Author: 
alisanne
Team: Team EWE
Prompt: The Fool
Wordcount: 15800
Rating: R
Warnings: None
Summary: As the world recovers from war, Draco faces an uncertain future. Unusual advice sets him on a new path, but only time will tell if he can avoid the pitfalls.
Author's Note: Everlasting thanks to Team EWE and my betas. Special thanks to our dear captain, sansa1970, without whose unfailing cheerleading/support this story would probably not have been possible, and to the moderators of this fest.
Catch Me If I Fall
~*~*~
If he squinted, he could see all the way to the end of Knockturn Alley, Draco realized. There was a shop there, a shabby place with a faded sign featuring a man standing next to a sheep. Who knew what they sold? Draco shook his head, unable to remember having noticed the place before, but that wasn't too surprising. When he'd been visiting Borgin and Burkes regularly, he'd been too focussed on his grisly assigned task to pay the surrounding shops any mind. Now though, he had time, too much time, on his hands. Now he noticed such things.
He sighed, not sure why he had returned to this dismal place. Distracted, deep in thought, with no specific destination in mind, his feet had brought him here, to the most dangerous street known to wizardingkind. He would have to watch that.
His mother had begged him not to leave the house but not because she was concerned for him, well, not much. No. More because she wanted him in her sight all the time. After the year they'd had, it was understandable, he supposed, but it was also smothering.
He snorted softly. Just because his father had retreated from the world didn't mean he was to be Lucius' replacement! Surely his mother could see that? He had his own life to pursue.
And the first thing will be to clear the Malfoy name, he thought grimly. It had got to the point where he had to keep his hair covered in public. Very few wizards his age had hair this colour after all, and having one's picture splashed across the front pages of countless newspapers was not conducive to anonymity. Hardly anyone was unaware of who he was anymore. And to think he used to envy Potter.
It was getting dark and it occurred to Draco that he needed to be alert. He ducked his head as a couple of wizards walked towards him. When neither one seemed to pay him any mind, he relaxed slightly, relieved. There had been incidents involving ex-Death Eaters lately. Several had been assaulted while out and not one person had lifted a wand to help them. He doubted anyone would help here should someone discover who he was.
Draco hurried quickly past his old haunt. The place had been shut down by the Ministry anyway, the dark windows now lifeless, although he still had the eerie feeling of being watched as he walked past.
Someone shouted at the end of the alley and Draco turned to look, his hood falling off his head with the quick motion. The two wizards who had passed him were staring straight at him, and Draco saw it the moment he was recognized.
It was as he was scanning further down the alley for an escape that he saw it. 'Mirabella's Tarot Readings', the sign declared in faded pink, and in smaller script it said 'moste accurate predictions for your future'.
One of the wizards had started towards him, an unpleasant look on his face. Draco strolled purposefully towards Mirabella's. He could at least look as if he had an appointment or something.
The wizard was coming up fast, and just as Draco raised his hand to knock, the door opened and a gnarled hand pulled him through.
"Oi!" came the cry from outside as the door was shut in the wizard's face. Distant cursing followed and then finally faded.
Draco looked at his rescuer carefully, but the hallway was dark and he could barely make out their face. "Thank you. How did you know—?"
"Welcome, seeker." As his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the hallway, he could see an old woman looking up at him, her beady black eyes dancing with some unnamed emotion. "You are right on time. Come this way."
"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talk—"
She brushed past him mid-sentence, walking towards a room further down the hall. He could see a brighter light coming from it. He hesitated.
"Go or stay, child." The woman's voice drifted back to him. "But know that those men shall not relinquish their prey so easily."
Draco glanced once more at the door. She was right, of course. He hardly had a choice. With a sigh, he trailed after her, walking into a busily decorated room where clashing florals warred with stripes and animal prints. In the centre was a table with two shabby chairs pulled up to it. A deck of cards was laid out in a fan shape.
"Sit," the old woman rasped, pointing at one of the chairs. "I'll do a reading for you."
"I don't believe in that rot," Draco said. "Look, if you have a back way out, I'll just—"
"Sit!"
Draco sat, blinking as the woman sat across from him and, after shuffling her cards, said, "So, seeker, shall we see what the cards hold for you?"
"I suppose," he said dryly. It appeared he had no choice. He rolled his eyes.
"You may ask your question," she said.
"I don't have any questions for you other than, how can I get out of the position I'm now in?"
She inclined her head. "A good question, young seeker, to be answered by a simple reading I think."
He shrugged and sighed. "As you wish, then. Once you're done you'll show me the way out, yeah?"
She smiled, her gap-toothed grin somehow unnerving him. Letting her hand hover over the cards for a moment, she picked one out and turned it over. "Ah, the Upright Fool. Of course."
Glancing down at the card, Draco saw a young man, a gaudy fool's hat on his head, carrying a stick with a rag tied to the end. His eyes widened. "I am no one's fool, madam," he said coolly, getting to his feet, "Now if this nonsense is over..."
He gasped as she grabbed his arm, her grip deceptively strong for a bent old woman. "You are at the beginning of your new life," she whispered. "Expect the unexpected and trust that all shall be well. You'll have important decisions to make, follow your instincts and you shall make the right choices. You cannot run from your past, but you can use past experiences to make a new and better future."
Pulling away, Draco glared at her. "If you keep this up I'm going to take my chance with those men," he said, nodding towards the door through which he'd entered.
She shook her head. "This way," she said, leading him out of the room. "You'll be able to slip away to safe Apparating distance through the back."
The tiny alley smelt of horrid, dead things, but Draco was still glad to be out of the claustrophobic room and away from her piercing eyes. He turned to look once more at his unlikely rescuer. Realizing he owed her a debt, he slipped his hand into his robes, and, pulling out a coin, handed it to her. "Thanks."
She accepted the money and smiled that gap-toothed smile again. "Blessed be. And remember, you can do anything, just watch your step, lest in your eagerness, you trip, young seeker. And do not refuse help when offered."
Draco sneered and turned away, promptly tripping over a box to fall flat on his face.
Her peals of laughter made him flush with embarrassment, but by the time he was up and had turned to glare at her, she was gone, the alleyway deserted. It was fully dark now and, shivering, he wrapped his robes more tightly around himself and hurried home.
"But why not, Harry?"
Harry sighed. He knew he should be patient with her. She was his best friend's sister, practically his own sister, really, but this was getting old. "Because we're in your parents' house, Ginny!" he hissed, eyes darting towards the stairs up which anyone could walk at any moment.
"Oh, please. They don't care!" she whispered back. "Trust me, if we walked downstairs hand in hand for dinner, they would be thrilled. They know how I feel about you."
Harry removed Ginny's arms from where they had wound around his neck and stepped back. "No, Gin," he said firmly, wondering, for not the first time, if he should have stayed at Grimmauld Place instead of allowing Ron to talk him into coming to the Burrow. It would have made packing a lot easier, although he imagined Kreacher would be fussing over him about now... He shuddered.
