry cut her off, silently cursing her perceptiveness. “Let’s not talk about it here.”
Looking gratified, Hermione followed Harry out of the portrait hole. They snagged some scones and juice from the Great Hall and then made their way out onto the grounds, heading towards the lake.
“You and Malfoy seem to be getting on quite well,” Hermione said without preamble, once they were well out of earshot of any fellow student.
Harry had just taken a bite of scone, and used that as an excuse to stall before answering. Hermione waited patiently.
“It’s safe to say I consider him a friend, at this point,” he said finally.
“Hm.” Hermione nibbled on the corner of a scone, and thought that over. “I have to admit I didn’t see that coming.”
That’s nothing, Harry thought ruefully, to the real truth of it.
“But it’s almost like you did,” Hermione went on.
Harry had to take a few seconds to understand what she had said. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you quite happily volunteered to work with him on the Potions project, and you never once complained about him. You even defended him. And I notice the way you sometimes seek him out. It just seems like perhaps you were trying to become his friend on purpose.”
Harry didn’t know what to say to that. In a way, Hermione was right. Harry had initiated every stage of development in his relationship with Draco. But he couldn’t exactly explain to her that it was because he had accidentally caught Draco wanking, and found he liked the sight of it.
“I suppose at first I thought I might just bridge the gap between us a bit,” Harry hedged. “You know, try to put old grudges behind us. And then it turned out that he was really different from what I expected, and I realized I actually sort of liked him. And we talked more, and it just sort of… turned into a friendship.”
“Or, perhaps… more?” Hermione asked, her voice gentle and tentative. Harry looked at her sharply, and she gave him a small smile. “I see the way you look at him, Harry. And I see the way he looks at you. There’s something there.”
Harry fought back an embarrassed smile and shook his head. “You’re annoyingly observant, Hermione, you know that?”
“Yes, I’m aware,” she said, amused. “I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, Harry. But… well, to be honest, it worries me. Not that I think you’re wrong about Malfoy, or anything. I’m sure he has changed. We all have. But that’s just the point. We’ve been through so much, and this is all so fast.”
“I know,” Harry said. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. It just did.”
“So, you two are together, then? For how long?”
“No, we’re not together.”
“Oh.” She sounded surprised. “So then, you just want to be?”
“I do,” Harry said. He couldn’t believe he was admitting this all aloud. But he had to acknowledge that telling someone was a relief. “He doesn’t.”
“Oh. Huh.” Surprise remained in Hermione’s tone. “So, you told him how you feel?”
Harry sighed, realizing the inevitable. Hermione was going to get the whole story out of him, after all. She’ll make an excellent solicitor, he thought, with wry humor.
“It’s more that I… showed him how I feel.”
“You… kissed him?” Although Harry was looking straight ahead as they walked, he knew Hermione was gaping at him, wide-eyed. He was familiar with that expression.
“Yes, and did a bit more than that, besides.”
“How much more?”
Harry looked at Hermione with a wry smile. “Do you really want to know the answer to that?”
Hermione hesitated, then replied, “No, I suppose I don’t. But… if you two… did, you know… other things, then… was he… I mean, did he…”
“He consented, if that’s what you’re asking,” Harry said, balking at her. “I’m not a monster.”
“I know you’re not, Harry,” she said in a placating tone. “I was only trying to point out that he obviously is attracted to you as well, if he returned the… if he…”
Harry suppressed the urge to giggle at their awkward beating around the bush, then threw his head back, anticipating the oncoming humiliation. “We snogged, and used our hands, and such, to get each other off, all right?” he said quickly. “That’s what happened.”
“Ok,” Hermione said. “Thank you for clarifying.”
Harry groaned in frustration and embarrassment.
“Oh, come on, Harry, it’s only sex. We’ve all done it, so we really shouldn’t be embarrassed about it.”
“You’re like a sister to me, Hermione. I never intended to talk to you about any of this stuff.”
“Well, who else are you going to talk to about it? Ron?” she asked pointedly.
Harry grimaced. He could easily imagine the horrified expression that would come over Ron’s face if he ever learned what Harry and Draco had done in that classroom. “Fair point,” he conceded.
“So,” Hermione continued, looking satisfied, “you kissed, you did other things, you both enjoyed yourselves…”
“It at least seemed like he enjoyed it,” Harry grumbled.
“I’m sure he did,” she said. “But what happened afterwards?”
And so Harry told her the rest: how he had confronted Draco afterwards, and made sure they had a conversation, what was said, their agreement, and then Harry accidentally breaking their agreement while he was teasing Draco, and how upset Draco became about it. By the end he felt strangely better, although nothing had been resolved. He was still as clueless as ever.
They walked in silence for a while, Hermione deep in thought and Harry looking out over the lake, wondering what Draco was up to at the moment, and what plans he had made for Halloween.
“I’d never thought I’d feel this level of sympathy for Malfoy,” Hermione said finally. “But I find I do really feel for him.”
“I know, me too,” Harry agreed. “I want to be there for him. But I also… well, honestly, ‘Mione, I can’t get him out of my head. I think about what we did together, and I want more of that, but it’s beyond that now. I think… I think I really have real feelings for him.”
He could feel Hermione looking at him, but he continued to stare out over the lake.
“That must be really hard, Harry. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t know what to do,” he said. “I’m not sure Draco really understands how serious I am about him. I think he thinks it was just a lust-fueled encounter, and it happened because I just became single and I wanted to see what it’s like to be with a bloke. And since he’s been attracted to me for a while, he went with it. But he never took it seriously.” He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “I made a mistake, doing that with him. I should have gone slower. Maybe just a kiss, or just telling him what I wanted. At that point, I didn’t really know exactly what I wanted, in the long run. I just knew I wanted him, in the moment. But I shouldn’t have acted on it. It was a mistake.”
“Maybe,” Hermione mused. “But it happened, and you can’t undo it now.”
Harry smirked. “You don’t still have a time-turner tucked away in your robes somewhere?”
“They were all destroyed, you know that,” she said. “Besides, that would hardly fix your problem. You know that’s not how it works.”
“Yeah, yeah, all right. I was only kidding.”
“And there’s a very good chance that if you had never acted on your feelings, you wouldn’t have properly sorted out what they were.”
“No, I suppose not,” Harry conceded. “Still, where do I go from here? Should I try and tell Draco how much I care about him?”
“I don’t know, Harry. Sometimes, in these situations, words don’t mean much. I think if you want him to understand how much you care, you have to demonstrate it.”
“Like, through actions?” Harry had never been much for grand gestures, and he couldn’t be sure Draco was either.
“Like, through respecting his wishes, and taking him at his word.” She gave Harry a significant look.
“You think I should back off.”
“From the romance, yes. Not from the friendship, of course. But notice you’ve been the one pushing this from the beginning. He’s gone along with it, because he likes you, and he really does want to be your friend. But he’s never had the chance to take any initiative himself. I think you should give him some room to do that, if he wants to.”
“And if he doesn’t want to? If he never does?”
Hermione sighed. “Then that’s that, Harry.”
Harry scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Yeah,” he said.
“Think about it this way: Malfoy has made it clear he doesn’t want to lose you. If you push this, he might start to think that the only way to keep you is to enter into a relationship with you, even if he doesn’t feel ready to. Do you really want to do that to him?”
Harry bowed his head. “No,” he said softly. “Of course not.”
She took his hand. “Be patient, Harry. And just enjoy being with him. What follows, follows, right?”
Harry smiled down at his dearest friend, grateful to her, as usual. “Of course, you’re right. At this point, was there ever any doubt?”
“At this point, no,” she said, and Harry laughed. “Back up to the castle, then?”
“Lead the way,” he said, putting an arm around her shoulder.
***
Harry was glad for his chat with Hermione, though it was never one he would have initiated himself. It helped clear his head, at least for a little while, so that he could be ready to see Teddy and Andromeda.
