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Nothing, Everything	By : Sasunarufan13 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 10224 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter nor make profit of it. J.K. Rowling owns it.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Author's note: Here I am with the next chapter!
Thanks to the following reviewers: SickPuppy (Who knows? ;) ) and Book_addict_89
Warnings: drama
I hope you'll like this chapter!
Chapter 8
Draco Malfoy was spotted with the youngest Greengrass daughter during lunch at the Golden Rose yesterday, the twenty-fourth of August. … Our reporter noticed how at ease both were around each other, dare she say even cosy? …
We wish we could tell you what they were talking about, dear readers, but a Privacy shield was erected around the both of them – which of course begs the question: why was a Privacy shield needed in the first place?
… As mentioned before, Mister Malfoy is no longer wearing his engagement ring. Our Hero, Harry Potter, informed us that his fiancé has taken to hiding his ring on a necklace underneath his clothes to protect it against stains. While this might have been the case originally, our reporter can state with a hundred percent certainty that no ring could be spotted on Draco Malfoy's person during lunch yesterday. Not even dangling on a necklace.
What does this mean? Is the engagement over? Is there any other reason why Mister Malfoy would not be wearing his ring? …
In the worst case scenario: is our beloved Boy-Who-Lived-Twice being cheated on by the Malfoy heir? We do not have any answers to these questions yet, but rest assured we will uncover the truth. …
… We can only hope that things are not what they seem and our most famous couple after Merlin and Morgana are still happily together.
Grey eyes scanned the article, skipping over some sentences while focusing on others. All the while irritation grew and fingers tightened around the edges of the newspaper. How the hell had he missed a photo being taken of him? Where had the reporter been seated that they had managed to get such a clear picture of that moment?
Guess I can't let my guard down in public, he thought sourly, lifting his gaze up from the Daily Prophet.
A freezing green stare met him as the owner sat immobile like a statue across from him.
"I didn't know there was a reporter there," Draco muttered, shoving the newspaper to the side. If he had to look any longer at that large picture and that stupid article, he would set the paper on fire.
Potter raised an eyebrow. "No, I figured you didn't," he said coolly.
"Look, I don't know what your problem is now," Draco retorted impatiently, casting a look around to see whether there was any coffee. He needed the boost it would give him. "It was just lunch with Astoria."
"Lunch that took apparently four hours," Potter remarked blankly.
"We already went over this yesterday, Potter," Draco said annoyed, flicking his wand at the can with coffee. It Levitated towards him, landing with a soft 'thud' next to his cup.
"You didn't mention lunch was with Astoria Greengrass at the Golden Rose."
"I told you I was discussing potions!"
"Yes, but not that you were discussing it with her!"
"What does it matter whether it was her or Blaise? What, you're jealous; Potter?" Draco asked mockingly, pouring coffee in his cup before placing the can back on the table. The dark, heavy scent of the coffee curled up into his nostrils and he breathed in deeply, wrapping his hand around the cup.
Potter clenched his jaw and glanced away, glaring at the newspaper. "I know what kind of connection you two had before, Draco."
Oh, well, he hadn't really expected that. It wasn't as if he had got far in his courtship for Astoria before he apparently decided that Potter was a better option for some god damn unknown reason. He knew there had been rumours, but he hadn't made any official announcement before he had got kidnapped. Had Potter been listening to the rumours?
"And if I know that, the papers surely know as well. I've done my best to keep your amnesia a secret, but with an article like this, they're going to start digging deeper and - "
"Why the hell does it matter whether they know about my amnesia or not?" It was a question which had been bothering him since the minute Astoria had let it slip that the papers only knew the barest minimum about the attack. Their lack of the knowledge certainly explained why they sounded so outraged in the article, defending the hero they had spurned many times before. Hypocrites, the lot of them.
Why would it be such a bad thing for the newspapers to know about it? He certainly didn't relish the thought of being hounded by questions, but it wasn't exactly a matter of life and death either. They might even back the fuck off or actually turn against Potter again and be on Draco's side. It wouldn't be the first time they switched their opinion on the dark haired wizard so quickly.
"Because I was trying to protect you and your business!"
Draco nearly choked in the sip of coffee he had just taken and he hastily set his cup down, smacking himself on his chest as he coughed. "Protecting me and my business?" he repeated in a rough voice, coughing for what hopefully was the last time. "What the hell are you on about? What does my amnesia have to do with my business?"