Ginny looked hurt and Harry sighed. "It's not right. I don't..." He swallowed hard and decided on honesty. "It's not fair to you. I'm not ready to commit to anyone and you deserve better. Ron's right. We can't keep snogging."
"What? Why not? I like snogging you." Her eyes narrowed. "And you seemed committed enough in your sixth year."
"I..."
"You what? You've found someone else to snog, then? Did you meet someone while you off doing whatever you were doing?"
"No!" Harry sighed. "Ginny, I told you all about that. It was just me and Ron and Hermione looking for Horcruxes out there. Who could I have met? We were alone."
"So you said." She sighed and leaned against the wall, eyes searching his face. "It's all the pressure, isn't it?" she asked finally.
"The...?"
"Everyone's expecting you to go back to Hogwarts, settle down, marry... someone, have children, be an Auror, but no one's asked you what you want to do." She pushed away from the wall and moved closer. "So what do you want to do?"
Harry stared at her. "I... I don't..." His mouth snapped closed.
Ginny smiled. "You don't actually know, do you?" she asked gently.
He flushed. "I'll decide," he said a tad defensively. "Eventually. I am going back to school, though. That much I know."
She nodded. "That's a start, I'd just hoped... I really could help with the rest of those decisions, Harry."
"Yeah, it's just that this is the first time I've been able to decide things for myself, you know?" Harry said, realizing at that moment that it was true. "All along it's been someone else deciding things. Voldemort, my relatives, Dumbledore... Now that it really is up to me, I'd sort of like to make up my own mind about my future."
To Harry's relief, she smiled and patted his arm. "I understand, Harry. And you do know that no matter what you decide, you'll always have me, don't you?"
Harry grinned, pulling her into a hug. "Thanks, Gin," he whispered into her hair. "I dunno what I'd do if I lost your friendship."
She simply clasped him tighter. "It'll never happen," she murmured. "No matter what, we'll always be friends."
"You're too good to me."
"She really is," a new voice said.
They sprang apart, Harry peering into the shadows darkening the stairs to see Hermione and Ron standing there. Ron was shaking his head.
"You two really need to stop doing that," he said, pushing past. "If Mum sees you she'll have the wedding planned before you can say ball and chain."
Ginny giggled and leaned away from Harry. "True, which is why she'll never catch us," she said breezily as she walked down the stairs.
Harry shared a look with Ron and Hermione before following. Given Molly's temper, they all hoped she was right.
"But why, darling? Why would you go back there?"
Draco sighed. He had anticipated resistance from his father about returning to Hogwarts, but not his mother. "Mother, I have to."
"I know last year wasn't ideal," she said, and Draco bit back the urge to laugh at that bit of understatement. "But what else can they possibly teach you?"
"All the things I didn't learn last year." Draco stirred his tea and stared out the window. Bloody peacocks were squawking again and giving him a headache.
"If you must go to back school, I think there are better choices. Or perhaps we could hire a private tutor..."
"Leave him alone, Narcissa. It's his decision."
Two sets of eyes turned to stare at Lucius, but he didn't return the favour. He was too busy pouring himself a Firewhisky.
"Lucius, do you really think you ought to have that for breakfast?" Narcissa wrung a napkin in her hands as she spoke. Draco's eyes were caught by her unusually rough fingernails.
"Indeed, Narcissa, I am doing my best not to think, thank you. I would ask Severus to make me some Dreamless Sleep, but alas, he's gone! Is it not enough that the Dark Lord took everything? My friends, my reputation, my home, even my wand fell to his greed! Am I no longer the master of even my own body in my own home?"
Narcissa's lips compressed in a thin line as he strolled towards the door. "Lucius, I didn't mean—"
"If Draco wants to return to Hogwarts, he can," Lucius interrupted. "He's a grown wizard, he can make that decision. And he'll need an education to make his way in the world."
"You expect him to have to work?"
Draco rubbed his temples as staccato bursts of conversation exploded around him. He wasn't sure he could articulate exactly why he wanted another chance at Hogwarts, only that he did. All he knew was that with the war over and all his family's many machinations having come to naught, he needed a new start, they all did, and this was the first step.
"If he must return to school, Beauxbatons would be perfect," Draco heard his mother say. "I always hoped he'd go there anyway..."
"He doesn't need to learn magical embroidery!"
Draco rolled his eyes discreetly. He wondered if the Board of Governors would even allow him to return to Hogwarts in the first place. It was being reported that the previous year of school was being discounted and that students, especially seventh-years, were being offered the chance to repeat the year. But did that include people who had been a part of the 'hostile takeover'?
"It's a perfectly good institution," Narcissa was saying. "He would do well there. He speaks perfect French."
"It would be seen as cowardly," Lucius snapped.
Draco blinked. Yes, it would. He imagined all the Gryffindors would be returning to wallow in their superiority and their victory, including Potter. Draco licked his lips. Oddly enough, he hoped Potter would be there. Potter always made him strive to do better, put forth his best effort. If they both ended up at Hogwarts again, he thought that would be the same, too.
"Durmstrang?" Narcissa said. "I suppose we could see if they would consider—"
"I don't want to go there," Draco said. "Hogwarts, Mother."
Narcissa threw up her hands. "I want it known that I do not agree with this," she said. Standing, she sailed out of the room.
Draco sighed and took a sip of his cool tea. Perhaps this was all a pipe dream, perhaps he needn't worry about any of it. Letters would undoubtedly be going out in a few days. It was possible he wouldn't get one.
"If you want to return, I can make sure it happens," Lucius said quietly.
Startled, Draco looked up at him, watching as Lucius drained his glass of the fiery amber liquor. "Yes," he finally whispered. "I want to go."
Lucius nodded and walked out.
If nothing else it'll get me away from these bloody peacocks, Draco thought.
Packing turned out to be more difficult than he had anticipated. A day after his father had promised his help, Draco's Hogwarts letter arrived. Unfortunately, it had arrived in the middle of dinner, and his mother had used it as an excuse to wax eloquently about what a mistake it was. Since his father no longer attended dinner, Draco had borne the brunt of that discussion, and now he was in an unenviable position between his feuding parents. His mother, an old hand at persuasion, used every trick in her formidable arsenal.
"Honestly, darling," she would say every morning as the time drew closer for him to return to school. "The pace of life in Europe is just so much more civilized. The food is better, the fashion, not to mention the marriage prospects. You would be much happier there. It's not too late to change your mind."
Marriage prospects? No respectable English wizarding families would talk to them now and she imagined it would be better in Europe? "I am not going to Europe, Mother," he'd say.
"Perhaps America, then?"
The first time she'd said that, Lucius had snorted and speared Narcissa with a glance but hadn't said a word, retiring to his study moments later. His mother never mentioned it in his father's presence again, although she did bring it up as often as possible when they were out of Lucius' earshot.
Resigned to her nagging, Draco would nod but say nothing, just go to his room to supervise the elves and plan his year. It didn't take him long to see that it would require a lot of planning.