His visitors arrived while everyone was in the Great Hall eating lunch. Harry heard the large doors open and saw the dark-haired woman, who always looked eerily like her sister Bellatrix upon first glance, cross the threshold, six-month-old Teddy wrapped around her hip. Harry smiled and immediately stood to greet them.
“Hello, Harry, dear,” Andromeda said, offering her cheek for a kiss.
Harry complied. “Andromeda. I’m so glad you could come.” He turned to his godson. “Hey, little man, did you miss me?”
Teddy immediately began fussing and squirming, reaching for Harry.
“I thought so,” Andromeda said with a smirk, and handed over the boy.
Harry took him happily, kissing him on the head and humming in agreement as Teddy babbled some nonsense at him and then grabbed his bottom lip. Harry laughed and blew a raspberry into the tiny palm, which quickly had Teddy in giggles, and the boy’s mousy brown hair turned a shade of black the same as Harry’s. Harry couldn’t help but grin at Teddy’s burgeoning Metamorphmagus abilities. “Come on and sit down,” Harry said to Andromeda. “Have you had lunch yet?”
“I had a little something before we left,” she said, following him to the Gryffindor table. Harry was aware that the hall had gone very quiet, and most of the students and staff were probably watching them, but he didn’t care.
“Dessert, then,” said Harry. “Everyone wanted a chance to spend some time with you. I hope you don’t mind.”
Harry sat down with Teddy, and Hermione made room for Andromeda next to her. The two women immediately got to chatting, although Hermione certainly spared a moment to coo at the little boy and kiss his pudgy cheek.
Teddy was the center of attention for the rest of lunch. He was mooned over by most of the Gryffindors, girls and boys alike, and a number of students from other houses came to say hello as well. Some were certainly welcome, like Luna Lovegood and Susan Bones, who Harry considered friends, while some were very clearly mooning over Harry as much as the child in his arms.
Harry immediately realized his mistake in having his godson come visit during lunch. He had learned from experience that there was apparently nothing sexier than a man holding a baby, and by having Teddy there with him he was just asking for more attention. He wished he’d thought it through a bit more.
Andromeda had gone off to the staff table to chat the headmistress and a few professors, but when she returned Harry suggested they make their way to the 8^th year common room.
“It’s a Hogsmeade weekend, and Halloween, so most of the students will be out. We should have the place pretty much to ourselves.”
“Sounds lovely, Harry,” Andromeda said. “I hope you don’t mind, but Minerva invited me for an early tea around 2. Would it be all right if I popped out for an hour around then and left Teddy with you?”
“Of course,” Harry said. He had spent plenty of time alone with his godson over the summer, and he was quite comfortable with it.
Harry got the three of them settled by the fire, and Andromeda took out Teddy’s favorite toys and books from the bag she carried with her. Students were coming in and out of the room for a bit, getting their cloaks and jackets before they ventured out to Hogsmeade, and many of them smiled and waved to Harry as they passed.
“Have fun, guys!” Harry called to Ron and Hermione as they left as well.
Finally, they were alone, and Harry kept Teddy on his lap, occupying him with the beloved stuffed lion toy that Harry had given him before he left for Hogwarts.
“I didn’t think about the fact that you might want to go out to Hogsmeade on Halloween,” Andromeda said. “I would have come another time.”
“Please, don’t worry about it,” said Harry. “If I’d wanted to go, I would have rescheduled. I’d much rather be here with you, honestly. I missed you both.”
“And we missed you. Sometimes, when he’s fussy, Teddy sort of looks around, as if looking for someone. I think that someone is you.”
“It’s hard to be away,” Harry admitted. “I didn’t think about how isolated I’d be, coming back here. I’m sorry we haven’t gotten together sooner.”
“Don’t feel guilty for wanting to finish school, Harry. We’ll manage all right until June.”
Harry smiled, and asked after Andromeda’s health, and the latest gossip, and they fell into an easy conversation. Harry even found his way to confessing that he didn’t think he wanted to be an Auror anymore, and was contemplating what he wanted to do with his life.
“Well, you have to choose the path that’s right for you, Harry,” Andromeda said. “No one else can make that decision for you.”
Harry nodded. “And most of my friends have been supportive. The decision did sort of lead to me breaking up with Ginny, though.”
“Yes, I heard a little something about that from Molly.”
Harry grimaced. He knew he probably should have written to Molly Weasley, explaining the situation, but he didn’t know if she would want to hear from him, and he definitely didn’t know what he would say to her.
“I can tell by your face that you feel guilty. Don’t. You’re young, and you just haven’t found the right person for you. If Ginny couldn’t be supportive of your decisions, then she wasn’t right for you.”
“You’re right,” Harry said. “I’m clear about that now. But it didn’t feel good, to end it.”
“It rarely ever does.”
Teddy squirmed and babbled on Harry’s lap, and he let the boy lay down across him, and tickled his tummy. Teddy wanted more, so Harry grabbed his wand and charmed a trio of bright birds to twitter in a circle above the boy, who giggled and grabbed at them happily.
“I will admit, selfishly, that I’m quite glad you aren’t planning to become an Auror,” Andromeda said, once Teddy was thoroughly occupied. “It’s clear that you will be very important to Teddy throughout his life, and the idea that something might happen, that you could be taken from him unexpectedly, it terrified me.”
Harry stared at the woman across from him. “Why didn’t you say anything before?” he asked.
“It’s not my place, Harry, to tell you what you should do with your life. Even if you are helping me raise my grandson, you’re young, and you’ve had such a hard life already. It’s important that you be happy, too.”
“I was thinking about Teddy, when I was making my decision. I mean, I was thinking about a lot of things, but Teddy was one of them. Aurors have a difficult schedule, and can be gone for days, or even weeks, at a time. I thought it might be hard to help raise Teddy, and hard to raise my own children, too, once I have them.”
“Well, I’m quite grateful,” Andromeda said.
Harry snorted. “I think most of the wizarding world won’t be so grateful, when they find out. It’s been printed in the papers that I’m aiming for an Auror position when I graduate.”
“The wizarding world can go fly a kite, as far as I’m concerned,” Andromeda said, with a dignity that much more resembled her other sister, Narcissa Malfoy, than Bellatrix Lestrange. “It’s your life, and they have no business telling you how you should live it.”
“Headmistress McGonagall said something similar,” Harry said.
“Well, Minerva is a wise woman. You should listen to her. And to me, as well, of course.” She smiled, and Harry grinned back. He had forgotten how pleasant it was to talk to Andromeda. It calmed him, even when it felt like everything around him was in turmoil.
“Speaking of which,” Andromeda broke into the silence. “I suppose it is about time for me to head in the direction of her office. You’re sure it’s all right for me to go?”
“Of course. We’ll be fine.”
“I’ll change him before I go. He probably needs it.”
Harry was happy to hand Teddy over for that task. He had learned quickly how to deal with dirty nappies, but it was undoubtedly the smelliest part of the job, even with magic to aid you. There were only so many spells approved for use around infants and toddlers.
“Teddy may get hungry in a bit,” she said as she calmly and efficiently vanished the dirty nappy and settled Teddy into a new one. “I’ve just started introducing solid foods, and there are a couple of jars in the bag. If he’s hungry, try one of those first. Then the bottle, if he’s being really fussy.”
“Sure,” said Harry.
“I’ll only be an hour.” Andromeda handed her grandson back to Harry with what appeared to be reluctance, although Harry was confident it wasn’t aimed at him. Andromeda was just used to having Teddy in her sight at all times. Harry knew that this little baby was the most precious thing in the world to her.
“Take all the time you need,” Harry said reassuringly. “We’ll be fine here. You know, if anything goes wrong, anything at all, I’ll send a Patronus right away.”
