Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Embedded Secrets	By : Sasunarufan13 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 2085 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor make profit from it. J.K. Rowling owns it.

Chapter List
- 1-Embedded Secrets
- 1
Author's note: This is a birthday fic for Hikory. Happy birthday, hon! I hope you'll like your gift - despite the angst *coughs
Warnings: Draco's pov; MPreg; angst; slash; secrets; character death; might seem rushed near the middle but that's on purpose; not epilogue compliant I hope you'll like it!
Embedded Secrets
"Instead of gawking, why don't you go talk to him?" The exasperated voice cut through the buzzing of the people talking and the man resisted the urge to cringe, but only barely.
The flute glass with champagne created a sharp 'ping' sound when it was lowered next to him on the marble windowsill.
Draco tossed a quick glare at the woman joining him in the alcove. "Instead of harping, why don't you mind your own business?" he said in a snarky tone and straightened his sleeves; irrationally annoyed at the faint wrinkles in them.
Brown eyes rolled and regarded him unimpressed. "You're reaching the dangerous state of being pathetic beyond words," Pansy informed him idly and the golden bracelets around her right wrist glittered when she absentmindedly pushed a curled lock behind her ear. Her brown hair was curled and pinned up, revealing her slender, pale neck adorning a thin, golden necklace.
"Don't you have a wizard or witch to seduce?" he sneered and glowered; his grip on his own glass tightening imperceptibly.
"This event lacks interesting and attractive people," she told him and added as an afterthought, "Well, except for Potter, so I suppose I - "
His angry hiss bordering on a snarl made a smirk bloom on her face.
"Touchy," she said in a sing-song voice and then sobered up. "Really, darling, pining isn't very attractive."
He opened his mouth to offer a sharp rebuff, but was distracted by the sound of familiar laughter reaching his ears. His attention was drawn towards the source of the laughter and unwillingly he relaxed.
The one who had attracted his attention stood twenty feet further and was animatedly talking to a wizard with salt and pepper coloured hair. His black hair was as messy as ever, but it suited him. His blazing green eyes were framed by a pair of thin, silver glasses; his old, ugly pair had been thrown away three years ago. The man was dressed in midnight blue robes of which the sleeves were trimmed with silver; his entire outfit screamed 'high quality'.
"Come on, what do you have to lose?" Pansy said exasperatedly and gestured nonchalantly at the dark haired man.
"My dignity and the small scrap of respect I have left," Draco deadpanned and took a sip to drown the bitterness.
"You don't think highly of him if you think he's going to mock you," she hummed.
"It's not him that I worry about – well, not really. It's just that …" He sighed frustrated, struggling to find words to describe what he felt.
He wasn't really afraid that Potter would taunt him or make fun of him – not really. It was just that since the war their interactions were limited to mainly exchanging polite nods and the occasional 'good morning/afternoon/evening' when they passed each other in the corridors of the Ministry. They didn't stop to talk with each other; he often only saw Potter from a distance. Yet despite their past and their odd politeness now – or maybe because of those aspects he found himself becoming more and more interested in Potter – even more than he had been in Hogwarts. It wasn't until he had been nearly out of his mind with worry, pacing a hole in the carpet of his office, after hearing that Potter had been seriously hurt after a raid gone wrong that the blond realised that his fascination with the green eyed man went further than just wanting to be friends with him. He was still trying to figure out how the hell that change had happened after years of being rivals.
Having realised just what exactly he felt for Potter only made the entire situation worse. Wanting to be friends was one thing – wanting to be lovers … That would never reach the realm of possibilities. It was nothing more than a futile longing.
"Have you tried actually talking to him?" she asked and the look she favoured him with was filled with pity.
He threw her a flat look, not even deigning her worthy of a verbal reply.
"Just go talk to him for Merlin's sake!" She rolled her eyes and huffed; her patience was clearly wearing thin. "I don't want to deal with your sulking if someone snatches him up."
"I do not sulk," he said petulantly and glowered. "And like hell am I going to talk to him here!"
