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Wooing the Reluctant	By : makochan0217 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 23188 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 12
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter book series is owned by JKR. I am not her. I make no money and I only plan to use her characters for some fun before returning them, much happier.

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Title: Wooing the Reluctant

Author: Makoto Sagara

Series: Harry Potter

Archive: the usual suspects (ffnet, affnet, Foreverfandom, my site, mediaminer, makochanupdates on LJ, thehexfiles, hpfandom, and the harrydraco community on LJ); anywhere else, ask first.

Pairing: Draco/Harry, past Harry+others, past Draco/others

Rating: NC-17 (eventual; this chapter PG-13)

Warnings: Slash, ooc, angst, language, humour, EWE

Disclaimers: I don’t own Harry Potter and his friends. They belong to a list of people, including the wonderful JKR, Warner Bros, Scholastic Publishing, Raincoat Books, and others. I’m only borrowing them for entertainment purposes.

Author’s Notes: Over two-thirds of the way through the story now. Yay! Thank you for the many reviews for this story. I adore you all. Jokes, you still rock my socks. Also, I blame any oddness in this chapter on the song “Peacock” by Katy Perry.

Chapter Nine —Listen Carefully to Your Intended's Needs and Desires.

Doing so ensures that they will want to listen to yours.

From the desk of Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt

17 July, 2001

Lord Malfoy,

It has come to the attention of the Ministry that your father, former Lord Lucius Malfoy, is extremely ill, or so is the word from the medical team of Azkaban Penitentiary. As he is refusing to be moved to St. Mungo’s or allow medical attention from the Healers at Azkaban, they fear that he will not live to the end of the month. You and your mother have my deepest condolences in this tragic time.

In light of this situation, I am offering you and your mother this one-time offer of transportation to visit with your father. If you are amenable to this, please reply by return owl.

Thank you for your time,

Kingsley Shacklebolt

343^rd Minister of Magic

P.S. Good luck with Harry. You’ll need it.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco shuddered as he led his mother through the cold, dank stone halls of Azkaban. Outside of the dreary prison, the North Sea raged in an impressive display of natural, watery fury. Through the magically protected windows, white foam and salty liquid splashed rapidly against the barred portals. He could feel his mother’s slight frame shiver next to him and he removed his light summer cloak to cover her own. He’d heard the horror stories of how Azkaban could suck the soul and sanity out of even the innocent sent to this rocky hell, but it was nothing to actually experiencing it. He could only be glad that the Dementors were gone and that this would be his one and only visit to the Wizarding prison ever.

The guards that escorted the two Malfoys were silent, and, other than the sound of the pounding waves, Draco could only hear the screams of the incarcerated. Not for the first time in the last few years did he feel immensely grateful for Potter’s testimony at his trial after the war, but this was perhaps the first time he didn’t feel intense self-loathing for his appreciation.

When Minister Shacklebolt’s letter arrived, Draco was certain that it was a joke—a cruel, tasteless joke. He’d said as much in his reply. So, when Minister Shacklebolt himself showed up at Malfoy Manor two hours after he’d written back, he knew that it was true. “Why?” he’d asked, feeling as if he was a five-year-old again and asking his father about the way the world worked.

“Harry asked me to allow this,” Shacklebolt said, his lone golden-hooped earring catching the sunlight and making a halo around his bald head. “I understand that he wishes for this to be his gift to you for your courting ritual. He and I are friends, and since he’s never asked for anything from me to play on his name before, I thought that this would be acceptable.”

“You mean that Harry Potter asked you to let me see my father and you just agreed?” Draco had been dumbfounded to say the least. When the Minister just winked and nodded, Draco felt a little bubble of hysterical laughter gather in his chest before he could quash it. “When can this be arranged?”

“You’ll need an Auror guard to get through Azkaban, I’m afraid, so it might take a few days. How does Friday the twenty-first sound?”

“Like I might be dreaming...” Draco shook his head and stuck out his hand for the black man to shake. He did, and his grip was surprisingly warm and firm, not the bone-crushing experience that Draco had been dreading. “Please let me know when we should be ready. I will inform my mother.”

That had been four days ago. True to his word, Shacklebolt had sent an owl two days later letting him know that a pair of Aurors would be arriving at the Manor on Friday, 21^st July, at ten a.m. so that they could escort the Malfoys to Azkaban. Since then, their group had been as silent as the grave.