“Of course,” she said. With another kiss to Teddy’s head and a wave goodbye, and she left through the portrait hole.
“Well, little man,” Harry said to Teddy as he bounced him on his legs, “what shall we do now?”
Teddy stared up at him with bright green eyes and slobbered all over a couple of his fingers.
He put Teddy on a blanket on the floor for a bit, and let him practice rolling over. But the baby didn’t tolerate that for long. It seemed he really wanted to be held, so Harry settled him in his lap again and read a book to him, a durable tome with lots of pictures, charmed to be impervious to drool. But eventually he started fussing again, and nuzzling himself into Harry’s chest, and the man knew immediately what his godson wanted.
“Time for a little nap, huh?” he said, lounging back on the sofa and resting Teddy on his abdomen, so that his little ear was right on top of Harry’s heart. “This is my favorite, too,” he said softly. “Don’t tell anyone, though. I’ve got a reputation to protect.”
Reputation, ha! He chuckled to himself, careful not to disturb the boy, who was already starting to drift off. Harry focused on keeping his breathing nice and slow, matching it with the baby’s, while he ran a hand softly over his little head, down his back, and back up again. It wasn’t long before he was drifting off as well, letting his overworked brain occupy a space somewhere between dozing and waking.
He was so relaxed that when the portrait hole opened, he didn’t so much as flinch at the sound. He wondered if it was Andromeda, and if an hour had really passed so quickly, but then a tall, male figure came into view, and Harry realized immediately who it was.
Teddy writhed a little on Harry’s chest, perhaps in reaction to the spike in Harry’s heart rate that inevitably followed his looking upon Draco Malfoy those days. But Harry rubbed his back in little circles, and the baby calmed, going still again.
“Well, this is quite a sight,” Draco said, smirking at the pair of them.
“He likes it,” said Harry, realizing his voice sounded a bit dreamy. “I think it’s my heartbeat. It soothes him.”
“It soothes you too, it seems.”
“It’s quite relaxing, actually, having a baby nap on you,” Harry said with a smile. “You should try it.”
“Yes, I’ll just track down my own infant and give it a go, shall I?” Draco settled himself in the armchair across from Harry. “You know, he looks quite a bit like you.”
“For now,” said Harry. “He’s a Metamorphmagus, like his mum. For the first few months, he was changing his hair and eye color at random. Now he’s older, he automatically matches his looks to who he’s closest to at the time. Eventually, he’ll learn to control it, and change his appearance at will.”
“Hm,” was all Draco said in reply, and they sat in silence for a minute or two.
“You didn’t want to go into Hogsmeade today?” Harry asked, finally.
Draco shook his head. “I considered it, but, the novelty’s worn off a bit, hasn’t it?”
“Especially now that we can go whenever we want,” Harry agreed. “Not that I take advantage of that, much. Some of the other Gryffindors like to go down for drinks in the evenings on occasion. Some of them get pretty knackered. But I never really felt like it.”
“No, you don’t seem like much of a drinker, I’ve noticed.”
“I’m really not,” said Harry. He was thinking suddenly, of his Uncle Vernon, as well as Marge, Vernon’s sister, two people who became exceptionally mean when they’d had too much to drink. And that was saying something, considering they were already pretty mean to begin with. “Never really saw the point. Have to have my wits about me, most of the time. I got drunk, once, at a party celebrating Voldemort’s downfall…” He realized his mistake, and wondered if saying the name would bother Draco, but the Slytherin didn’t even flinch. “I was sort of the guest of honor, and everyone kept handing me drinks,” he went on. “So I drank them. But then I just felt awful, and I wondered why anyone would do that to themselves.”
“To numb the horrors of their lives,” Draco said simply. “To escape that which they do not want to face.”
“I suppose,” said Harry. “But, well, not to put too fine a point on it, but I’ve seen things as bad as anyone else has. Bloody hell, I actually died for a few minutes. That really messes with your head, you know. But you don’t see me stumbling around, making a mess of my life.” He was thinking of Ron, in the early days, struggling to make sense of Fred’s death through an excessive intake of firewhiskey. He nearly ruined his relationship with Hermione over it, and it took the trip to Australia to recover her parents for him to finally find an escape that would keep him sober. And there were plenty of other war survivors who still turned to the bottle for solace.
“I never thought I’d see the day you’d be self-righteous about something, Harry Potter,” Draco said, sounding more amused than disapproving. “But it seems that day as come.”
“I don’t mean to be self-righteous,” Harry grumbled.
“No, I like it,” said Draco. “It’s a reminder that you’re human.”
Harry wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything.
“Besides,” Draco added. “You’re right. You saw the worst of it. But you’re also stronger than most people.”
“I’m not stronger,” Harry argued. “I’m just grateful to be alive, and I don’t want to muck it up.”
Draco’s only response was an incredulous silence, but it didn’t last long. Their conversation had woken Teddy, and he was fussing about, now, kicking at Harry’s stomach.
“All right, all right,” Harry said to the boy. “Nap time’s over, I guess.” He lifted Teddy, who was really starting to cry in earnest. “What is it, little one?” Harry asked as Teddy’s face turned an angry shade of pink. “What is it that you want?”
“Does he need to be changed?” Draco asked, looking at the crying baby with something like alarm.
“Andromeda just changed him a bit ago,” said Harry, though he sniffed at Teddy to be sure. “I bet he’s hungry. Is that it, Teddy? Would you like some food? I bet your Nana packed some yummy things for you, hm?” He held a hand out to Draco. “Hand me my wand, would you?”
Draco did so, and Harry transfigured one of the end tables into a high chair and placed a still-fussing Teddy into it, making sure he was secure. Then Harry fished around in the bag and came up with two jars, one full of orange food, the other green. Teddy settled in his fussing, seeming to understand that he was about to get what he wanted.
“What’s it to be, Teddy?” Harry asked, holding up the two jars for the baby’s perusal. “Peas or carrots?”
Teddy smacked the orange-filled jar with his hand.
“Carrots it is.” Harry unscrewed the jar and started feeding Teddy by the spoonful. His godson wiggled happily in his high chair, and Harry couldn’t help a small chuckle.
“You are surprisingly competent with him,” Draco remarked, as Harry kept feeding the baby, occasionally dabbing at his chin with a burp cloth.
“I had to learn fast,” Harry said. “I didn’t know anything about babies until Teddy came along. But he’s my godson, and I wanted to be a part of his life. I know what it’s like to not have any parents, and to feel alone. I never want him to feel that.”
“From what I heard, your own godfather really cared for you,” Draco said, his tone laced with caution.
“He did,” said Harry. “But I hardly got any time with him. He was locked up in Azkaban for most of my life. And then, even when he was free, he had to be in hiding. I didn’t see him much, though he did write to me a lot. But then, well… he died.” Harry made an extra effort to keep his voice even, his attention focused on Teddy. “And that was that.”
Draco seemed to be at a loss for words, so Harry babbled on uncomfortably. “Anyway, the war’s over now, and even though Teddy lost his parents, he can have a happy life, and I’m not going anywhere. Things will be different for him than they were for me. I’m determined for that to be true.”
“I’m sure it will be,” Draco said softly.
“Do you have a godfather?” Harry asked. He’d never heard Draco talk about one, but then, he’d never asked before.
“Severus was my godfather,” Draco said. His voice was rough, and he cleared his throat delicately.
Harry looked at him in surprise. “Oh,” he said. “I’m sorry. That you… lost him, I mean.” Harry hated talking, or even thinking, about Severus Snape. The guilt weighed heavily on him, knowing the man had died to save him, and knowing now the way he had cared for Harry’s mother. Harry had tried to do right by Snape’s memory, using a combination of his own memories and memories Dumbledore had left behind to prove that Snape had been on the side of the Light for the whole second war. He had kept Snape’s more personal memories of his mother to himself, assuming that even in death Snape would never want them known to the world. He wondered, suddenly, how much Draco knew.