"For fuck's sake, you don't have to ask him out for a date now," she grumbled, crossing her arms. "And even if you do – which I encourage by the way, like the good friend I am – it's not like he's going to reject you because you're a man. Everyone knows he's bent."
"He can reject me for a whole slew of other reasons, like nearly killing him in sixth year," he snapped, though he took care to keep his voice down.
"Well, he nearly managed to kill you in sixth year, so he doesn't exactly get to claim the moral high ground," she pointed out with a thin smile. "He gave you your wand back, no? That should count for something. You're just making excuses; grab your chance! He might surprise you in the good sense."
This time he didn't even look at her anymore; he steadfastly ignored her as his eyes tracked Potter's presence through the room. He was content to remain on the side and sip from his glass until it was time to leave.
Next to him Pansy was hissing and grumbling, obviously put out at being ignored. She never had handled being ignored well.
"Because I'm so nice, I'm going to give you a choice, Draco," Pansy said in a dangerously calm voice.
The odd remark and her sudden calm demeanour made him look at her warily.
"Either you go up to him now and talk with him or the entire ballroom is going to be informed about what exactly you want to do to him," she stated bluntly. "And if you think I'm bluffing, darling, think again."
"Why do I keep associating with you?" He glared at her; his entire form tensing up. He knew all too well that she wasn't bluffing; she would go through with her threat if he didn't comply.
"Because you need me. Who else is going to put up with your stubborn arse?" she smirked; idly swishing the liquid in her glass.
"I despise you, just so you know," he informed her with a flat voice and she laughed merrily, ignoring serenely the few wary looks she received as response to her amusement.
"Just go, Draco," she urged him on, waving him off. "You won't regret this, I promise."
"Yes, I will," he growled and slammed his glass down on the windowsill; irritation flaring up. Knowing he had lost the battle, he whirled around and stalked off, ignoring her "Go get him!". He would get her back for this.
At first his stride was confident and he walked past several gossiping wizards and witches without paying them any attention. But the closer he got to Potter the more his insecurity flashed up and he faltered; the urge to flee out of the room was growing despite Pansy's clear threat. Maybe he could fake having received an urgent message and he could hole up in his home. Everything was better than risk humiliating himself in front of the other wizard.
Before he could make a sharp turn and flee to the exit, emerald green eyes lifted and caught him and they widened in surprise. Potter said something to the dark brown haired witch who had accosted him a few minutes ago and her face fell slightly and she walked away with an aura of dejection clinging to her. Potter then sauntered up to him; his faint smile an odd mixture of wariness and friendliness.
Potter's greeting cut straight through the panic muddling his mind. "Malfoy, it's been a while," Potter said and came to a stop a foot away. He offered the blond a cautious nod.
"Yeah, eh, true. How have you been?" Draco asked and then wanted to curse himself for asking such a bland and nonsensical question. Questions like that one were fine if you already had some kind of good relationship with each other. Not when you were school rivals at first and now acquaintances at best. This was already turning out quite bad and they had only exchanged three sentences.
Potter blinked, obviously taken aback by the random question. "I'm fine," he replied bemused. "Just got back from a mission. You?"
"The Ministry's starting to believe I won't poison the clients, so they have been giving me more orders," Draco answered and he couldn't hide the slight hint of a sneer working its way through his voice.
"Aren't you studying to become a Potions Master?" Potter inquired and cocked his head.
This time it was Draco's turn to be surprised. "Ah yes, I'm in my second to last year," he said and licked his lips. Potter had been keeping track of what he had been up to? "Still keeping an eye on me? Old habits die hard, it seems."
And he just had to go there, didn't he? Reminding Potter of their disastrous sixth year, what a fantastic way to keep the conversation going. Pansy would so regret forcing him to do this. He winced and shifted his foot. He probably should …
The sudden flush adorning Potter's cheeks distracted him, bringing his thoughts to a screeching halt.
"I swear I'm not keeping an eye on you like that! It's not like, you know. I mean," Potter stammered, raking a hand through his hair. "I just heard about it and …" He made a vague hand motion, looking quite flustered.