He knew that the git had quite the large hero complex, but this was just taking the cake. What did keeping his memory loss a secret have to do with protecting his business? Himself, he could somewhat understand; Potter's interference and lies had kept the press away from him so far. That was actually surprising, he realised, because normally the reporters didn't give up until they got their story. Maybe Potter had threatened them?
Whatever the case was, protecting him made sense somewhat, but he couldn't make head or tails of why his business needed to be protected as well. He had only lost his memories of their relationship, but his knowledge of potions and his recipes were all still safely locked inside his head. That had actually been the first thing he had checked after Healer Silver had informed him of his partial amnesia. He had used Legilimency on himself in order to ensure that his attackers hadn't stolen any other memories.
He only needed his knowledge about potions for his business to thrive; his memory loss had no connection to it whatsoever.
"Tell me, Draco," Potter began annoyed, "what do you think would happen if your clients heard about your memory loss?"
"Nothing would happen, because it doesn't affect my brewing skills," Draco bit out; his grip around the cup tightening slightly. Irritation continued to simmer in him, fuelled by how offended he felt at the question.
"You know that and I know that – but they don't. People are fickle as hell, surely you realise that? If they heard about your memory loss, they'd start doubting your skills regardless of what you'll tell them. They'd start wondering whether your amnesia doesn't extent to your potion knowledge as well," Potter retorted, shaking his head. "I'm not saying all of them would," he amended when Draco opened his mouth to reply, "but I didn't think you'd want to take that risk."
Draco frowned, closing his mouth as he mulled over Potter's explanation. It … actually wasn't that farfetched to think some of his clients would believe all his memories had been taken away. Some of them were rather dim-witted, but as long as they paid and didn't attempt to insult him, Draco didn't care how intelligent they were. Unfortunately those same dim-witted clients would start making assumptions if they heard about his memory loss. It would only take a few of them to start a rumour and Draco was well aware how quickly rumours could grow out of control. Even his good clients, the ones unlikely to be swayed by articles in the papers, could become wary and might try to test him. He would no doubt pass all their tests, but it would still be quite aggravating.
However that didn't mean he appreciated Potter trying to protect him like that. He didn't need his bloody protection; he could handle his business on his own. He had dealt with worse rumours before after all. Given his last name and the reputation clinging to it he doubted he would ever be completely free of rumours.
Not to mention, he thought with a mental scoff as he eyed the way Potter kept throwing scowls at the picture, I wonder whether he's really worried about my business alone or more about the fact that I was having lunch with Astoria.
"As if you care," he sneered; skin pricking uncomfortably at the idea that Potter was jealous over him.
"Believe it or not, I actually do," Potter replied, sounding tired; his shoulders slumping slightly. His own hand was resting idly around a glass of water. "I know how much you care about your business and I don't want it to suffer because of rumours."
"How noble of you," Draco commented disparagingly. "If I needed your help, I would have asked you for it. You sure you're not more worried about the fact that I was having lunch with Astoria? Jealousy doesn't become you, I can assure you."
Deep green eyes shuttered close and Potter abruptly rose up from his chair. "I'm leaving," he announced flatly, throwing on his red Auror robes. "You might want to be careful if you go outside. The press is already lurking there."
"What?" Draco uttered stumped and abandoned his cup of coffee in order to stride into the living room where he could shove the curtains aside to take a look. He reeled back almost immediately, scowling at the sight of various reporters lingering at the edge of the wards, unable to come any closer, but equally unwilling to leave.
The second they spotted him, shouting erupted. "Mister Malfoy, what's your statement about the article in the Daily Prophet?"
"Is it true that you're no longer engaged to Harry Potter?"
"Are you going to release an official press statement or - "
"Silencio Tumultum," Draco snapped annoyed and instantly a new ward enveloped the house, forming an invisible blockage against the reporters' shouting. The noise was drowned out, absorbed by the ward; he could see their mouths moving, their faces growing steadily redder and redder as they kept shouting their questions, but it was blissfully silent in the house.
"Told you," Potter's voice drifted over from somewhere behind him and he whirled around, his scowl intensifying as he gestured at the window in disgust.
"Can't you do something about it?" he demanded. Even with the ward, he was acutely aware of the mob outside and he had no desire to go outside while those cockroaches were still there.