A loud, pain-filled screech sounded and Draco reflexively reached for his holly wand, only to curse himself as he remembered that it had been collected, along with his mother’s, before they’d been allowed to move into the main part of the prison. “We’re almost there, Lord Malfoy,” the Auror in front of him said, giving him a tiny grimace that Draco wanted to return. However, good breeding made him keep his face blank as he continued to move down the not-so-silent halls. That and the fact that as they grew closer and closer to the lone grey-coloured door at the end of the hall his mother drew her body in more and more until she was nearly non-existent.

As the Aurors proceeded to knock some complicated pattern on the door to whomever was on the other side, Draco leaned until he could whisper into his mother’s ear. “Are you certain that you can go through with this?”

“Of course,” Narcissa replied stiffly, drawing herself to her full height. “I will not allow this opportunity to pass.”

“Mother, Father would not think any less of you if you needed to leave this place,” he said. “Nor would I.”

“I will not waste Harry’s gift to you like that. Lucius would think ill of me if I did something like that,” she whispered harshly before turning to face their escorts. “Besides that, how would I be able to look at myself in the mirror if I failed him now?”

I understand that, Draco thought, placing an arm around his mother’s shoulders as they walked through the door that had just opened. I feel the same way.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Harry grinned to himself as he sent off an owl to Draco, letting him know to meet him at The Dragon’s Hide—a secluded and exclusive restaurant he found in the small part of Wizarding Manchester—at half-seven the next evening. The proprietor was the father of a guy that went to Hogwarts with Harry and Draco, Stephen Cornfoot. It had been pure, dumb luck that Harry had stumbled across the restaurant at all. He’d just broken up with Lavender Brown and was avoiding the crowds in London. He’d taken the Floo to an open pub in Manchester that Hermione had told him about, but couldn’t stay there because of all the stares he was getting. He knew that if he stayed long, he’d be swamped by strangers.

So, he’d headed down a shopping district that was little more than a glorified town square and looked avidly at all the different establishments. It seemed that Wizarding Manchester was definitely geared more towards the younger crowds than the family-friendly Diagon Alley. Harry counted at least four clubs, three pubs, two theatres (one even being a Muggle movie theatre), a few bars and many restaurants and interesting places to buy anything from clothing, jewellery, books, and personal items. He stopped to stare at one spot that appeared to be a blank wall.

As he stared at it, the wall shimmered, revealing an old oak door with a sign blazing the name of the restaurant. When Harry walked in, he was surprised to see Stephen manning the maître d’s station. Instead of being fawned over because of his celebrity status, Stephen called his father over to introduce him as “a friend from Hogwarts in his year.” After that, Harry had been going there by himself at least once a month. He hadn’t even taken Ron and Hermione, but he wanted to take Draco there for their first date alone.

He didn’t know what was going to happen, but if the kiss they’d shared when Draco had given him the ring and that damn daydream were any indication, it promised to at least be interesting.

His lips quirked up into another smile as he thought about what occurred with the quill. It had taken two wanks that night to get to sleep after he’d managed a short letter to Kingsley.

Shaking his head, Harry tried his best to put that in the back of his mind. He wouldn’t see Draco until tomorrow night. Never had he been this anxious to meet up with a date before now. He found himself absolutely twitching to kiss the blond again.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco looked down at the Apparation coordinates for The Dragon’s Hide and focused on them before heading out with a pop. When he’d received Harry’s letter from Horus, he had smirked at the restaurant’s name. Of course, he’d heard about it before, but he hadn’t found the time to actually go and see what it was like. He’d always been too busy with where Pansy or Blaise wanted to go, and it was always to some silly new club in London or holidays on the continent.

The fact that he would be having a private dinner with his Intended was great, but the very idea of being in a restaurant that was so exclusive that one had to know about it before being allowed to enter was intriguing. Of course Harry would have picked a place like that to have their date.

He looked at the blank wall in front of him and had to take a step back as it shimmered to reveal the dark-stained door. Very nice so far, Harry, he thought as he opened the door and entered the restaurant. The décor was done in dark tones, with wall sconces every three feet all around the dining area. Three large crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, adding to the lighting, but keeping it from being overly bright. A few paintings that Draco could see on the walls were of dragons of all kinds and there was even the skull of a Hebridean Black above the bar area. Overall, the young Lord’s impression was favourable, until he took in the wait staff and the maître d’.

The young man at the podium blinked at him as if he knew him, and Draco tried to remember where it might have been that they’d met. I definitely did not sleep with him, so Hogwarts maybe? He took a better look and sighed in irritation. Brunet, brown eyes…vegetable last name, yes? Ah, Cornfoot, a Ravenclaw, tried to hex me seventh year. Wonderful.