Not only was the Malfoy name not what it had been, but he would be one of probably very few Slytherin seventh-year students returning. Pansy certainly wouldn't be, not after her display during the Battle of Hogwarts as it was now being called.
He shook his head. He would definitely need new friends, especially as his old ones were either dead or as good as.
"Fucking idiots," he muttered, sparing a thought for his old sidekicks. "So much for Slytherins being clever and secretive."
It was up to him to redeem their house it seemed, and to do that, he needed supplies and a plan.
It was a busy day in Diagon Alley, what with people bustling about. Many Hogwarts students could be seen flitting in and out of shops carrying books, robes, sweets...
"So we'll see you in Flourish and Blotts in thirty minutes, yeah?" Ron had stopped a few feet short of Madam Malkin's, much to the chagrin of the people trying to walk around him.
"Unless you want to come in with me to try robes on," Harry said, grinning.
Ron made a face. "No thanks, mate. Given that choice, I'd rather go look at books with Hermione." Dodging her playful swat, he continued. "I will go to the Quidditch shop with you later, though."
"I imagine Ginny will want to go there, too," Hermione added.
"Speaking of, where is she now?" Harry asked, looking around.
"She said something about shopping with Luna," Ron said. "I can only imagine where they are."
Harry smiled. Knowing Luna, they were probably off looking at vegetables to make into jewellry or something. "Right, well, I'm going in," he said, looking up at the brightly displayed robes in the window.
"You don't have to get new clothes you know, Harry," Hermione said. "It's not as if anyone cares."
"I care," Harry said softly. "It's time I dressed like a real wizard. I'm turning over a new leaf, it's a new year, and I no longer have to rely on Dudley's awful hand-me-downs."
Hermione smiled. "I know," she said, patting his arm. "Do you want me to come with you? I can put off shopping for books—"
"No. You've been looking forward to this for weeks. Go on. I'll see you there a bit later." Harry squared his shoulders. "I'll be fine."
"Right! See you later, then," Ron called back as he dragged Hermione along.
Harry chuckled as they walked away. Glancing around Diagon Alley once more, he sighed. This was the first time he was relaxed enough to appreciate the sights and sounds of the place, the first time he didn't have to worry about being under attack. The first time he didn't have to do anything but look forward to a year of learning about magic. It was a heady feeling.
The shop looked busy to him when he pushed inside; he was a bit surprised to see so many people being fitted for robes. Harry stood by the door for a few moments until he was spotted.
"Mr. Potter!"
Madam Malkin herself, beaming, bustled over to shake his hand.
"Hullo. I, um, have an appointment," Harry began.
"Of course you do, dear. I have a fitting room set aside. Come this way!"
Harry followed her, chewing his bottom lip as he did so. Perhaps Hermione was right, perhaps he didn't need to...
"Here we are," she said, gesturing towards a room. "Make yourself comfortable and I'll let one of my seamstresses know you're here—" She broke off, a cool note entering her voice. "Oh my, there's someone in here already."
Harry looked over her shoulder, blinking when he saw Draco Malfoy standing there. "Malfoy?"
Madam Malkin crossed her arms. "I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy," she said, not sounding sorry at all. "You'll need to go. We need this room for Mr. Potter."
Malfoy looked up, and Harry would have sworn a hurt look crossed his face before the cool mask he was used to seeing returned. "I'm afraid I have not completed my fitting yet," he said. "Potter will just have to wait."
"Certainly not!" Madam Malkin looked outraged. "He deserves a private room. Mr. Potter is—"
"All the rage," Malfoy finished dryly. "Yes, I'm aware of his popularity."
"It's all right," Harry interjected, stepping in front of Madam Malkin. "I'm sure Malfoy and I can share this room for our fitting. There's no need for him to have to leave on my account."
"That's generous, Mr. Potter, but there's no reason you should have to—"
"Really, it's fine," Harry insisted. "We attended school together once, we can manage to share a room for a few minutes."
Madam Malkin looked doubtful, but at Harry's reassurances she finally nodded. "Very well. I'll be sure to send someone in immediately. There's no reason you should have to be in the same room with the likes of—"
"We'll be fine," Harry said again, shutting the door in her face. Taking a deep breath, he turned to face Malfoy, who was staring at him.
"Are you sure that you can stand to be in the same room with me, Potter? It may soil your reputation." Malfoy had a smirk on, but Harry could still see some tightness around his eyes. The prior scene had probably upset him.
"I think I'll manage," Harry said, walking into the room. "I've been meaning to talk to you, actually."
"Oh?" Malfoy crossed his arms. "What about?"
Taking a deep breath, Harry launched into his explanation. "I owe you and your mother a debt. Either of you could have betrayed me during the war or the last battle and you didn't. When we got caught and we were at your house, you knew who I was, didn't you?"
Malfoy nodded slowly. "I did," he confirmed.
Harry smiled. "Yeah, I thought so. Yet you didn't let on, even when they kept asking you."
Malfoy shrugged.
"Did your mother tell you what she did when Voldemort asked if I was dead?" Harry continued.
Malfoy began fiddling with the fold of his robes. "She told me about some of it. I think you more than made up for anything you owe my family by testifying on our behalf before the Wizengamot. If you hadn't we probably would have been sent to prison."
"Maybe," Harry said.
"And if you hadn't saved Goyle and me from that Fiendfyre..." Malfoy shuddered.
Harry nodded. "Yeah, that's true, too, I suppose. I just... I feel as if I still owe you and your family, Malfoy. If you ever need anything..."
"What? You'll use your influence?" Malfoy's glance was sharp.
"I'd consider it." Harry held Malfoy's gaze as two seamstresses walked in followed by Madam Malkin.
"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter. Shall we finish your fittings?"
They both nodded, and as the seamstress began pinning the fabric around him, Harry found himself cataloguing the changes in the other man. Malfoy seemed different somehow, less combative, more introspective. He certainly wasn't as insulting as he usually was, and that annoying drawl was gone.
It took Harry a minute to notice that Malfoy, too, was being fitted for Hogwarts robes. "You're going back to school?" he blurted.
Malfoy's eyes met his in the mirror. "Well spotted, Potter," he said. "As a matter of fact, yes, I am."
"But... but why?" Harry asked. "I mean, you finished school last year, didn't you?"
Malfoy looked away. "You think we really learned anything? Oh, there were a lot of Unforgivables being cast, but no real spell theory or teaching."
"And you care about that?"
Malfoy's eyes went cold. "Believe it or not, Potter, I do care about my education, especially since I'm likely to have to make my own way in the world."
"I'm sorry," Harry murmured. "That was thoughtless of me. Um, I was just surprised that you were coming back."
Malfoy smirked. "Of course I am. After all, someone has to give you a run for your money when it comes to Quidditch," he said.
Harry laughed. "You can try, Malfoy. You can try."
"There, you're done," Malfoy's seamstress said, stepping back. "Shall we have them owled to you when they're completed?"
Malfoy nodded and stepped down from the pedestal he'd been on and pulled his regular robes from the hook. "Yes, thank you."