Potter shrugged laconically; his hand coming up to snatch some files out of the air, which he had presumably summoned from upstairs. His robes looked plastered against his body, drawing attention to his rounded stomach. "If I could, don't you think I would have done so already?" he questioned resignedly. "Unless they actually attack or try to break through the wards, there's nothing that can be done against them. Except waiting them out. I at least managed to get them to agree to only wait in front of the house for one day, so tomorrow they should be gone."
"If you could get them to agree to only stalk the house for one day, why couldn't you get them to agree to not show up here in the first place?" Draco inquired irritated; his fingers twitching near his wand. "You have fame, use it."
"Freedom of press," Potter answered, sounding like he had had this argument plenty of times before. "My hands are tied, Draco. There's nothing I can do unless they break the law first."
"God, you're bloody useless," Draco growled, turning back to glare out of the window where three new reporters had joined the mass.
Not rising to the bait, Potter said brusquely, "I'll see you tonight." The sound of the Floo flaring up soon followed and Draco was left alone in the house with the reporters drumming as closely to the house as they could get without setting off the wards.
Great.
Any other day and the presence of the press wouldn't have aggravated him this much; after all he could still use the Floo and there was no way for the press outside to know where he would be Flooing to. Except today, instead of brewing, he had planned to go to a forest a couple of miles away from here. He needed to harvest some plants which only grew there in order to continue his brewing and the plants' characteristics made it so that Flooing was out of the question. If he took those plants with him in the Floo, all their properties would turn to dust – quite literally.
No plants meant no brewing and him being confined into the house unless he wanted to try to worm his way through that group of reporters.
He chanced another look outside and grimaced, stepping back and letting the curtains fall back into place. They looked a bit too fanatical for his taste. Considering the title which had 'graced' the paper's frontpage, he couldn't say he was surprised.
Frustrated, even angry, yes, but not surprised.
"Damn it," he sighed, rubbing his forehead. Well, there was nothing to it, he guessed. He would be spending the day here it seemed. It would at least give him more time to read through the rest of the book he had bought yesterday.
First, however, he would finish his breakfast.
After having eaten his breakfast and done the dishes – using magic, naturally – he settled himself on the couch in the living room, a cup of tea nearby and the thick book on his lap.
He was sitting in plain view of the reporters – his revenge on them. They could see him sitting there, basically right in front of them, but the wards wouldn't allow them to come any closer and the newly added ward prevented their noisy questions from being heard.
It was petty revenge, yes, but it still gave him a sense of satisfaction to witness them getting more worked up and desperate for an answer with each hour that passed by.
A soft 'hoot' made him look up and he quirked an eyebrow when a familiar tawny owl – even if he hadn't seen it in years – flew quietly to his side, landing on the coffee table in front of him. He stuck his paw out, showing off the letter tied to it.
"Didn't expect to see you here," Draco muttered, closing his book and placing it next to him on the couch before leaning forwards to accept the letter. As soon as the owl was relieved of his burden, he stretched out his wings, turned around and hopped over the table before flying away again, disappearing through the open window in the kitchen.
So he hadn't been instructed to wait for a reply. That only made Draco's curiosity grow.
'Dear Draco,
I know that it is perhaps not the wisest decision I can make at this time to contact you, given the recent events in the newspapers, but I wanted to offer my apologies.
I did not know that there would be a reporter present at the restaurant and I am not at all happy that they took that photo without us being aware of it.
That said, I am pretty certain that the potential backlash will fall more onto you than onto me and for that I apologise. It was not my intention to get this rumour mill set in motion and I can only hope the article and accompanying photo did not cause any trouble between you and Mister Potter.
Nevertheless I am still willing to lend you a listening ear, should you be in need of it. Perhaps it would be better, though, to have those conversations at a more private place in order not to create even bigger rumours.
Yours sincerely,
Astoria Greengrass'
It irritated Draco to no end that she was correct in wanting to keep their future conversations more privately. They shouldn't have to, though, because they weren't doing anything wrong. What was the issue with sharing lunch with a woman? Since when did a freaking engagement – one he couldn't even remember committing to – mean he couldn't eat with or talk to a witch? What right did the press have to create these rumours about him?
This was all just so ridiculous!
His scowl back into place, he folded the letter and stuffed it in the back of his book, before settling down again on the couch and picking up his reading where he had left of.
If he had to wait out the bloody press, he would at least do something useful in the meantime and continue his reading.