“It was… difficult,” Draco said. “But many things at that time were difficult. And I’ve taken some comfort in knowing he died a hero, and that he got a proper sendoff.”
“Did you know he was a spy for us?” Harry asked, purely curious.
“No,” Draco said. “No one knew what side he was really on, except for Dumbledore, and you, I suppose.”
“I didn’t know until the very end,” Harry admitted. “Dumbledore was the only one who knew the whole time.”
“Sometimes I think I should have guessed it.” Draco tilted his head, looking pensive. “Unlike my father, he never spouted pureblood dogma at me. Not when I was little, and not when I got to Hogwarts. I always thought that was strange, since I knew he’d been a Death Eater. Even after the Dark Lord came back into power, and Severus was basically his right hand man, the only thing he ever lectured me about was self-preservation, making sure I did whatever the Dark Lord told me to do in order to survive. I should have realized it then, that he was never one of the true believers. It was a wonder he even joined in the first place, being a half-blood and all. It was always a source of resentment, among the Death Eaters, that the Dark Lord favored a half-blood so highly. Many thought he didn’t belong.”
Harry snorted. “I can imagine. Although what they didn’t know was that Voldemort was really a half-blood, too.”
Draco stared at Harry. “What?”
“He didn’t exactly advertise it,” Harry said. “It wouldn’t have been good for his image. But his father was a Muggle, who his mother dosed with a love potion to trick him into running off with her.”
“His father was a Muggle?” Harry nodded, and Draco thought about that for a bit. “Hypocritical bastard,” he said finally.
“Well, yeah,” said Harry. “Although I think maybe his hatred of Muggles came from his father, since Tom Riddle Sr. abandoned his wife and unborn child once he realized what was happening. And then the mother, Merope, died in childbirth, leaving Tom Riddle Jr., the future Voldemort, an orphan.”
“How do you know all this?” Draco asked, dumbfounded.
“Once it was clear that I was the one who had to defeat him, I sort of had to make it by business to know all about him, didn’t I? Most of my information came from Dumbledore, the history, anyway. And a lot came from my interactions with him, and the fact that I was sort of connected to him, mind to mind.”
Draco’s face went very white. “What do you mean, connected?”
Harry stared at him. This had all come out at the start of the trials, as Harry had given testimony about how he had finally defeated Voldemort. But then he remembered that Draco had been in prison then, awaiting his own trial, and may not have ever heard Harry’s testimony.
“There was a piece of him, lodged inside me, from when he tried to kill me the first time. It was the reason I could speak Parseltongue, like him, and I could sense when he was nearby. And when he returned, I could see through his eyes sometimes… what he was doing, what he was feeling.”
“That’s…” Draco stared at Harry in horror. “That’s possibly the most disturbing thing I’ve ever heard.”
Harry shifted uncomfortably, and kept his eyes on Teddy again, who was starting to get tired of eating, it seemed. “It wasn’t exactly pleasant,” he admitted. “But it helped us win the war. And it’s gone now, of course. It died when I died.”
Draco shifted in his chair. “Is that why you… Did you let him kill you on purpose, to kill the piece of him?”
“Yes,” said Harry simply. Teddy was finished, and Harry wiped his mouth once more before plucking him from the high chair. He was aware that Draco was watching him carefully.
“Did you know you would survive the killing curse again, when you turned yourself over to him?”
“No, I didn’t.” Draco stared at him some more. “Come on,” Harry said, his face feeling hot. “Let’s talk about something a bit more cheerful.”
Draco tilted his head, and chewed on his lip, but finally acquiesced. “Very well,” he said, grinning. “There’s the Slytherin-Hufflepuff match coming up next Saturday. Care to make a wager?”
“Not on your life,” said Harry, very thankful for the change in topic. “Unless, you’re planning on betting against Slytherin. Then I will happily take the wager.”
“Smart man,” said Draco. “We’re quite good this year.”
“I know,” Harry said darkly. As usual, they were Gryffindor’s stiffest competition for the cup that year. “Why aren’t you playing this year? I thought I might get the chance to outfly your sorry arse all over the pitch one last time.”
Draco shrugged, not taking the bait. “Didn’t feel like it. I’ve got plenty of other things to occupy my time. Like my apprenticeship, and passing my NEWTs. That was enough for me.” He was staring at Teddy, who was doing a cute little wave at him, with amusement, and something that Harry thought might be longing.
“Do you want to hold him?” Harry asked.
Draco started. “What?”
“He’s your cousin, you know. Second cousin, or something.”
“First cousin once removed,” Draco corrected. “My children would be his second cousins.”
“Right. Anyway, he’s blood, isn’t he? Might as well get to know him.”
Draco still looked unsure. “I have no experience with children.”
“You’ll be fine,” Harry insisted. “He’s good with new people.” He stood and brought the baby over to Draco, who accepted him cautiously, like he was a very expensive and fragile family heirloom.
Harry watched cheerfully as Draco stared into Teddy’s face with a perplexed expression. “Hello, Teddy,” Draco said finally.
Teddy made sort of a “Bah!” sound, and then his hair turned platinum blond. Harry couldn’t see Teddy’s face at the moment, but he imagined his eyes had turned gray to match Draco’s.
“Will you look at that,” Draco said smugly.
“He likes you,” said Harry, and knew he could predict Draco’s response, word for word.
“Well, doesn’t everybody?” Draco smirked at Harry, and Harry rolled his eyes. “He looks quite good blond.”
“I imagine you think everyone would look good blond,” countered Harry.
“Not at all. You’d look absolutely awful, for instance.”
“I would, at that, I’m sure.”
“Really,” Draco said, with mock horror, turning Teddy around so he was sitting on his lap, facing Harry. “Don’t ever go blond. I have enough nightmares as it is.”
“That is a vow I feel comfortable making,” Harry said, choosing to ignore the comment about nightmares. They all had them, the veterans of the war. And there would be no question as to what Draco’s were about. Voldemort had occupied his family’s manor for the better part of a year.
Teddy started to fuss again, and Draco looked about ready to hand Teddy back in panic, but Harry picked up Teddy’s stuffed lion. “Here,” he said. “Give him this. He loves it.”
Draco looked at the toy in indignation but still handed it off to Teddy, who took it happily. “Starting on that Gryffindor brainwashing early, I see.”
Harry grinned. “Well, he’s got to carry on the legacy, doesn’t he, since his father and godfather were both Gryffindors. Or I suppose he could wind up a Hufflepuff like his mum.”
Draco pursed his lips with haughty distaste, although there was an amused glint in his eye. “I think we may have a Slytherin in the making, yet. Perhaps I will get him a stuffed snake to rival the lion, and we’ll see which he likes best.”
“By all means, bring it on,” replied Harry, and Draco laughed.
It was then that Andromeda returned, McGonagall not far behind her climbing through the portrait hole. Both women were chatting and had seemed to enjoy their tea together, but there was a brief silence as they caught sight of Teddy sitting in Draco’s lap.
“Hello, Draco,” Andromeda said, after a slightly awkward pause. Her tone was surprised, but perfectly civil. “What a pleasure to see you.”
Draco stood, passing Teddy back to Harry, and bowed towards his aunt. “Hello, dear Aunt. I hope you are well.”
“Very well, thank you. And yourself?”
“Very well, thank you.”
The tension in the room was palpable. Draco’s relaxed demeanor had dissolved completely, and he now resembled the cold and dignified Malfoy heir of his earlier years. Harry couldn’t help a stab of disappointment at the transformation. He knew it was because Draco was uncomfortable. His family was not exactly on friendly terms with Andromeda. But Harry thought it likely that Draco might want to remedy that, especially with his father now in Azkaban and unable to dictate who Draco and Narcissa should associate with. What he didn’t seem to realize, however, was that he would get much farther with Andromeda if he relaxed, and behaved more like his true self.