“Malfoy, how nice to see you again,” Cornfoot said snidely. “Let me show you to your table.”

“No need,” Draco drawled. “I see my dinner companion already.” Ignoring the brunet man, he strolled through the half-full dining area to the corner table where Harry sat and smiled as he sat down across from him. “Harry, you look…” delicious, edible, incredible, “well. However did you find this place?”

Harry gave him a shy smile. “Completely by accident, I assure you. I was trying to escape the gaping crowds in London.”

“I’ve not been to one of the spots in here Manchester,” Draco said, looking through the menu on the table. “Perhaps later you can show me around?”

Harry’s cheeks grew pink and Draco had to smother the silly grin that wanted to break out. “I, uh, haven’t really been to any of the other places around here, but there’s a Muggle movie theatre nearby. Have you ever been to one?”

It sounds so trite, but I would go anywhere with him when he looks like that, Draco thought sappily. “No, I have not, but I’m not averse to trying something new. What is a ‘movie’?”

Before Harry could answer, a waiter—not Cornfoot—appeared to take their order. It was then that Draco realised that the food was a bit common, but it all appeared to be edible. He listened as Harry ordered a venison steak with a green salad, and when it was his turn, he ordered lemon sautéed shrimp with wild rice and asparagus as sides. They both ordered wine—a Chateau Briand for Harry and a pinot for Draco—as well. “I’ve never really cared for asparagus,” Harry mentioned offhandedly

“Perhaps I can change your mind,” Draco replied. “It is Mother’s favourite side, and we have it every year for Christmas dinner.”

“Hm, maybe,” Harry said before staring at Draco intensely. “I thought that this time we’d talk a bit about you. Parkinson and Zabini had to help me with your gift, and I’m ashamed to have to admit that, since for all intents and purposes we are engaged to be married.”

“Thank you for the gift, by the way,” Draco said calmly. “Mother and I appreciated the time with my father before…” He trailed off, unable to finish that sentence. “Anyway, what would you like to know?”

“Everything,” Harry responded instantly. “I mean, I know so little about you. I know that you grew up as an only child in a family of Dark Wizards. I know that you were a right prat at school and that you were completely spoilt by the time we met at the age of eleven. I know a little of what happened to you during our failed seventh year. However, my knowledge of you stops after the trials. Everything since then is rumours and innuendo.”

Draco fought with the opposing feelings of sadness that his Intended really only knew the surface of him and happy that he wanted to get to know him better. “Well, yes, I was completely spoiled by both of my parents growing up. My father never beat me or yelled at me growing up. I had pretty much whatever I wanted, but I was expected to earn the treats as well.”

“How?”

“By getting good grades with my tutors and spending as much time as was necessary to learn my duties as the heir to the Malfoy title, lands, and monies.”

“What do you do to keep yourself busy when you’re not thinking up gifts to send me?” If anyone but Harry had asked that question, they would have sounded self-absorbed, but the dark-haired man sounded genuinely interested, and Draco didn’t forget that this was an important issue for the Saviour, as he wanted a partner with their own interests.

“Aside from taking care of the Malfoy investments and addressing concerns with some of our renters in the nearby Muggle village, I still keep up on Potions research. I have a lab at the Manor that used to make Severus pea-green with envy.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Harry asked with a teasing smile.

“Not all of us can spend our lives being absolute rubbish in Potions and still get a spot in the training programme for Healers, Potter.”

“I was unaware that you were actually interested in becoming a Healer.”

Just as Draco was about to respond, their food arrived and they spent a few minutes sampling the food and making unimportant comments. After deciding that his dinner was more than passable, Draco answered Harry’s last remark. “I’m not interested in Healing, not really, to be honest. I am interested in Potions. That is Severus’s legacy, and I only hope that I can make my godfather proud of me from the beyond. Although, since our conversation at the zoo, I have taken an interest in the differences between Muggle medications that are issued by physicians and the Potions that are prescribed by Healers, and not just in your specialty.”

“Are you thinking of going for a Potions Mastery?” Harry asked, his green eyes twinkling mischievously.

“I have thought about it, truthfully, but I don’t really know anyone that would be worth my time to work with. I have no desire to work with St. Mungo’s or the Ministry, and private brewing would only get me undesirable clients.” He took a sip of his wine to clear his palate before he continued. “In fact, because of my last name, I’m sure that the only places that anyone would purchase my potions would be on Knockturn Alley.”

“How long would it take for you to complete your Mastery?”