As he walked out, he paused and looked back over his shoulder at Harry. "Nice chatting with you, Potter. See you on the train."
Harry stared after Draco when he left, wondering why he was suddenly looking forward to it.
"Well that was exhausting," Hermione proclaimed, collapsing onto the couch next to Ron.
"I don't know why we had to buy everything today," Ron whinged. "There's a week yet until school starts."
"Did you see how crazy it was in Diagon Alley? It'll only get worse before the term begins," Hermione reminded him. "And your mother wanted us to get things done early, remember?"
Ron rolled his eyes. "I still think we could have done it in shifts. Maybe if we'd divided it into several days we would have had time to look at the Quidditch equipment."
"If it had been up to you we'd have spent the entire day there," Hermione said. "And not got any books."
Ron smiled. "Is there a problem with that?" he teased, dodging her smack. "The Quidditch shop would have been fine with Harry, right?"
"I suppose."
"You suppose?" Ron shook his head. "You feeling all right, mate?"
"Yeah, just thinking. Did either of you see Malfoy there today?" Harry asked.
Ron raised an eyebrow. "Malfoy? In Diagon Alley? Was he looking for school supplies?" At Harry's nod Ron whistled. "Why would he have been there? He finished last year."
"He told me that he's coming back to Hogwarts," Harry murmured.
"He what?" Hermione sat straight up. "When did you talk to him?" she asked.
"He was in Madam Malkin's getting fitted for school robes."
"Really?" she said, exchanging a look with Ron. "You never said."
"Sure I did," Harry replied, settling back into his seat. "I told you when we met up at the book shop."
"I think I would have remembered that, Harry."
"Maybe I never got to say," Harry said thoughtfully. "You were a bit engrossed in the books."
Hermione blushed. "Right, well tell us now, then," she said, leaning forward.
Harry shrugged. "We were both being fitted for robes and we had to share a fitting room. He said he was going back to Hogwarts and he seemed, I dunno, different somehow."
"Different? In what way?"
"Just... I can't really say, more thoughtful or something."
"Malfoy? Thoughtful? Right. So worst luck that he was at Madam Malkin's at the same time as you," Ron sighed. "Did you hex him?"
"Ron!" Hermione cast a quelling glance at Ron before moving to sit next to Harry. "So, he's coming back to school? Did you ask him why?"
Harry nodded. "Said he didn't learn that much last year, what with all the Death Eaters about. I got the impression that he wants to actually learn some things and take his NEWTs."
"That's... surprisingly farsighted of him," Hermione said. "Maybe the war knocked some sense into his head."
Ron shook his head. "I doubt that. I've no doubt he'll be the same old prat he's always been. He may be a bit more careful about spouting that pureblood crap in public, though."
"I don't know about that," Harry said. "He seemed sincere enough, and Madam Malkin wasn't very nice to him."
"Oh?" Hermione frowned.
"Yeah. She was going to throw him out of the fitting room until I said it was fine for us to share."
"The name Malfoy clearly doesn't mean what it used to," Ron said. "Can't say I'm surprised."
"Yeah," Harry said.
"It would be much worse if not for you. He probably feels grateful for all you've done," Hermione said. "You did testify on his and his mother's behalf, after all."
"More than I would have done," Ron muttered.
"Things could have been much worse if he had actually identified us that night at the Manor, Ron," Harry reminded him. "It was the least I could do."
"He probably didn't know it was us," Ron insisted. "He was just waiting like everyone else to see what happened."
"He knew," Harry said. "I think he knew and he was starting to realize he'd picked the wrong side and he did his best not to give us away, to give us a chance."
"Yeah, right." Ron turned away, stood up and began rummaging through the sideboard.
"That could be," Hermione agreed, moving closer to Harry. "That doesn't mean he's entirely trustworthy now, though." She was staring at him intently as she spoke.
"It may mean he's probably grown up a bit." Harry sighed. "Look, I'm not saying we're going to be best friends or anything, but we can be polite, yeah? Especially since we'll all be eighth-years together."
Hermione smiled. "I suppose so," she said.
"What's so funny?" Harry asked.
"I think you've grown up a bit, too," she said. "I can't see you having made that suggestion last year."
Harry blushed. "Thanks. I think," he chuckled. "It feels like this year should be a new start, you know?"
She nodded and patted his arm.
"So, Exploding Snap, anyone?" Ron asked, holding up the game. He had chocolate smeared across his lips from a hastily consumed chocolate frog, and in that moment he reminded Harry of the eleven-year-old who had become his first friend.
Hermione shook her head. "At least one of you has," she murmured, rolling her eyes as she moved to join Ron in the game.
"We can find another way to get you to Scotland, you know, dear." Narcissa spoke in the cool, cultured tones she used when out in public. "I don't know that the Hogwarts Express is the best way to—"
"I'll be fine, Mother." It had taken Draco years to perfect the ability to speak out of the side of his mouth, and he was rather pleased that he was able to pull it off. "I want to take the train."
Narcissa sighed but didn't say anything more. Instead she nodded, and after casting a critical look around platform nine and three-quarters she leaned forward and enveloped Draco in a perfumed hug.
"Owl me when you get in," she whispered. "I'll send you some Honeydukes dark next week."
He nodded and let himself relax for a moment in her arms before pulling away. Taking a deep breath, he walked towards the train and stepped on board. Something tingled over him, but Draco dismissed it as his imagination.
Searching for an empty car proved difficult, and by the time he managed to find one, the train was already pulling away. He was able to get to the window in time to have a last glimpse of his mother as she stood there and then she was gone, the buildings rushing past the window as he settled into his seat.
He hadn't seen any of his classmates in the other compartments he had passed, but that hadn't been particularly surprising. What was surprising was that no tried to come and share the compartment with him.
Shrugging, Draco chalked it up to good luck and spent the majority of the trip staring out the window and thinking.
A prefect came by mid-way through the ride, but when she stuck her head inside she looked straight through him and after a moment kept going without a word. Draco sighed. It looked as if it was going to be a lonely year.
Luckily he didn't happen across Potter or his friends on the trip; Draco wasn't sure he could have managed to remain calm in that situation, although his last meeting with Potter hadn't been too bad.
When the train pulled in to Hogsmeade, Draco was ready to disembark, although he did wait for a while to allow everyone else off. As he stepped off the train into the cool night air, however, he shivered a bit, then he realized his strategy hadn't worked quite the way he'd planned.
"Malfoy."
Potter and his two faithful sidekicks were there; apparently they had been waiting for him. Great.
"Potter. Weasley. Granger."
"Looks like you were serious about returning."
Draco smirked. "Were you hoping I'd been joking? Sorry to disappoint you, Potter, but yes, I was serious."
"No, I just—" Potter sighed and started again. "I didn't see you on the train, and I went looking, so I wondered if you'd changed your mind."
"I was there," Draco said thoughtfully. "I had a car to myself."
Granger was staring at him. "Do you have a spell on you?" she asked. "You look a bit blurry around the edges."