When Potter returned that evening, they didn't mention the paper again and ate dinner mostly in silence.
The last reporter left the street at eleven p.m.
"Andromeda firecalled me last night," Potter announced as Draco slipped his shoes on. The dark haired man was hovering in the doorway of Draco's bedroom, arms crossed on top of his stomach. "Asked me whether we would mind having Teddy over for the entire day tomorrow, because she's going to visit some friends."
"I don't mind," Draco sighed, snatching his wand from his nightstand and pocketing it. The little boy was more fun to be around than he had expected and having him at the house the entire day wouldn't be that bad.
"You ready to go?" Potter inquired, lowering his arms to the sides, and cocking his head faintly to the right.
It was time for their weekly lunch at Malfoy Manor and Draco wasn't particularly looking forward to it. There was no doubt in his mind that his parents had read the newspaper yesterday and he was certain at least his mother would have something to say about it. Father clearly didn't care about Potter and wouldn't give him shit about having lunch with Astoria, but mother was obviously fond of Potter – her fondness increased by the fact that the git was carrying her first grandchild – and she would most likely get on his case about it.
He would have skipped the lunch if he had a valid reason, but he still had to gather those plants for his potion and while he could use the search for them as an excuse not to go, Narcissa would point out that he could have collected the plants after their lunch.
An offended Narcissa was a dangerous one.
So Draco just had to grit his teeth, bear any possible scolding, and then he could go and harvest his plants. It was just lunch, he could do this.
"Lead the way," he muttered, closing the door behind him.
Potter barely had the time to open the jar with Floo powder before the flames flashed green and crackled loudly, signalling an incoming Floo call.
"Ron?" Potter questioned surprised when Weasley's head popped into the fireplace.
Draco barely resisted the urge to sneer; even the flames clashed with that horrible ginger hair.
"Sorry, mate, I know you're on your way to lunch, but you're needed at the office," Weasley said, casting a quick glance at Draco. The blond man stared back unimpressed and Weasley rolled his eyes before addressing Potter again. "You remember Alexander Rooks?"
Potter furrowed his eyebrows; his hand still lingering on top of the jar. "The first victim who lost his memories, right? Did he show up with more information?"
"He showed up, all right," Weasley replied grimly. His face contorted into an ugly grimace when he continued, "His wife found him dead in their garden. It seemed like he was killed somewhere else before being dumped there."
"Fuck," Potter whispered, running his hands through his hair.
"Yeah, so Kingsley's calling everyone for a meeting."
"Yeah, 'course. I'll be right behind you," Potter muttered and Weasley nodded before disappearing. Green eyes turned to look at Draco apologetically. "Sorry, Draco, but can you tell your parents I'm sorry I have to miss lunch? I can't miss this meeting."
The first victim was found dead? Most likely it was just coincidence – especially if he had been a Death Eater or was suspected of being one. The people who had attacked Draco probably weren't the only ones wanting to take revenge on Death Eaters. Better him than Draco, though, he decided remorselessly.
"Sure, go on. Your presence will be dearly missed," Draco answered sardonically, waving his hand dismissively.
The frown on Potter's forehead increased – and if he wasn't careful, his face would get stuck in that unfortunate look – and he appeared on the verge of saying something, before shaking his head with a sigh and grabbing a pinch of Floo powder.
"Griffin's Office!" he called out and was within a couple of seconds swept away by the green fire.
"Griffin's Office? How original," Draco muttered mockingly and snorted. Trust Potter and Weasley to come up with a name like that. They really had no taste at all.
When the fire turned green next it was to whisk him away to Malfoy Manor.
"You're not going to say anything at all?" Draco asked sceptically, nursing a glass of Elven wine; ignoring the buzzing of the bees in the rose bushes behind him.
Father had just gone back inside to deal with some correspondence, but Draco and his mother were still sitting at the table outside, enjoying the summer day now that they still had the chance. Soon it would be September and the weather would most likely turn foul then.
She raised an eyebrow and regarded him calmly, stirring her spoon through her cup of Earl Grey tea. "Am I not saying anything at all, dear? I thought we were having a nice conversation about your upcoming projects," she commented mildly.
He scowled at her, placing his glass on the table. "You know what I'm talking about. I know you read the paper yesterday," he said flatly. "You're not going to say anything about that?"