Draco looked at Harry thoughtfully. Why are you asking this? Are you trying to gauge how interested I am in doing a stint for my Mastery so that I could brew for you? “Two years, as I had already started the apprenticeship with Severus over the summer before fifth year, with a break during sixth year, of course. In fact, with the way that school was our seventh year, that was all that I did.”

“How long is an apprenticeship?”

“Four years, if I recall correctly, but it really depends on the Master you work with. If Severus had lived, I would already have my Mastery.”

“I tried to save him, you know, but it was too late,” Harry whispered awkwardly. “There was nothing that anyone could have done by then. Nagini’s poison didn’t have an antidote, and I didn’t think the bezoar trick would work again.”

Draco snatched up Harry’s hand and placed a kiss to the smooth-skinned back. “I know that, Harry. You’re far too noble to let even Severus die the way he did. It’s not your fault, you know?”

“I know that. I just wish that I had been, I dunno, nicer to him when he was alive. He did so much to help me during the hunt and at the end; I doubt I could ever repay him. Getting his name cleared and a decent burial was the least I could do for Snape.”

“It was more than he would have received should the Dark Lord have won,” Draco whispered uncomfortably. This is the first time that we’ve discussed any such topics. I suppose that now is as good of time as any, but this is a very heavy topic to be discussing when all I really want to do is snog him senseless. “We don’t have to talk about this, if you don’t want.”

“No, I reckon we’d better do it now so that it won’t come back in bite us in the arse later.”

Draco nodded, seeing the logic in his Intended’s statement. They did have a lot of history that needed to be settled before their relationship could be taken to the next step, regardless of the other things that made them so compatible. He squeezed Harry’s hand that he still held gently. “Is there anything else you’d like to talk about?”

“When did you decide to help out with the War Orphan Fund?”

Here’s the important part. Draco bit back a sigh. It wasn’t going to be easy to as honest as he knew that Harry wanted him to be. It wasn’t even second nature for Draco to want to keep the information secret to put him in a good light with the other man, but he knew that if he withheld any information at this point, he would ruin any chance that he’d built up during the courting process. “Honestly, my mother was the one who got involved with the Fund back at its inception.” Draco gave Harry a smile when the green-eyed man continued to stare at him so earnestly. “I did help her with a few benefits and even signed a few cheques for the organization, but I wasn’t very taken with it. It wasn’t until I decided that I wanted to pursue you that I really thought about your Fund. It was a picture of Theodore and me that actually gave me the idea.”

“So, all that crap the Prophet printed was just that?” Draco watched as Harry’s jaw clenched and the muscles of his cheeks twitched in anger.

“No, I did mean that, and I’ve been working with the other members of the board to actually put into plan what I suggested.” Draco sighed as Harry’s eyes turned hard and his entire body tensed. “I do feel that if proper rules and laws were set in place then situations such as yours and Tom Riddle’s could have been avoided. They should have been avoided. James Potter was a pureblood, with ties to many other families. Surely there could have been a better family to take care of you than your mother’s sister, who I understand hated magic and those could use it out of pure jealousy.”

“I’m guessing Snape told you that?” Even though Harry’s voice was still tight, the lines around his eyes had smoothed out. Draco took a deep breath in relief, knowing that he was getting somewhere that would lead him out of trouble with his Intended.

“We had discussed it that last year while I was working with him,” Draco admitted. “In fact, I think it was in that time that I realised that my godfather was a spy for Dumbledore before that scene on the tower. It makes what he did for me all the more poignant.”

“He did it because Dumbledore was dying already and they both wanted to save you from becoming a murder. You were a prat and a bully before then, but you weren’t evil, no matter what Ron and Ginny thought. Hermione and I were aware that you were just doing what you could to save your family. It really angered me that Ron didn’t understand that when I told him and Hermione what happened on the Astronomy Tower considering how close he and his family are.”

Draco shrugged and let his opinion of Weasley go unsaid. “I’m sure that you understand that Weasley and I will never be the best of friends, Harry, so whatever you say about him to me isn’t going to endear us to each other.”

“I don’t want you to be the best of friends,” Harry grumbled. “I would just like it if you could be civil towards one another.”

“If I can be civil to your ex-fiancée, then I’m sure her brother should be relatively easy.”

Harry startled him by laughing. “You say that now, but Ron can be really stubborn.” A thoughtful expression crossed the other man’s face, but before Draco could ask him about it, he continued speaking. “Although, he was really supportive when we got back to the Burrow after the dinner at the Manor, which was a little surprising. I expected him to blow up, but then again, Arthur did tell him to shut up if he didn’t have anything helpful to say.”