"And here I thought that making speeches for the Ministry had made you more eloquent," Draco smirked. He couldn't help it; before he had time to think twice, the slight jab had left his mouth. The other wizard however didn't seem to take any offense with it.
Potter grinned bashfully and rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry to disappoint. Shall I tell you a secret, though?" His eyes glittered mischievously and he took a step closer.
A tad intrigued, Draco raised an eyebrow. "What?"
Potter cupped a hand next to his mouth as if he wanted to prevent others from listening in – or lip reading, Draco amended silently – and bent his head closely towards Draco's. So close in fact that he could feel Potter's warm breath – tinted with the scent of strawberries as if he had gorged on them; it wasn't that unpleasant actually – caressing his own mouth when the other man spoke up.
"The majority of those speeches? Written by the Ministry itself. I'm absolute shit at writing speeches," Potter answered solemnly. A smidgen of bitterness worked its way up to the surface when he continued, "Of course, as long as the public believes I wrote them, all is well."
Deliberately ignoring the trace of bitterness, Draco quipped, "It's reassuring to hear that perfect people don't exist. And gratifying as well."
Potter side-eyed him amused and he retreated slightly. "Well, I'll be damned. So you don't think you're perfect?"
"Perfect doesn't exist. I am, however, in a completely different league than most people," Draco sniffed.
"Of course you are," Potter retorted and his amused chuckle caused a thrill to go through Draco; his skin pleasantly tingling.
He could hardly believe this conversation was going so well; he had expected to be snubbed by the other man before he could even open his mouth or worse, hexed or cursed. That Potter was willingly talking in an amiable manner with him …
He discreetly pinched his thigh to make certain he wasn't dreaming.
A loud "Potter! There you are!" had both men swivelling their heads around. Several feet away a man with fiery red hair and a strong, imposing built was looking expectantly at Potter; his ocean blue eyes briefly flitted over towards Draco. His blank face gave nothing away.
"Damn, I'd forgotten I still needed to discuss something with Sander," Potter murmured and looked apologetically. "Sorry, Malfoy. I need to talk to him."
"It's fine," Draco replied; careful to keep his tone neutral. Although he was annoyed by the interruption, he knew he had got farther with Potter now in this short conversation than he had in all those years before. This was way more than he had expected to happen.
"See you again, Malfoy," Potter said friendly and nodded before turning around to leave.
"Wait!"
Both Potter and he froze at his sudden exclamation. Green eyes regarded him curiously.
"What?"
"Would you – are you free tomorrow? To – to get a drink or so and you know, talk?"
Well, fuck. He just had to go and ruin it, didn't he? Merlin, he even had managed to completely fuck up his request by stammering like a fool. Very smooth, really, couldn't have gone better!
When Draco dared to look up, he winced when he saw Potter literally gaping at him in astonishment. He couldn't blame him for that particular reaction, really. Merlin knew he probably would have reacted even worse.
Embarrassment churning ugly in his stomach, he took a few steps back and said quickly, "You know, don't think about it. Just forget it. I … need to leave."
He hurried away – not fled, he reassured himself feebly – but came to an abrupt stop when Potter's voice travelled the distance between them and reached his ears.
"Sure, I have a free moment tomorrow. I see you around noon then."
Then he was gone.
Pansy eyed him over her glass with a knowing smirk. "Looks like you fared better than you thought."
"He agreed to have a drink with me tomorrow," Draco said and grimaced when he realised how dazed he sounded. Merlin, could he become even more embarrassing? Where had his ability to remain coolheaded gone to?
A look of surprise crossed Pansy's face before she cooed, "I knew you could do it! I'm so proud of you, my darling."
"Oh shut up," he groused, but he couldn't find it in him to really be annoyed at her. She had helped him in her own way after all. "Thanks," he muttered begrudgingly and looked away uncomfortably.
She squeezed his wrist briefly. "Just performing my duty as your best friend. Also your pining was also becoming too unsightly for someone of your status, dear," she sniffed. "Now, if you'll excuse me; that young man over there is in dire need of my presence." She sauntered away with a saucy wink.