McGonagall broke through the awkward silence by making her way over to Harry, cooing at Teddy resting on his hip.
“And this is the wee lad,” she said. “’Dromeda, he’s absolutely gorgeous.”
“Yes, he is, isn’t he?” Andromeda said, visibly relaxing as she joined Minerva.
As the two women mooned over the baby in his arms, Harry turned to look at Draco, who was shuffling a bit awkwardly and not looking at them. Harry wanted to catch Draco’s eye, and say something, but he wasn’t sure what he could say, in front of the others. And then, suddenly, Draco nodded to Harry, turned abruptly, and left the room. Harry felt an ache of sympathy throb within him.
At the sound of the portrait hole opening and closing, the women turned to look. Then Andromeda’s eyes met Harry’s.
“I didn’t realize you were friends with my nephew,” she said.
“It’s a recent development,” Harry admitted. He might have told Andromeda more; he knew she could be trusted. But he was aware that McGonagall was listening in, and it felt strange to talk about his romantic life with his former head of house.
“I was never really allowed to get acquainted with him,” Andromeda said. “Lucius never approved of Ted and I, and he kept both Draco and Narcissa from me. It broke my heart, especially when Narcissa put up no resistance.”
“Things could change now, though,” Harry said. “With Lucius in Azkaban, and all.”
“Perhaps,” she replied, but sounded skeptical.
“Draco’s not like his father,” Harry insisted, aware that McGonagall’s sharp gaze was boring into him. “What you saw, just now, he’s not really like that. If you get to know him, you’ll see. He’s…” wonderful. “I think you would be pleasantly surprised.”
Andromeda eyed Harry, and he stared right back. “I’ll think about it,” she said finally.
“Good.”
“We really must be going. Thank you for the lovely tea, Minerva,” Andromeda said, turning to the headmistress.
“I’ll help you pack up, and then I’ll walk you out,” said Harry. He really wanted to track down Draco, and find out if he was all right. But he also knew that this would likely be his last few minutes with his godson before the holiday break, and he wanted to make the most of it.
“Tea next weekend, Potter?” McGonagall asked as she was taking her leave. “There is the match on Saturday, so perhaps Sunday afternoon instead.” Harry recognized the knowing look she was giving him. Hermione often sported a similar expression. He knew better than to decline.
“That would be great, Headmistress,” he said.
“Very good, then,” she said, and was gone.
***
When Harry next saw Draco, he seemed unaffected by the encounter with Andromeda. By this point, though, Harry knew better than to trust the impassive and often slightly bored expression that Draco wore in most circumstances. He knew, now, just how much Draco was capable of hiding with that expression.
Yet nor did he know how to make Draco feel better, if he was even feeling bad at all. Draco revealed his feelings only when he felt it necessary to do so, and rarely ever asked for help or support outright. Harry had no idea if bringing up the situation would be appreciated or resented, and so he kept silent on the issue.
But his conversation with Hermione remained with him throughout the weekend, and he knew he had to find some way to be there for Draco, and show him how much he cared, whether it was in this matter or another.
I need to do something that will make his life a little easier, he thought. And then he got an unexpected idea.
The book arrived one morning at the end of the following week. It was a heavy thing, and it had been expensive, but Harry didn’t see any other way. He had scoured the library top to bottom for what he needed, to no avail. He had even approached the acerbic Madam Pince, the school librarian, about the issue. She was surprisingly helpful, in the end; she knew the exact book he needed. But Hogwarts didn’t have it, so he had to order it himself.
Hermione leaned across the table with a curious expression as Harry unwrapped the package, reading the title of the book as it became visible: Treatment and Usage of the World’s Rare Potion Ingredients.
“I’d never thought I’d see you spend good money on a Potions book voluntarily,” she said, giving him a knowing raise of the eyebrows.
“It’s for my project,” Harry said, which was true, though he still sounded a bit defensive. Hermione wore a smug smile that irritated him. She knew that this was something to do with his feelings for Draco. At least she knew better to say anything with Ron sitting right next to her, though it might not have made a difference, as the redhead was busy shoveling food in his mouth and paying them little attention.
Harry was anxious to open the book and look through it, but class was starting in a few minutes, and he wanted to look through it without his friends breathing down his neck. So he stuffed the book in his bag and gave Hermione a reproachful look, which didn’t appear to bother her in the slightest.
“Come on,” he said, as Ron finally finished clearing his plate. “We’ve got Transfiguration, and I’d be pleased if Professor Khatar didn’t bite my head off again for being thirty seconds late.”
He didn’t get an opportunity to examine the book until after dinner. He fled to his room, having grown weary of the discerning expressions that Hermione had thrown his way all day. He was relieved to be alone, grabbing the hefty text from his bag and laying it across his thighs as he propped himself up in bed.
After checking the index, he flipped to the section on reptilian skin and found Agama quite easily. Hoping against hope, he began to read.
Harry wanted to remedy a snag that he and his Potions partner had hit the week previously. The Agama skin had turned out to be a disappointment, despite the high hopes they had both had for the ingredient. At first they believed they had done it after all; the skin had stabilized the potion considerably, and the rats they dosed all showed no negative side effects. But when they followed that up with tests to see if it could still effectively repair damaged magical cores, its potency had turned out to be quite feeble. This frustrated them both to no end, although Draco was the most vocal about it.
“I just don’t understand,” he had said over and over, flipping through the one and only text they had on that ingredient. “The effects should be the same, if not more powerful, than the Compacta.”
“Could the rehydration be diluting its potency?” Harry had asked.
They tried everything, even stewing the Agama skin without any rehydration treatment at all. That in particular had been a disaster, nearly destroying Draco’s cauldron, thanks to the praemium seeds that had been made to stew a little too long in order to soften the dry skin.
“We’ll just have to move on,” Draco said. “We’ll just have to let it go.”
But Harry had seen the intense dissatisfaction in Draco at that moment, and it had stayed with him, especially when all of the experiments with other substitute ingredients that followed had been failures.
Which was why he had done everything he could to track down more information on the rare ingredient, in the hopes that there was something they had missed and there was still hope for their potion.
Harry only skimmed the first few paragraphs, as it was all the basic information on the skin, which he was already aware of. But then he found the section on “Challenges and Misuses,” which looked much more promising:

There are few challenges one encounters when working with Agama skin, since the skin itself is rich in a collagen that acts as a stabilizing agent for most volatile ingredients. There are few safety precautions that need to be taken when working with it.

Well, that’s hardly helpful, Harry thought. But he kept reading.

However, in recent years sourcing has been an issue as the ingredient has become more popular. Many individuals that collect, process, and sell Agama skin have taken to trying to maximize their profits by extracting the magically potent oil from the skin before starting the dehydration process. This allows the supplier to sell the skin and oil separately. However, since the oil is what gives the skin its powerful healing properties, skin that has had most of its oil extracted has been shown in many cases to be ineffective in healing potions. Therefore, before ordering Agama skin, it is wise to research potential sources to be sure that one’s chosen supplier does not engage in such practices.

Harry stared at the page in disbelief. Had he actually done it? Had he actually solved their problem?
He had to find Draco.
Slamming the book closed and tucking it under his arm, Harry bounded out of his room and down the stairs, coming out into the common room. The 8^th years present looked up at his noisy entrance, but he didn’t pay them any mind as his eyes scanned the room for that familiar platinum blond head. He huffed in exasperation. Draco wasn’t there, though his three housemates were.
He didn’t feel like scouring the castle looking for him. He was too impatient for it. So he approached the three Slytherins, hoping that now that Harry and Draco were friends, the interaction wouldn’t be hostile.