Draco blinked. "Not that I—" He paused as he remembered the tingly feeling from earlier. "Finite Incantatem."
Granger nodded. "Yes, you look normal now."
Draco ducked his head. His mother, bless her, had evidently cast a Notice-Me-Not Spell on him, just enough to give him a few hours of peace before the deluge of questions started.
"Right, well, if that's all I'll be going up to the school now—" He paused, staring at the creatures attached to what he'd previously assumed were horseless carriages. "What are they?"
"They're Thestrals," Potter said. "Guess it's the first time you've seen them?"
Draco nodded slowly. Was that big one looking at him?
"You didn't see them last year?" Granger asked.
Draco shrugged. "The Dark Lord did away with the carriages last year," he said. "He said we should all be able to Apparate to the gates and walk in under our own speed. The underage ones had to be Side-Along-Apparated by pureblood relatives."
"I see." Granger walked past him. "Well, unless you want to walk to school, you'll get in a carriage."
"Does he have to get in our carriage?" Weasley stage-whispered.
"Ron!"
Draco could feel his face heating. "I can wait for another," he said stiffly, wrapping arms around his torso.
To his surprise, both Potter and Granger objected to that.
"You're welcome to come with us," Potter insisted while Granger whispered furiously with Weasley.
Draco considered this. Finally, he nodded. "Yeah, all right," he said, walking towards the carriage. "Let's go, then."
Granger was already in the vehicle, Weasley sitting next to her and staring at Draco as if daring him to come near. With a sigh, Draco stepped up into the carriage and almost missed.
"Watch your step," Potter said behind him.
Draco froze, something in Potter's voice reminding him inexplicably of the Seer who had done his Tarot reading weeks before. She had told him to watch his step, too...
The buggy lurched and Potter fell against him for a moment before righting himself. Draco sat very still on the way up to Hogwarts, wondering why he was no longer cold.
"Good pudding," Ginny said, filling her plate. "And it looks like Ron agrees."
"Hmpf?" Ron, his mouth full of treacle tart, looked up, confused.
"Chew and swallow, Ron," Hermione reminded him.
"What? 'S good." Ron scooped some more pudding onto his plate as he spoke.
"Does it feel odd to be the only eighth-years here?" Ginny asked. She was unconsciously fingering her Head Girl badge as she spoke.
Hermione smiled. "A bit, yes," she said. "I mean we're sort of outside the regular school, you know? With our own curriculum, our own schedule—"
"Other than a couple of the Ravenclaws, you're the only ones who decided to do more school," Ginny said.
"And Malfoy," Harry said, glancing towards the Slytherin table. The table looked quite sparsely populated compared to the others. Several of the sixth-years had opted to take their last year abroad and only a few of the firsties had Sorted into Slytherin this time. Harry wondered how many of them had argued with the Hat.
"Yeah, and him." Ginny made a face. "Wonder why he came back?"
"I imagine he wanted to learn something more than Dark magic and how to dodge Aurors," Hermione said acerbically.
"Shouldn't have joined the wrong side, then," Ginny mumbled.
Hermione shrugged. "Well, it can't have been easy for him either. What if your parents had been Death Eaters?"
"I can't believe you're defending him!"
"I'm not," Hermione said. "I'm just saying that maybe Malfoy deserves a new start just like the rest of us."
"I guess." Ginny nudged Harry. "What do you think? Do you think Malfoy has turned over a new leaf?"
Harry shrugged. "Maybe. I think only time will tell."
"I suppose it's possible he's changed," Ginny acknowledged. "He wasn't that bad last year, actually, although Snape always made sure I got detention with Hagrid, so I never had to endure it with him and his goons."
Ron, having finished his pudding, spoke up. "Why are we worrying about the ferret anyway? He's only getting what he deserves. Who's for a game back at the tower?"
They all stood up, and as they began to leave the Great Hall, Harry couldn't help but look over his shoulder at Malfoy, sitting all alone at his table. He looked lonely, and Harry wondered if anyone deserved that.
Keeping his head straight and his gaze cool, Draco tried to stare down the Ravenclaw who was currently blocking his way.
"Why'd you bother to come back, Malfoy?" asked the boy, Draco thought his name was Ackerley or something. "Didn't you do enough damage last year?"
"Not that it's any of your concern," Draco sneered in his best imitation of Snape, "but I am here for the same reason that everyone else is. To learn. Now, step aside so that I can get on with it."
"You shouldn't have come back," the boy insisted. "We all remember what you did, you know. Harry Potter saying good things about you doesn't mean you get a free pass. We remember how you tortured people in detentions."
"Anyone who remembers me torturing people is mistaken," Draco replied. "More often that not, I protected people by making those Carrows think I was punishing them, only I didn't."
"Your friends did, though," the boy blustered, though he did seem a bit less sure of himself.
"How am I responsible for their actions?"
"You watched them doing it, casting Unforgivables on people. You may as well have done it yourself." The boy was getting upset, his face turning red.
"What the—?" Draco paused as a wand was pulled on him. "You'll want to put that away before you hurt yourself," he said dryly.
"Stewart?" A familiar voice came from behind Draco making him flinch. Of course it would be Saint Potter. "What are you doing?"
"Oh, it's you, Harry." Stewart looked embarrassed for a moment before slipping his wand back into his robes. "I was just talking to Malfoy."
"With your wand?"
"It's fine, Potter," Draco interjected. "We were just having a private discussion."
"And I repeat, with wands?"
"He was one of them!" Stewart was staring at Draco and the look made him shiver.
"He was as much a victim as we were," Harry said, stepping forward. "And when it mattered, he saved my life."
Stewart shook his head. "Oh please! When are you going to stop defending this arse?" he asked, turning away. Before anyone could respond he was gone.
Draco tsked. "You don't have to rescue me, you know," he murmured. "I can manage for myself. I think I owe you enough."
Potter shrugged. "You don't owe me anything, and I know I don't have to rescue you, but I'm told I have this 'saving people thing', so I figure I may as well live up to the reputation."
Draco, struggling not to smile, looked away. "How do you keep finding me, anyway?" he asked. "Anyone would think you're following me."
"Some habits are hard to break, I guess."
Surprised, Draco glanced at him. "Is this going to be a repeat of our sixth year, then?"
Potter laughed. "God, I hope not. It was exhausting trying to figure out what you were up to. You're not trying to sneak a bunch of Death Eaters into the school again, are you?"
Draco could feel himself flushing. "No," he snapped.
Potter sighed. "Sorry, that wasn't as funny as it sounded in my head. Um, I suppose I'm just used to paying attention to the things that you do, so I tend to notice when you wander off."
"You think I've been wandering off?"
"Haven't you?"
Draco cleared his throat, not prepared to talk to Potter about his private plans. "Was there something specific you wanted, Potter?"
"Yes. I was actually thinking that we could help each other. If people see us working together, maybe studying together, then they'll realize we're not enemies anymore and things may get better for you."