He snorted amused and picked a glass with chilled white wine from a plate carried by a house elf. The wine tasted better than earlier in the evening, he noticed absentmindedly and he decided to remain for a little while longer.
The party wasn't that awful in hindsight.
Against all expectations, Draco didn't screw up when Potter showed up the next day to have lunch with him. He was honestly shocked to see the Auror casually leaning against the doorframe of his lab, as if this was something he did regularly. Even though Potter had agreed to meet up again, a part of Draco had already prepared itself for the inevitable disappointment that would arise if the other man didn't show up at all. It wouldn't have been a surprise if Potter had refused to come; Draco was all too well aware that their past together was quite fucked up. It was a miracle that they had managed to actually have a civil conversation at the party in the first place.
Yet despite their past, Potter had still shown up. It didn't even seem like an obligation to him.
They went to a nearby pub to grab some lunch and their conversation went rather smoothly. Some awkward moments did pop up, but Draco managed to stay away from dangerous topics like Potter's friends, not trusting himself to keep neutral about them.
By the time they stopped talking – they had just finished an argument about which team was more likely to win the next Quidditch cup (a safe topic) – and looked up, they realised that they had been talking for nearly two hours. They had never talked with each other for this long – hell, they hadn't even remained in each other's presence for this long before! This had to be a record for the history books.
Potter looked equally shocked that they had managed to have such a long conversation. Clearly he had expected otherwise.
When they parted, it was with the promise to do this again.
After two months of meeting for lunch or drinks, they mutually decided to skip the last names and call each other by their first name.
Another three months later – on a too hot August afternoon – Harry asked him out on a real date.
After witnessing Draco internally freaking out over this fact, Pansy's only remark was, "About time you two stopped being so stubborn. The sexual tension was starting to choke me. Now are you going to pick out your outfit on your own or do I need to do it for you?"
Two years later on his own birthday, Draco went down on one knee and asked Harry to marry him, surrounded by their friends and family. (Draco had made some sort of truce with Granger and Weasel after dating Harry for a year. Sometimes sacrifices had to be made.)
They got married seven months after Draco's proposal. The blond made sure to send Pansy on an extravagant holiday as a token of his gratitude. After all, if it hadn't been for her nagging – or more accurately, her threatening him all those months ago – he would never have even made one attempt to have a civil conversation with Harry.
He didn't even mind her gloating over the fact that she was essentially the reason for the two men to get together. He was too happy to be bothered by her boasting.
His life had finally taken a turn for the better. There was nothing that could burst his bubble anymore.
"This box contains Miss Parkinson's belongings which are now to come into your possession as stipulated into her will," the grey haired goblin droned flatly and placed a white box on the dark marble table. "You have time to look through it and decide whether or not you will accept your inheritance."
The goblin cast a suspicious glare at the man standing in front of the table before he turned around and left the room. The door falling shut sounded unnaturally loud in the small room.
Grey eyes stared at the box listlessly before hands slowly reached out and pulled the box closer.
A box. That was all that was left of his best friend. Nothing more.
Pansy had always been a fixed presence in his life from the moment he had been introduced to her when they were both eight years old. She had aggravated him at times, annoyed the crap out of him with her non-stop gossiping and her relentless needling whenever she thought something was wrong with him.
But she had been there for him. Stood by his side throughout the years, even when the Malfoy name was dragged through the mud after the war. Had lent her shoulder whenever everything had become too much for him to bear. Had listened to him and offered him advice – whether he asked for it or not. Had helped him plan his marriage proposal and had happily helped out with preparing the wedding. Had insisted on being his witness and maid of honour before he could even say anything about it – as if he would have chosen anyone else.
She had always been there as his best friend – and one curse had taken it all away. One revengeful son of a bitch had decided to rip his best friend away, just because he wanted to punish someone for losing his family during the war. Pansy hadn't even been really involved in the war; certainly had never killed anyone. But she had been at the wrong place at the wrong time when the bastard suddenly cracked and cursed her.