“Hello,” Harry said, and saw three faces look up at him with almost identical neutral expressions. “I’m looking for Draco. I’ve got good news about our project. Have you seen him?”
He thought he caught a small smirk from Parkinson, and wondered what that meant. However, it was Zabini who answered.
“He’s in his room,” the dark-skinned man said in a dry, bored voice that seemed to be a prerequisite for belonging to Slytherin house. “He’s working on some very complex Arithmancy calculations and didn’t want to be disturbed.”
“Thanks. He’ll want to be interrupted for this, trust me,” Harry said.
Zabini somehow managed to look incredulous without changing his impassive expression one iota. “If you say so,” he said.
Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes and instead nodded a goodbye to the Slytherins, making for the staircase again. He reached Draco’s room and knocked soundly on the closed door.
“If that’s you again, Pans,” came a call from inside, “I told you, leave it alone.”
Harry smiled at the irritation in Draco’s voice, and called out, “It’s Harry, actually.”
There was a muffled scraping of a chair and footsteps, and Draco opened the door, looking confused. Harry smiled at him.
“I was told you were doing Arithmancy and I shouldn’t disturb you, but…” He held up the book for Draco to see. “This is worth it.”
Draco stepped aside to let Harry in. “What did you find?” he asked.
“The Agama skin,” Harry said, recognizing how excited he sounded. “The problem wasn’t with the properties of the skin, but the way it was processed by the supplier we got the skin from.” Draco watched Harry intently as Harry explained about the oil being extracted and the skin losing its potency. “It’s a practice that’s only started in the last few years. That’s why it wasn’t mentioned in that old potions book we used.”
Draco seemed to be absorbing Harry’s excitement by proximity. “So, you’re saying that the Agama skin may still work, if we get it from a reputable supplier.”
“Exactly,” Harry said. “It will require some research, though. I’m not sure exactly how we weed out the shadier suppliers from the reputable ones. After all, we thought our first source was legitimate, but they obviously sold us impotent skin.”
Draco nodded. “You’re right. You’re right…” He paced back and forth. “There may be a way… Can I see that?” He pointed at the book, and Harry handed it over.
Draco opened the book on his desk, and Harry watched over the blond’s shoulder as he rifled through it, turning to a section titled “Oils and Extracts.” There was information on Agama there was well, and Draco read it quickly, his finger sailing down the page. “Yes,” he said finally. “Yes, this will work.”
“What will?” Harry asked.
“We can add the oil to our rehydration treatment,” Draco said. “This says that the skin will reabsorb oil that’s been extracted if the skin is moist enough. It means we can use the skin we already have.”
It clicked for Harry. “If we order the oil as well. Then we can add it back into the skin at the same time we rehydrate it, and it will be as good as new.”
Draco turned to Harry, a massive grin splitting his face in two. “It’s perfect.” To Harry’s surprise, the blond placed an elegant hand on either side of his face and held him firmly. “You, Harry Potter, are a bloody genius,” Draco said, his gray eyes alight and boring into Harry’s.
Harry wanted to respond, but the intimate touch had his heart hammering in his chest, and the way Draco’s thumbs brushed the delicate skin under his eyes made him dizzy. His eyes flicked to the parted pink lips of Draco’s mouth, and he hoped, for a moment, that Draco would lose himself in the moment and kiss him.
But after a few seconds Draco seemed to come back to himself, his smile fading and the light in his eyes dimming. He swallowed, and took a step back from Harry, letting his hands drop. Harry had the powerful urge to whimper at the loss of contact.
“I’ll order the oil right away,” Draco said, turning away from Harry and returning to the book. “It shouldn’t take more than a couple of days. And then we’re back in business.”
“Sounds good,” Harry said, finally finding his voice, though it sounded weak and rough to his own ears.
Draco looked at him again. “This really was brilliant, Harry. How did you find out about this book? It’s a recent publication. I’d never heard of it.”
“Madam Pince,” Harry said, rubbing the back of his head and enjoying the praise a little too much. “I couldn’t find anything else in the library about Agama skin, so I asked her. She suggested I order that.”
Draco smiled softly. “That’s above and beyond. I’d given up hope on it.”
“I know. But I hadn’t,” Harry said, and he suddenly couldn’t help but feel that they were talking about something else. “I thought I might give it one more go.”
“And it paid off,” Draco said. He picked up the book and closed it, handing it back to Harry.
“Keep it,” Harry said. Draco’s brow furrowed. “No, really. I won’t have any use for it after this year. I bet it will come in handy for your mastery.”
Draco still looked confused. “Harry, you don’t have to-“
“I bought it for you,” Harry said, swallowing. “It was for you all along. Just… just take it. Please.”
“All right,” Draco said softly. “Thank you.”
They stood in silence, until Harry didn’t think he could stand it anymore. He either had to jump Draco right then, or get out.
“I’ll let you get back to your Arithmancy,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He turned to go, and barely heard it when Draco whispered, “Goodnight, Harry.”
Harry’s hand lingered on the doorknob for a moment. “Goodnight, Draco,” he replied, not letting himself turn back. He knew, somehow, that if he looked at Draco in that moment, he would never be able to look away again.
***
The weekend passed in a blur. The match between Slytherin and Hufflepuff was surprisingly exciting, Hufflepuff actually managing to hold their own well against their opponents and only losing by a one hundred and sixty point margin, much better than expected. Harry also had his tea with McGonagall, where they danced around the issue of his friendship with Draco while discussing his future prospects and what career he might want to pursue. Homework kept him plenty busy as well. Potions wasn’t the only class that had assigned hands-on projects, all of which had to be completed by the end of November, to leave a couple of weeks to study for End-of-term exams. This had all of the 8^th years grumbling, especially those who had internships or apprenticeships on top of their schoolwork.
The supremely challenging Potions project was the source of particular ire for most students, but not Harry and Draco. Thanks to their revelations of the previous week, they had a couple of major breakthroughs with their potion and were well on their way to finishing early. Draco had taken to looking perpetually pleased whenever they were working on the project, giving Harry smiles that made his insides ache pleasantly. Still, Draco was careful not to touch Harry again, stalling any forward motion Harry thought they might be making in their relationship.
It was enough to drive him absolutely mad, his longing for Draco. He couldn’t help but compare his feelings now to those he had had when he realized he wanted to pursue Ginny. The latter seemed to be born out of jealousy, not liking seeing her with someone else. What he felt for Draco was hardly as proprietary. It was more like a warm fire than a possessive green-eyed monster. It burned low in his navel all the time, steady, and pleasant, and unquenchable. It flared up, sometimes, unbearably, painfully, when he least expected it, when he caught a glimpse of Draco doing something totally mundane that was still somehow beautiful, because it was Draco who was doing it. In those moments it took all of Harry’s willpower not to pull Draco to him, to envelope him in the same warmth, the same fire, to make Draco feel what he felt.
I will go mad, he kept thinking to himself, as he and Draco made steady progress with the project. I will go insane, if this keeps up.
And yet another week passed and it was the same. Only the drop in temperature as they entered mid-November gave any indication that time was passing. Harry felt stagnant, his days blending together as the same routine of work, friends, Quidditch, writing to Andromeda, and obsessing over Draco plagued him day after day. He just wanted something to change.
And then the Sunday morning came where he regretted his wish.
It started out like any other Sunday. Harry let himself have a bit of a lie-in, recovering from yet another dream featuring his favorite blond Slytherin. Then he went down to breakfast, where he found Hermione and Ron already sitting. Hermione was chattering away about something or another, while Ron was eating and nodding his head. Harry smiled as he sat down across from them.
“Post arrived yet?” he asked. “I’m expecting a letter from Andromeda about Christmas plans.”
“Any minute now,” said Hermione. “It’s hard to believe the holidays are only a month away! It’s all gone by rather fast, hasn’t it?”