Draco blinked. "And what's in it for you?" he asked.
"I thought you could help me with Potions. I'm still pants at it."
"What about Granger? Can't she help you?"
"She's taking all sorts of really advanced classes and I don't want to add to her load. Slughorn's decent, but he seems to think I know more than I really do and..."
Draco nodded. "Snape told me about you using his book that year. He was quite miffed about it, actually." He smiled. "Yeah, all right. I'll tutor you in Potions, if only to see the faces of your friends and your girlfriend, especially since I know you can't have discussed this with them."
Potter coloured satisfyingly. "I'll have to say something to them before they think you bewitched me," he said.
Draco shrugged and turned away. "That's one good thing about not having any friends," he muttered. "No one cares who I associate with."
"But surely some of the younger Slytherins—"
"Are afraid to be around each other much less hang about with a known Death Eater," Draco finished bitterly. He bit his lip wondering what instinct had made him confide in Potter of all people.
"I'm sorry."
Draco almost responded scathingly until he remembered that Potter wasn't likely to be sarcastic in this situation. He was a Gryffindor, after all. He shook his head instead. "No help for it," he said. "So, shall we meet in the library this evening after dinner?"
Potter nodded and licked his lips, and Draco wondered when he'd begun to notice Potter's lips.
"Um, so where were you going?" Potter asked.
"Not sure," Draco muttered. "I wanted to find somewhere quiet, somewhere without the annoying whispers of my fellow schoolmates. Surely you can understand that?"
"Oh. Well, I guess I can. I know what it's like to have people taking about me all the time."
Draco relaxed. Potter didn't seem uncomfortable by his outburst at all. Perhaps he was someone he could spend time with instead of just a rival. "Yes, I suppose that's true."
Then Potter, to Draco's surprise, patted him on the back in what he no doubt hoped was a comforting gesture. Draco felt the heat of that touch all the way to his toes.
"What the hell are you doing? We're not friends, Potter." Draco stepped back, then bit his lip. Great. Offend the only person who's wanted to talk to you in a week. Smart move, Draco.
Potter actually smiled. "No, not yet. Although, you never know, it may yet happen. I'd say we're definitely not enemies."
There was little he could say to that, so Draco shrugged, and if he smiled on the walk back to the Great Hall, he was sure to duck his head so that Potter didn't see.
Harry wasn't consciously watching Malfoy, but he seemed to have a special knack for knowing when he was about. So, the third dinner in a row that Malfoy was missing, Harry decided to find out what was going on.
It had been a week since Harry had declared them, if not friends, then definitely not enemies, and despite the fact that were getting along in their special study sessions, to Harry it appeared that Malfoy was avoiding him at other times. He wondered why that thought hurt.
They shared many classes, specifically Potions with Slughorn, who often gave Malfoy particularly difficult assignments, so Harry decided to follow him after their double session the next day.
"Harry, where are you going? We're supposed to be studying tonight."
"Right, I know, Hermione," Harry replied hurriedly, watching Malfoy gather his things. "I, um, I'll be there, I just have something I need to do. See you later, yeah?"
"What? But—"
Harry waved her off, practically jogging after Malfoy, but by the time he got to the hallway, Malfoy was already way ahead, and as Harry watched he turned the corner. Taking the corner fast, Harry caught a glimpse of a robe and he followed, somehow not managing to catch up. He lost Malfoy somewhere on the seventh floor and he cursed to himself as he paced back and forth looking for how and where he could have disappeared.
"Where did you go?" he muttered, shoving his hand into his robes as he walked. When he encountered parchment in his pocket, Harry smiled. "Idiot," he muttered, pulling out the Marauder's Map.
"Oh I'm sure that's not true, dear," a friendly voice said.
Looking up, Harry saw a portrait and he relaxed. "Hullo. Sorry to bother you, but did you see a blond Slytherin come by here?"
The portrait, a middle-aged witch with her hair pulled back in a severe bun that reminded Harry of McGonagall, smiled. "Oh, I am sorry, dear," she said apologetically, "but I am sworn to secrecy. After all, the people who frequent this hallway are often in need of a bit of privacy."
"Er, okay." Harry sighed. Even the portraits were holding out on him. "Why's that, then?"
"I imagine you know, dear," she said. "After all, you were in need of the same sort of privacy in your fifth year."
"I... Oh!" Harry looked around, finally realizing where he was. The place looked a bit different, but he imagined that was because of the reconstruction after the battle. "Is the Room of Requirement still here?"
"If you really need to find it, you will, dear," the portrait said, and as Harry watched, she wandered out of the frame.
Harry sighed. If Malfoy was in the Room of Requirement, he'd never get in. "I need to know what he's up to," he muttered, pacing back and forth. "I wish he'd let me in—"
The click of a lock being undone was the first sign that of anything happening. Harry spun, staring at the wooden door that had not been there a moment before. Pushing it open before the room could change its mind, Harry slipped in, not sure what he would find.
The murmur of voices pulled him forward, and when Harry crept inside far enough to see who was there, he almost gasped loud enough to be discovered.
There, sitting in a chair facing a portrait, was Malfoy. It was the identity of the portrait that made Harry's eyes go wide.
"I don't know how to do it, Severus. I have to find a way to restore him and me."
Harry blinked. Malfoy had to be on close terms with Snape since he was calling him by his first name. Harry bit his lip, wondering how close they really were. They had run off together after Snape had killed Dumbledore...
"It's not something you can do on your own," Snape pronounced. "You shall require help."
Help? Harry narrowed his eyes. What were they talking about? Who were they hoping to restore?
Malfoy muttered something unintelligible, making Harry strain to hear him.
"...no one...to even...about it."
"Perhaps start by associating with people who you would be proud to be seen with, Draco." Snape's mellifluous tones rolled over Harry and he closed his eyes, wishing, not for the first time, that he'd somehow managed to go back and save Snape in the end. The vision of Snape lying in a pool of his own blood had haunted him for weeks.
"Look for people whose friendships have never failed," Snape then said, jarring Harry out of his stupor.
Malfoy laughed, and it had and edge of bitterness to it. "Oh God. I'll be making friends with Potter and his merry band of Gryffindors, then."
Snape, rather than laughing the way Harry expected him to, was quiet. "You could do worse," he finally said. "As annoying as they can be, Potter's band of miscreants have stuck by him, and continue to do so."
"They'll never accept me." Malfoy sounded defeated, and Harry almost stepped forward, only just stopping himself. Snape's next words made him blink.
"You're clever, Draco," Snape said. "I have known you all your life, and you always manage to get your way. Surely you're not about to allow a group of Gryffindors to defeat you?"
"I know what you're trying to do," Malfoy muttered, but as Harry glanced around the corner he could see he was smiling.
"You are eminently charming, Draco," Snape continued dryly. "You'll find a way. Now, if you don't leave you shall be late for Transfiguration."
Malfoy nodded and stood, picking up his rucksack. "You're right, I have to go." Looking up, Malfoy whispered, "It was good to talk to you. I... I've missed you."