For three days she had suffered while the Healers tried every counter curse. When they finally figured out the counter curse it had already been too late.
She had died in Saint Mungos, with only Draco, Harry and Blaise present in her room. Her parents hadn't been allowed to leave Azkaban for their daughter's last moments, not even with Harry's help.
The perpetrator had been caught and was currently awaiting his trial in a cell in Azkaban, but it was too late for Pansy.
He would never see her again; hear her laugh or talk. Wouldn't be teased by her anymore whenever she caught him looking at Harry, calling him too smitten. Wouldn't feel her warm embraces anymore.
Nothing. There was nothing left of her.
Numbly he opened the box and tried to steel himself for what he would find. Harry had offered to accompany him, knowing how hard Draco had taken Pansy's loss, but he had declined his husband's offer. This was something he had to do on his own.
The first thing that caught his attention was a letter addressed to him. He picked it up and furrowed his eyebrows, wondering whether he was ready enough to find out what she had written for him. Wondered when she had written it.
Hands wavering and his sight slightly blurring, he opened the letter and started to read.
Dear Draco
I'm writing you this while you're sleeping next to me on what has to be the most uncomfortable cot in the world. I told you this evening that you and Harry should go home and rest there, but you refused once more.
I know that so unlike your usual self you are holding on to the hope that the Healers will find the counter curse for my problem. Let me be the pessimistic person for once and say that I know they won't be able to find one. Or at least not on time.
I can practically feel my life slipping away and while I'm trying to fight it, I'm getting tired of this hellish pain. It feels like pure fire is coursing through my veins and the pain relief potions aren't much help.
So I write you this letter with the understanding that I won't be alive for much longer.
First of all, I want you to know that you are the best friend I could have wished for. You might be a bloody stubborn arse, but I wouldn't exchange you for anyone in the world. I know you'll take my death hard – this is not my calling you weak, darling – but I don't want you to stop living your life to the fullest, just because I won't be there anymore. You're finally really happy and I don't want you to waste that with mourning for me. I'll always be there for you, even if you can't see me. You won't get rid of me that easily, you know.
I have something to confess, though. Something I should have told you much earlier, but I simply couldn't, because I never found the appropriate moment.
Or maybe I've been simply too much of a coward. Before I confess, I want you to know that all I ever wanted was for you to be happy. I just wanted to see my best friend happy and in wanting that, I made a rather grave error.
Do you remember the party, the one where I coaxed you to talk to Harry? I'm sure you remember that one. I can recall all too well how hopeful and cautiously happy you looked when you returned to me and told me that Harry had agreed to meet up again. I felt satisfied at that moment, knowing I had helped put that look on your face in my own way.
I felt even better when I heard you talk about your meetings with Harry and was nearly as excited as you when Harry asked you out on your first real date.
But as the months went by and you and Harry became closer and closer, guilt started to rise up more and more. It was so bad that it felt like it was choking me at times – it still feels like that, and somehow it feels even worse than what the curse is doing to my body.
What I am about to confess will probably make you furious at me and I understand that. I won't hold it against you if you even started to hate me for doing this to you. I messed up big time, darling, but all I wanted was for you to be happy. That's all I ever wanted. But the road to hell is paved with good intentions as they say.
I won't beat around the bush any longer. Draco, when I urged you to talk to Harry at that party, I did more than just talking sense into you. Before you greeted him, I used a spell on Harry. A spell that will turn even the slightest hint of goodwill into love the more you talk to that person. It is not exactly a dark spell, but it is classified as a compelling one and if discovered, a prison sentence isn't out of the question.
I still took the risk. Still messed with both of your lives. But Draco, please believe me when I say that I never meant to hurt you. I just wanted to see you happy and I knew that Harry would be able to do that. I didn't know whether it would work, because as you know, Harry can throw off the Imperius curse. I suppose my spell only worked, because it wasn't exactly forcing him to do anything: just turning that goodwill he had towards you into love for you.
I'm so sorry, Draco, for doing this. There hasn't been a day since that party that I wasn't angry at myself for going through with the spell. I know I should have told you about it, should have been honest the moment you started meeting up more and more with him, but I just couldn't.