“I never saw Arthur Weasley as being forceful. I’m not trying to offend anyone, but every time I have seen him, he seems a little cowed by his wife. Except for that one time he went against my father before second year.” Draco sighed quietly as he tried to think of how to ask his next question. “Ginevra seemed particularly hostile to me that day. She even went so far as to tell me that I wasn’t good enough for someone like you.”

Harry put down the wineglass he’d just picked up and grimaced. “Yeah, well, Ginny’s been against this since she found out. In fact, she seems to blame me for even accepting the courting as some sort of personal affront.”

“Do you mind me asking why the two of you are no longer together? I always got the feeling that you were going to marry her as soon as the war was over and things had settled down.” Yes, Draco thought to himself, that was gentle enough not to offend and to the point of what I really want to know. What in the hell did the Weaslette do to make you leave her, Harry?

Harry bit at his lip, drawing Draco’s sharp eyes to the full piece of flesh. He remembered how Harry had tasted the last time they’d kissed and the noises he’d made in Draco’s arms. Just as Draco was going to lean over the table to attempt another kiss, Harry’s voice brought him back to their current surroundings and the topic they’d been discussing. “I always thought that too, but…Ginny claimed that she wanted to work on her career first. I didn’t begrudge her that, so I agreed.” Harry licked his lips nervously. “We did get engaged, and she was picked up fairly quickly by the Harpies while I entered the programme at St. Mungo’s and Hermione helped me get into a Muggle university for the psychology classes I wanted to take.”

Draco didn’t press his Intended as he paused in his explanation. He’d learned that pressing Harry only got the opposite reaction he wanted, and at this point, setting Harry off would be worse than detrimental. Instead, he gently squeezed Harry’s hand that he still held and tried to give him an encouraging smile.

“She, uh, bloody hell, this sucks. I’ve never had to explain this before. Things were fine for a while. Probably the first six months of our engagement, but then I had to break dates with her so that I could attend seminars for both of my studies. She didn’t understand it and soon she started going out with her teammates.” Harry grimaced again and knocked back the rest of the wine in his glass before continuing. “She started sleeping around with her female teammates. It was discreet, of course, so I wouldn’t find out, but as I went to start the classes after winter break of my second year through St. Mungo’s, she confessed. She was as drunk as a skunk and blubbering the entire time when she did it.

“I didn’t yell at her. In fact, I didn’t say anything at all. I just asked her to leave my house and said that we’d talk later.”

“Is that when you broke your engagement?” Draco asked, silently applauding the Weaslette for her stupidity that left Harry free for him.

Harry shook his head, taking a few deep breaths and signalling the waiter for more wine. “Merlin, I wish this was Firewhisky,” he muttered. “No, I waited about a week before I invited her back to Grimmauld Place to talk things over. When I asked her why, she just said that she hadn’t wanted to wait until marriage to have sex and that she felt that I found my schooling more important than her.

“It turned into a huge row, where she accused me of all sorts of things. I just let her yell herself out, but I guess she wanted some sort of reaction that she wasn’t getting from me. That’s when she smacked me across the face.” Harry took his hand back from Draco and ran it down his face, as if to clear his thoughts. “It was then that I told her it was over and that she could keep the ring. It took me four months before I could even talk to her again.”

“And neither of you told anyone why you broke up? I remember reading that the two of you had grown apart, according to the papers.”

“No, I told Ron and Hermione, and I think Arthur may suspect, but everyone else has no clue unless Ginny told them.”

Draco sat back and pondered over what he’d just learned. If Harry did leave the Weaslette for her infidelity, I could see why she was so hostile to me, considering my history. What does she hope to gain by causing such a scene at the Manor and with her family? Does she want Harry to return to her? Or does she simply think that I would do the same thing that she did? It’s a preposterous assumption on her part. “Thank you for telling me, Harry.”

There was no verbal response from his fiancé, just a wooden nod of his head as he stared at the empty plate before him as if it were responsible for the change in the mood of their date. I have to think of something to change the atmosphere here. Before, even when we were talking about the war, it wasn’t this bad. “So, have you ever brought Weasley and Granger here?”

“No, I haven’t brought anyone here,” Harry said quickly, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment. Draco gave him a smug smile in return.

“Well, we could have afters, if you’re interested, or we could go exploring around this part of Manchester? It’s only nine. The night is still young.”

“I think I’d like that,” Harry responded, as Draco signalled for the cheque.

Excellent.

TBC
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Wooing the Reluctant