"I...understand. I am always available," Snape said. "The fact that I was refused a place in the Headmistress' office simply means I am more easily accessible to you."
Harry bit his lip. Snape had been refused a place in McGonagall's office? Maybe he needed to share Snape's memories with her... Deep in thought he didn't notice as Malfoy walked past him and opened the door.
"Potter? You may come out now," Snape said.
Harry gasped, the sound loud in the room. Bloody hell!
"Surely you, brave Gryffindor, are not hiding?" Snape continued as Harry debated whether or not he should show himself.
"Sir?" Harry walked forward slowly, almost dreading his first look at Snape since his death. He looked up at the wall, relaxing as he took in Snape's familiar visage.
"Mr. Potter." Snape was smirking in his familiar way and Harry blinked. He'd been worried that Snape would have a gaping hole in his neck, but in that moment realized that such a fear was groundless.
"It's good to see you, Professor," he said, and for the first time, he meant it.
Snape inclined his head. "Believe it or not, Potter, I am pleased to see you as well." He squinted at Harry, then, surprisingly, smiled. "And, interestingly enough, my Legilimency skills appear to have made the transition with me."
Blushing, Harry looked away. "How did you know I was in here?" he asked.
"You mean apart from the fact that the room remained in this configuration after Draco left?
Feeling foolish, Harry nodded. "Yeah, apart from that."
"You were the likely candidate," Snape said. "You always show up where least expected."
Flushing brightly, Harry wondered how a mere portrait could make him feel like an eleven-year-old again.
"Did you come only to spy on Draco, or did you have a question?" Snape continued as Harry shuffled his feet before him. "I do have other places to be you, know."
"Yes, sir. Sorry." Harry chewed his bottom lip, then looked up. "What was Draco talking about earlier when he said he wanted to restore someone?"
Snape's eyes bored into his for a long moment. "Your concerns, while understandable, are groundless, Potter," he finally said. "Draco has no plans to try to resurrect Voldemort, even if it were possible, which it is not."
"Then who—?"
"I think you need to discuss that with Draco. As you no doubt heard, I have advised him to make some friends."
"With me? I don't think he—"
"What you need to consider, Potter, is how you got into the Room of Requirement in the first place." Snape spoke slowly as if to a small child and Harry bristled.
"I got in the way I usually do," he said. "I wished to find Malfoy and it showed me the door."
"And during your sixth year when you were, shall we say closely observing Draco, did wishing to get into the room while he was using it work?"
Harry blinked. "No," he said thoughtfully. "It didn't." His eyes narrowed. "You mean he wanted me to come in while he was here?"
Snape smirked. "Another question to ask him yourself, Potter. It seems to me as if you have a lot to say to Draco." Settling back into his chair, Snape picked up a book and began to read. "Be sure to close the door on your way out."
"Professor?"
Snape sighed and looked up inquiringly.
"I heard you say to Draco that he could always find you here. If... if I'd like to talk to you, may I come here, too?"
His eyebrows raised, Snape considered Harry for a long moment before nodding. "Very well, if you must. Now, if you are done..."
Harry smiled and turned away. "Thank you, sir," he murmured before leaving, and as he closed the door on the room, he straightened his shoulders, a weight he'd been unaware he'd been carrying finally lifted from him.
"...which is why the Jobberknoll is so important in Memory Potions," Draco explained. He paused, almost smiling at the blank look Potter gave him. He bit his lip to hide the urge. "And you look utterly lost. Is this making any sense?"
Potter nodded. "Um, sort of."
"Which means not at all," Draco sighed.
Potter smiled and it was sort of endearing, if you liked that sort of thing. Draco reminded himself that he definitely did not. "All right, let's try something different. Perhaps a practical demonstration."
They had already set up a cauldron with the potion brewing, so it was work of only a few moments for Draco to add the blue Jobberknoll wings to the mixture and show Potter how it changed to a golden yellow.
"You're very good at that," Potter said.
Draco glanced up, looking for sarcasm but only saw honest admiration on Potter's face. He coloured. "I am," he agreed. "Good thing, too, since I am tutoring you."
Potter smiled. "True." He reached for a stirring rod and Draco noticed the way the fabric of Potter's robes fell against his wrist. It was the second or third time he'd noticed Potter's clothes lately and he decided it was time he said something. Severus had said to make friends, after all.
"By the way, Potter, I've been meaning to tell you that you chose very well at Madam Malkin's," Draco said, keeping his eyes on the liquid he was stirring.
Potter paused, blinking at him in shock. "What?"
Draco shrugged. "Your wardrobe. Most of what I've seen you wearing this term hasn't been bad. Much better than the last few years, anyway."
Clearly pleased, Potter smiled and began stirring the potion alongside him. "Thanks. That's quite the compliment coming from you."
"What does that mean?"
"Er, well, you're very good at clothes. Quite the clothes horse."
"Are you trying to be funny?" Draco kept a straight face.
"What? No! I... I just meant you have a great wardrobe," Potter stuttered, eyes wide.
Smirking openly, Draco put out the flame and began decanting the potion. "I know, Potter. Believe it or not, I was teasing."
"Oh." Potter sent him a speculative look that made all of Draco's senses tingle. "Are we at the teasing stage, then?"
"Stage?"
"Of our friendship."
Draco shrugged, trying for nonchalance but not sure that he'd succeeded. If Potter considered him a friend he was on the right track. "It appears so," he murmured, trying to ignore the warm feeling Potter's words had given him.
"Harry?"
Both of them looked up at the intrusion.
"Hey, Hermione. Is it time for dinner already?"
She nodded. "How's it going?" she asked, eyeing the vials they were decanting curiously.
Draco pushed several of the vials at Potter. "Drink one of these just before you study," he instructed. "Then read the chapters I told you to. It may help."
Potter flushed and Draco found himself staring at his lips for a long moment before looking away.
"Thanks, Malfoy. See you tomorrow." Potter touched his arm briefly and smiled. Draco jumped, then refused to look in Granger's direction, knowing she was too perceptive by far.
"Yes, all right, tomorrow," he muttered, waving his hands dismissively.
When Potter left, trailing after Granger, Draco cleaned up, wondering at the urge he had to smile.
"Things seem to be going well with Malfoy," Hermione said as they walked away from the laboratory.
Harry glanced at her. "Yeah, he's, um, not a bad sort, actually."
"He's definitely making an effort with you," she said.
"What do you mean?"
"When you're not around he doesn't talk to anyone, haven't you noticed?"
"What?" Harry frowned. "No, I hadn't. Surely he talks to the other Slytherins—"
"There aren't that many of them. They are all much younger, anyway."
"I suppose."
"So what do you talk about when you're together?"
"Well he is tutoring me—"
"Surely you don't only talk about Potions, Harry," Hermione interrupted. "You must talk about other things."
Harry shrugged. "Not really. There are a lot of topics that I think we've agreed to avoid, not that we've ever discussed it out loud."