You looked – and still look – so happy, Draco, that I didn't want to take that away from you.
I'm really sorry. Words can't express how sorry I am for doing this to you.
Why do I confess now, you might ask. Because you deserve the truth. Because I messed with your life and you don't deserve that.
If you hate me, I understand. I expect it to be honest.
Just please know, that I love you and I just wanted you to be happy. I'm just sorry that I messed up this badly, because you deserve better.
With my death the spell will probably disappear and I wish I could be there to help you get through this mess. Maybe this is for the best, though. This way you can start over. I really hope that Harry will still be at your side, but I'm sorry I can't promise that. I'm sorry I fucked this up for you.
The book said the spell will only remain active as long as the caster is alive or if the 'victim' of the spell is pregnant. I know I'll leave a big mess behind when I die and I'm just really sorry for that.
I know this letter isn't enough. Not for what I did to you.
The thing is, though, Draco, that I'm not sure if I would undo it all if I got a second chance. Because you are happy. And whatever will happen after this, I know you will pull through.
Because you're strong.
You can hate me all you want for doing this to you – just know that I'll always love you and be there for you.
I'm sorry, Draco. For everything.
Pansy
As soon as the door fell shut behind him, his husband appeared in the doorway of the living room.
Harry looked at him with concerned eyes. "How are you holding up?" he asked softly and bit his lip, coming forwards to hug him.
The concern made him breathless and had him clenching his fists before he realised it. Pansy's confession hung as a heavy cloud above him.
Even this was gone. But could something be gone if it had never really existed in the first place?
"As well as can be expected," Draco murmured flatly and hung his robes on the peg before slipping his own arms around Harry's waist. His fingers brushed against something in Harry's back pocket. "What's this?"
The dark haired man pulled back a bit and seemed uncertain. "That can wait," he said dismissively and shrugged. "Not really a good timing for this."
"Harry, what is it?" Draco frowned and unwillingly tensed up. It couldn't be something bad, right? He wouldn't be able to deal with it after the news he had just received.
Harry sighed and pulled the object out of his pocket with his slender fingers. It was a small potion vial containing a bright blue liquid.
"Remember the potion's incident two months ago?" he asked softly and, not waiting for Draco's answer, continued, "The one where we weren't sure whether the potion would affect me? Well, it did. I took the test today." He took a deep breath and looked Draco straight in his eyes. "I'm nearly two months pregnant, Draco."
All the air seemed to leave his lungs and he made an odd choking sound as he stared wide eyed at his husband. His husband who was now carrying his child. They would have a baby together.
A baby.
"Draco?" Harry's nervous voice penetrated through the fog that had enveloped his brain. "I know we – we didn't really plan this, but you said you wouldn't mind if you know …" he trailed off, looking uncomfortable. "Are you – you rethinking this?" His green eyes darkened with uncertainty and his hand tightened visibly around the vial.
Briskly Draco shook his head and embraced Harry tighter, pressing their lips harshly together before he pulled back – leaving Harry quite dazed and with bruised, reddened lips – and said, "No, no, I'm not rethinking this. I was just – caught off guard. I … I can't believe we're going to be parents." His laughter was weak and tears escaped his eyes before he could stop them.
Hands cradled his face tenderly as thumbs stroked away his tears. "I love you," Harry whispered and shining, bright green eyes looked at him full of love.
"I love you too," Draco murmured brokenly and burrowed his face into Harry's shoulders, feeling the man caress his back as they stood there in the hallway for a long time.
Standing like this, embraced by the man he loved, it was all too easy to believe this was real. That his love was really reciprocated.
It felt real. That would have to be enough.
He had learnt to keep secrets during the war – what was one more secret?
He loved Harry. Harry loved him. They would soon have a baby together.
Nothing else mattered.
AN2: I swear I didn't mean for it to become this angsty - or this long, but my brain betrayed me once again *sweatdrops* (You don't want to know how long it took me to finish this story)
Cuddles
Melissa
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