He had been anticipating her chiding from the moment he had set foot in the manor without Potter, explaining why the other wizard couldn't be present today. Lunch had gone by, together with a delicious dessert in the form of a strawberry cheese cake, and yet she still hadn't mentioned anything about the picture or the article. Her silence was enough to put him on edge.
The spoon paused and she crossed her legs daintily; her golden blonde hair glistening in the sunlight. "I read the paper yesterday, yes," she admitted, still infuriatingly calm.
"And?" He couldn't mask the undercurrent of impatience in his voice and he wished she would just hurry up with her scolding, so they could get past this.
"And what?"
He narrowed his eyes, distrustful of her flippant reply. "You're not going to scold me about it?"
She uttered a small sigh and took a small sip from her tea. The cup clicked softly when she put it back on its small plate. "Would that change anything? Considering your past with Miss Greengrass, I'm not entirely happy you chose to share lunch with her at that place, but you're no longer a child I can guide. All I ask is that you be careful."
"Yes, I know, Merlin forbid precious Potter gets his feelings hurt," he sneered, taking a large sip from his wine.
"I ask you to be careful for yourself, my Dragon," she said cryptically and before he could demand she explained herself, she directed his attention to the latest rumour she had picked up in the circles about Jonathan Breeks attempting to court a cousin twice removed of Pansy.
And that was all that was said about the article.
How anticlimactic. He was almost disappointed.
The sun was still high in the sky when Draco followed the road to the house he shared with Potter. He had just come back from the forest where he had harvested the necessary plants and he was carrying them in a large bag; each one sealed into its own container. He would need to send them to his lab on Monday morning, because even Apparition risked ruining their properties and he didn't want to delay the brewing of the potion any longer. The sooner that draught was done, the sooner he could focus on the rest of his orders.
At least the client paid well; that was the only reason why he was even brewing this complicated draught.
A 'pop' right behind him had him whirling around instantly, his wand raised in the air. As soon as his eyes fell on the mysterious person Apparating behind him he huffed in annoyance and lowered his wand again.
"What are you doing here, Granger?" he asked curtly, wondering whether Potter had invited her over. If he had done so, a warning would have been appreciated, the prick.
She quirked an eyebrow and pushed a lock of her stubborn, bushy hair back behind her ear. "I'm checking up on Harry. Ron Floo called me, saying Harry had gone home because he wasn't feeling well," she explained calmly, unperturbed by the fact that his wand was still in view. "Ron would have gone, but Kingsley still wanted to discuss something with him."
"What, Potter can't take care of himself?" Draco sneered, turning around again and continuing his trek to the house. Did the almighty Potter need to be pampered like royalty every time he wasn't feeling well?
"He can, but that's what friends are for, Malfoy," she retorted primly, easily keeping up with his pace. "Considering his fiancé seems more interested in a former courtship now than in his own partner, it falls on me and Ron to - "
"What the hell is your problem, Granger?" he hissed, glaring at her as irritation and anger spiked up. Only the thought that she would retaliate nastily kept him from calling her a Mudblood. "So just because I'm engaged, I can't have lunch with a woman now? Do you realise how ridiculous you sound now?"
"Do you realise how it looks like when you share lunch with the woman you originally intended to court in the same restaurant you took Harry to for your first date?" she threw back with equal vehemence, glowering heatedly at him.
It felt like all the air suddenly got punched out of his lungs. "I took him there for the first date?" he repeated incredulously, but before he could explore that particular revelation further, he suddenly became aware of a strange scent lingering in the air. "What is …" He looked around, trying to spot the source of the strange smell and halted abruptly when he saw dark grey smoke reaching out to the sky, rising up from …
Next to him Granger gasped in horror. "That's coming from your house!"
In unspoken agreement they both ran the last remaining portion of the way to the house, skidding to a stop when they saw various Aurors mingling around the place.
The first thing Draco noticed was the glaring lack of wards. No matter how hard he concentrated and sent out his magic, none of the wards responded to him. It was as if they had never been placed in the first place.
The second thing he noticed was the source of the thick, dark grey smoke. Not only were the wards gone, but the house too. There was nothing but rubble lying where the house had stood; several pillars of smoke rising from the crumbled stones.
The house had been blown up.
And Potter had been inside when it happened.
AN2: On a scale of one to ten, how bad is this cliffhanger? :D
Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me.
I see you all back on the eight of September in the next chapter!
Cuddles
Melissa
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Nothing, Everything