Harry couldn’t disagree more. He was looking forward to the break and the chance to get away from school and work and everything else for a while. It still felt ages away to him. But he only hummed vaguely and started heaping his plate with sausages.
It was only a minute later that the owl post arrived. It brought no letter for Harry, to his disappointment, but a rather a hefty edition of the Daily Prophet, which Hermione snagged and opened, as she usually did, always eager for information. She was quiet as Ron and Harry chatted about Quidditch, and finally Harry looked at her and asked, between bites of sausage, “So, what’s new in the world, Hermione?”
She didn’t answer right away, and she didn’t look at him. Her face was suddenly careful and closed, and Harry stopped chewing, a small stone of dread dropping into his stomach. “What is it? What are you reading?”
Still she said nothing. Ron, curious, leaned over and read along with her, and it only took a second for his face to register horror and disbelief, his eyes wide and his mouth gaping.
“What is it?” Harry asked again, nerves making his voice come out a growl. “Will somebody bloody tell me…?”
Hermione looked at him with watery eyes. “I’m not sure you should-“
“Fucking show me what it says,” Harry nearly shouted, grabbing the paper from her.
The headline was large, and bold, and brutal:
TRAGEDY AND TRAUMA: DISTURBING DETAILS OF OUR SAVIOR’S CHILDHOOD REVEALED!
By Rita Skeeter.
Harry’s blood turned to ice. No. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. Numbly, he made himself read on.
It was all there, every detail: the cupboard, the catflap on his bedroom door, the bars on his window, the ratty hand-me-downs, his aunt and uncle’s unwavering and vitriolic hatred of him and his magic, his cousin’s perpetual violence towards him, his lack of friends. It was all there, in print, for anyone to read. The dark, slimy underbelly of his upbringing.
There were quotes from interviews with Vernon, Petunia, and Marge, even a couple of his grammar school teachers. What Vernon had to say was unsurprising, just the same old rubbish from when Harry was a boy. How he had hoped to “beat that magic out of him once and for all,” and how he kept the truth about his parents’ deaths for his own good, and all that nonsense. The teachers were worse, somehow, describing him as “small, feeble, and lonely,” remembering his broken glasses and malnourished physique. They had never stepped in to help, though, finding him odd, seeing as how he was always getting in trouble for the strangest things. They never bothered to get involved.
There were even pictures. Some were wizard photographs, clearly taken recently, showing the cupboard and his old bedroom, where the catflap had yet to be removed. But there were a few Muggle ones of him as a boy as well, looking tiny and downtrodden. There was a haunted, hopeless look in that boy’s eyes that brought it all rushing back, like it was yesterday, and Harry swallowed down a mouthful of bile.
How had Skeeter gotten her hands on all of this information, all of this evidence? His relatives would never have voluntarily talked to a witch without a sizeable incentive; she must have paid them off. They were probably vacationing in Majorca at that very moment, reaping their reward.
He realized that he was shaking violently, and he dropped the paper, unwilling to read any further. He could see that the next section was some amateur psychoanalysis on the part of Skeeter, delving into the tormented psyche of the wizarding world’s boy hero. All it took was to spot the phrases “years of abuse and neglect” and “internalized beliefs about his own worthlessness” popping out of the page to know he wouldn’t be able to stomach reading any more.
He made the mistake of looking at Ron and Hermione, who were both looking at him with identical expressions of concern, fear, and… pity. Heart pounding, acid churning in his stomach, Harry turned and looked out across the Great Hall. He knew he wasn’t imagining it; many students were looking his way, that same pity in their features, while others were talking quietly to themselves, papers in hand, and casting furtive glances in his direction.
The shaking got worse. They were talking about him. They were all talking about what had happened to him. He should be used to it by now, but this was different. Because it had really happened, because it was the one thing he had counted on keeping buried forever.
He stood abruptly. He needed air. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t stay. He turned his back on his friends, practically running for the doors. He barely registered Hermione’s cry of “Harry, wait!” followed by Ron saying, “Let him go, Hermione.” And then he was in the entrance hall, pushing at one of the large doors and bursting out into the gray morning.
It was a bit too cold to go out in only jeans and a jumper, but Harry didn’t care. He made his way across the grounds, towards the lake, welcoming the chilly air filling his lungs and clearing his head. The panic had subsided as quickly as it had come. Now, he was seething.
So, this was Skeeter’s revenge. She had been put out when Harry declined an exclusive interview immediately following Voldemort’s fall, and Harry had expected consequences from that. But he had never realized she was this vindictive, this intent on destroying him. All of the other articles were child’s play compared to this last one, her coup de grâce.
Well played, Skeeter.
He approached the lake and took a right, seeking out a secluded spot where the bank met the edge of the forest. He settled himself against a tree, shivering a little in the cold. He conjured some of the portable blue fire Hermione had taught him, warming his hands for a few minutes before getting comfortable and staring out over the lake.
What was he going to do now? The idea of ever facing his classmates and teachers again was almost unbearable. He knew, no matter what, that they would all think of him differently, now. Whether they were disgusted, or upset, or simply felt sorry for him, it didn’t matter. His past, the one he had worked so hard to be free from, was going to follow him wherever he went from now on.
Hermione and Ron hadn’t even known all the details. They knew it had been bad, but they hadn’t known that it had sometimes been violent, especially in the few years right before Hogwarts. They didn’t know the way his aunt and uncle had constantly undermined his sense of worth through outright verbal cruelty and, even worse, underhanded psychological manipulation. Harry never talked about it, to anyone. He couldn’t help but wonder if his friends were upset that he had never confided in them.
Or perhaps they're just going to obsessively worry about me, he thought bitterly, and think I’m fragile and unstable for the rest of our lives.
Harry brought his legs up, resting his arms on his knees and closing in on himself. There was a ripple in the glassy water of the lake and Harry watched stoically as the giant squid poked a tentacle out of the water. He focused on that for a while, the way the tentacle breached the surface again and again in a fluid sort of dance, like a wave hello, and he felt his mind start to calm. Finally, he at least got to the point where he didn’t feel like punching something bare-knuckled.
His stomach grumbled, but he ignored it. He wasn’t about to go back to the castle for food. He wasn’t sure he could even stomach eating if he tried.
Eventually the squid disappeared, returning to the depths of the lake, and Harry watched the water until all the ripples had smoothed out and the surface was glassy again.
He was calm enough by then that the sound of footsteps approaching didn’t startle him. He knew, by the sound, that it was neither of his best friends. The footfalls were too heavy to be Hermione, but not clunky enough to be Ron. When they stopped directly behind him he turned and looked up, and was unsurprised to see Draco staring down at him with his usual impassive expression.
“May I sit?” Draco asked.
Harry nodded. There were few people in that moment that he would have been willing to talk to, but Draco was definitely one of them.
“I saw you rush out of the hall at breakfast,” Draco said conversationally, as he removed his cloak and hung it carefully on a nearby branch. He then conjured a cushion and placed it on the ground next to Harry so he could sit, making sure his hands and clothes never touched the ground. It was all so inherently Draco that Harry had to fight a smile. “I didn’t know if you wanted someone to go after you or not, so I hesitated. By the time I had made my decision, I didn’t know where you’d gone. It took me a while to track you down.”
Harry wasn’t sure exactly why Draco was telling him this, so he simply nodded.
Draco reached into the back pocket of his trousers and pulled out a folded up copy of the Prophet. “I assume this is what’s got your knickers in a twist?” he said.
Harry didn’t say anything, and stared at over the lake some more. He could feel Draco looking at him.
“Harry,” Draco said, his voice softer now. “You have… there’s legal recourse, you know, for things like this. You don’t have to let this leech get away with it. I can put you in touch with a solicitor I know who handles libel cases just like this one.”
Harry snorted. “Libel, huh?”
“Yes,” Draco said, and Harry looked at him properly for the first time that morning. Draco stared right back, and then realization dawned. “You’re saying it’s true?”
“Every word,” said Harry. “Didn’t you look at the photos?”
“I thought they might have been faked, or altered.”
“Nope.”
“Merlin’s bollocks,” Draco said under his breath, looking at the paper again. They sat in silence for at least a minute. “All right, then, new plan,” Draco said finally. “I’ll go to Surrey and murder your relatives, while you out Rita Skeeter as an unregistered Animagus and get her fired, and possibly thrown into Azkaban. Double revenge, yeah?”
Harry couldn’t help it; he actually let a chuckle escape his lips. “No need to resort to murder, Draco.”
“No one will ever know it was me,” Draco said. “I’ll use polyjuice, and a stolen wand. My mother will give me an alibi, no problem. She’d lie through her teeth for me.”
Harry knew full well that was true. “Thanks for the offer,” he said. “But I forgave them a long time ago.”
“Forgave them?” Draco said, aghast. “For all this?” He held up the paper again.
“Yeah,” Harry said, looking at Draco only to see the blond staring at him with an intensely furrowed brow. “I forgave. But I didn’t forget. As long as I never had to see them again for the rest of my life, I knew I would be able to move on. I don’t want to fixate on the past. There’s just too much…” He took the paper from Draco’s hand and shook it. “This is just the tip of the iceberg of the fucked up things that have happened to me. This isn’t even the stuff that haunts me, or gives me nightmares. This, to me, is old news. It’s meaningless.”
Draco took a moment to absorb that. “All right,” he said. “Then why did you get so upset about it being printed?”
Harry sighed. “Because it’s meaningless to me, but the way it sounds, the way it looks… I know what people will think when they read it.”
“What will they think?”
“That I’m broken, damaged. That I only sacrificed myself to Voldemort because of my intense self-loathing, or something. None of that is true. I’ll admit, it took me a couple of years to accept that I could have friends, even people who considered me family. It took me a bit to figure out I was worthy of love. But since I realized that, I’ve never had any cause to doubt it. I don’t hate myself, at all. I would be a lot more self-destructive if I did.”
Draco frowned, considering what Harry had just said. “I’m not sure that is what people will think.”
Harry snorted. “Really?”
“Did you read the whole article?”
“No,” Harry said. “I could barely stand skimming it.”
“Well, it’s…” Draco grimaced. “All right, it is quite terrible, really. She’s clearly savoring every little negative detail of your story. It’s sickening, to say the least. But then at the end… well, she does this bit about how you ended up the way you are, and she essentially comes to the conclusion that you must be a very extraordinary person, to have endured so much and still had it in you to save us all. She seems to imply that a lesser man, a weaker man, would have succumbed to rage and hatred and turned evil.”
“That makes no difference,” said Harry.
“Why not?”
“Because…” Harry had no idea how to explain it. “Because my childhood had nothing to do with me defeating Voldemort, positively or negatively, and it has nothing to do with who I am.” He realized he sounded petulant, but he couldn’t help it.
Draco sighed, and stared out across the lake, since Harry was doing the same again.
“My father was a right bastard, you know,” he said, after a few minutes. “He was horrible to me. I mean, not like what’s in here,” he held up the paper, “not violent, or neglectful. In fact, I never wanted for anything, when it came to material things: toys, brooms, sweets. But he was… withholding in other ways.”
Harry looked at Draco, and saw that, despite what he was saying, his face was calm and free of pain.
“I never remember a moment in my life when I had his approval. It was always ‘You can do better.’ And I don’t think I ever heard him tell me that he loved me. Not once. Perhaps he did when I was very small. But I have no memory of it.”
Harry was still watching Draco. He knew much of this already, or at least could have easily guessed it, but he was listening with rapt attention anyway.
“My mother overcompensated for his lack of affection by giving me anything I wanted, and showering me with love, and telling me I was the greatest person to have ever walked the planet. But it was never enough, because my father was my father. He was so powerful, and influential, and charismatic, all the things he taught me that a Malfoy should be. And I wanted to be just like him. So I made gaining his approval my life’s mission. The problem was, I was never going to get it. Because, while I had believed for a long time that he just simply didn’t know how to tell me that he loved me and was proud of me, the truth was that he withheld his approval on purpose, to make me work harder. He knew exactly what he was doing. And he was so good at it; he had me under his thumb from the beginning, and by the time I realized what he was really up to, it was too late. The Dark Lord had returned, and we were in his service, and I had no choice but to comply. Anything else meant certain death. And then he got himself chucked into Azkaban after the Ministry debacle at the end of our 5^th year, and suddenly I had to pay for his mistakes. It didn’t matter that it was unfair, or that I was angry at him. I had to do it, because he would kill us all if I didn’t.”
“I know,” Harry said softly. “It’s not your fault.”
“My point is,” said Draco, meeting Harry’s eyes, “I had parents. Two of them, proper, that on the surface did all of the things that a parent should do for their child. But they fucked me up anyway. They turned me into an insecure little brat who needed constant attention and cared very little for other people’s feelings.” Draco swallowed, and now there was real pain on his face. “You want to talk about self-loathing. I can’t stand thinking about how I used to be. It makes me sick, sometimes. But then I remember that I don’t have to be that. That I have a choice. It doesn’t have to define me.”
“Exactly,” said Harry, glad that Draco seemed to understand. “I don’t want my past to define me either.”
“It doesn’t define you,” Draco replied. “But it is a part of you. The only reason I know what kind of person I want to be is that I finally saw clearly, for the first time, the kind of person I used to be, and I worked to understand how I got that way. I couldn’t be truly free of my past until I accepted that it was a part of me. I know it doesn’t make sense, but it’s true. You’ll never be free of your aunt and uncle and what they did until you accept that it did shape you. It had to. There is nothing and no one in your life that hasn’t shaped you in some way. That’s the difference.”
Harry sat on that for a long time. Draco, for his part, seemed perfectly content to let him.
He had never thought about his past in the way Draco described it. He had always believed that by having his childhood be the one thing that he kept secret, that he would be able to keep it absent from his identity, therefore making it like it had never happened at all. Never again would he have to think of himself as that powerless and unloved little boy. But it could not be erased. It had happened. He had to acknowledge the truth of that, considering how upset it made him to even talk about it. Clearly he was still wrestling with it, internally.
Harry sighed heavily, suddenly very tired, and aware of the growing ache of hunger in his stomach.
“I can’t tell if I’ve made you feel any better,” Draco said.
Harry found himself smiling. “Was that the goal?”
Draco furrowed his brow and narrowed his eyes. “Of course it was.”
Harry kept smiling. “Surprisingly, I do feel better."
“Good,” Draco said. And then he reached out, tentatively, and took Harry’s hand, intertwining their fingers and letting their forearms rest against each other. Harry felt a thrill go through him at the contact. He didn’t think Draco was going to make another move, and try and snog him, but this was a start.
So, assuming Draco wouldn’t mind, Harry rested his head on Draco’s shoulder, and smiled when he felt Draco tilt towards him. They sat, and smiled, and breathed, and played with each other’s fingers as the morning waned.
A.R. Fleets: Yeah, Draco’s having a hard time of it right now. But he’s tougher than he looks. Plus, he’ll learn soon just how much it helps to have someone like Harry in his corner.
LLHati: I agree, more rutting! A lot of fics go from zero to anal way too fast for my liking. I figure these guys need to work their way up to it, especially since Harry’s never been with another man before. Glad you appreciated it!
Dedicated_Reader: You have captured the predicament perfectly. But as you can see, it’s all going to come to a head pretty soon!
djaddict: Lol you’re as impatient as Harry! Good things come to those who wait… but you won’t have to wait much longer :)
Jan: Glad you’re enjoying it! Here it is, as requested. I am trying to update weekly, and so far so good.
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