Hermione nodded. "Well just be careful," she advised. "People are noticing that you're getting close."
"People?"
"Ginny, specifically."
"I don't know what you mean."
Stopping just before they walked into the Great Hall, Hermione turned to face him. "It just looks as if you're becoming good friends with Malfoy, Harry," she said. "And I think it's good, I do. But Ginny still hopes that you and she will, well, I think you know what she's hoping for."
He nodded. "Yeah, I do. But my making friends with Malfoy shouldn't interfere with whatever does or doesn't happen with Ginny, should it?"
She smiled. "Depends on the nature of your friendship with Malfoy, I'd say."
"I don't under—"
"Oi, there you are!" Ron clapped Harry on the back. "Ready for dinner? I think there's treacle tart tonight, mate."
As they sat down and began to eat, Harry wondered what Hermione had been getting at. Surely he could be friends with both Ginny and Malfoy. Couldn't he?
"May I sit here?"
The soft voice came from his left and Draco glanced over, eyes raking over the Slytherin girl who was standing there. She was one of the Nott sisters. Emily, he thought. He shrugged and she sat down.
"Can I ask you a question?"
Eyebrow raised, Draco smirked. "I believe you just did."
But Emily would not be denied. "Why won't you talk to us?" she asked.
Draco stiffened. "What do you mean? Talk to whom?"
She looked away. "You're the oldest Slytherin in the school and you never talk to any of the rest of us. You just walk through the common room and ignore us as if we don't exist."
"Why should I talk to any of you?" Draco asked, turning away to peer out at the lake. "I should think it's dangerous enough being a Slytherin on your own without associating with known ex-Death Eaters."
"So it's for our protection?" Emily snorted, making Draco stare at her.
"Hardly," he muttered. "Do you mind? I was trying to enjoy the day."
"Funny, looked to me as if you were brooding."
"And what if I was? What is it to you?"
She leaned forward. "Look, Malfoy. Like it or not, you are a leader in this school. You're the only one in your year to come back, and since only half the seventh-years returned, you're the closest thing we have to a role model."
Draco laughed bitterly. "Me? A role model? Go and pull the other one, will you?"
But Emily clearly wasn't done. "Haven't you noticed that no one in Slytherin is playing pranks anymore? They're afraid to step out of line, afraid that the other students all think we're plotting against them or something."
"Plotting? Honestly, if you think the other houses are against you it's probably because they are."
"The Ravenclaws hex us when the professors aren't looking."
"Hex them back," Draco gritted out, beginning to get annoyed.
"When we do the professors take points. And we don't know all the cool hexes that used to be passed down from year to year." Emily sat back. "We need someone who doesn't think we're automatically evil to teach us. They won't teach us anything they think we can use for Dark magic."
"Slughorn is our Head of House. Go to him if you're so concerned."
"He's too busy throwing parties for 'important' students from the other houses to pay attention to us." Now Emily sounded bitter and Draco for the first time turned to face her fully.
"What do you want me to do?" he finally asked.
She smiled. "Well that's easy," she said. "Show us how to be Slytherins. Teach us what we need to know. Surely you can do that?"
Draco smiled slowly.
"What is the deal with Malfoy, Harry?"
Harry looked up at Ginny as she stood over the sofa he was stretched out on. "What do you mean?" he asked, setting aside his book for a moment. "He's tutoring me in Potions."
Ginny frowned and looked around as if checking that no one else was in earshot. "People are beginning to talk," she whispered.
"About what?" Harry patted the cushion next to him and she sat perched on the edge.
"About you and Malfoy spending so much time together. Can't you see it's a bit odd?"
"Why? The war's over and we're just trying to get along."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "I know this would never occur to you, but the way you act when you're together..." She bit her lip. "It's almost as if you're more than friends."
"More than—?" Harry froze, finally understanding what she was saying, and what Hermione had been trying to warn him about earlier. "You mean people think we're together together?"
"Some." Ginny looked away and her cheeks were bright pink. "I have to ask you, do you like boys?"
"What?"
"Are you—? Is that why we broke up?"
"Ginny—" Harry paused, eyes wide.
"I mean if you like boys, Harry, it's no shame," Ginny continued hurriedly. "It's just that Malfoy is probably not the best choice, yeah?"
Harry, still a bit dazed at the images going through his head, still didn't respond.
Ginny leaned forward insistently. "I know you think you know him now, but what do you really know? He's still the spoiled, bigoted boy you met your first year."
"He's changed," Harry bit out.
"I know you keep saying that, but where's the proof? So he hasn't hexed anyone, but only that you know of. What is he doing when he's not around you? Did you know he goes off into the Forbidden Forest at odd times?"
Harry's head snapped up and she smiled. "You see? You may not know him as well as you think. So maybe you should stop hanging about with him for a bit, just until people stop talking."
Shaking his head, Harry looked at her. "And just when will that be?" he asked quietly.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, people have been talking about me since I was a baby and Voldemort killed my parents. They'll never stop talking about me and at this point I've begun to realize I'll never be able to make them stop."
"So you're all right with people thinking that you're snogging or maybe even more with Draco Malfoy?"
Harry shrugged. "It's not as if I can do anything about it,' he said. "And honestly, since nothing's going on, people can talk all they want. The people I care about all know the truth and the rest can go hang for all I care. I'm going to put my books away and go to dinner."
Gathering up his books, Harry walked off, feeling Ginny's stare as he went. He sighed, wondering if Malfoy knew people were talking about them as a couple. Smiling, he wondered why the thought wasn't that upsetting to him. And then he wondered what exactly Malfoy was doing in the Forbidden Forest.
By the time Malfoy arrived for their session that evening, Harry had spent several hours brooding and was spoiling for a fight.
"Right, so did you do the reading I assigned you last time?" Malfoy asked, sliding into the seat across from Harry. He began unloading his book bag and so didn't see Harry's frown.
"Yes, I did." Harry managed a civil enough tone.
"And?"
"It made sense I suppose."
"You suppose?" Malfoy focussed on Harry and the piercing look made him squirm. "If you're going to be this casual about our sessions, Potter, maybe we should just forget them. Are you even trying?" His voice was teasing, but Harry was having none of it.
"I was about to ask you that!" Harry bit his lip at how accusatory his hissed statement sounded. He hadn't meant to antagonize Malfoy but that vow seemed doomed to failure.
"What are you talking about?" The friendly tone gone, Malfoy sat back and crossed his arms.
"You're always late for these sessions. What are you always so busy doing, anyway?"
"I do have other classes, Potter."
"In the Forbidden Forest?"
Malfoy's eyes narrowed and his tone went icy. "I wasn't aware you were keeping such close track of me. Are you spying on me again? Have you reverted to your sixth-year behaviour?"
Harry flushed but kept going. "Why do you care? Are you plotting a takeover of the school again?"
Malfoy shook his head and stood up. "Who would want it?" he asked. He began packing up his bag. "I should have known that this — whatever this is — wouldn't last."
"What are you talking about?" Harry, too, stood to better face Malfoy.
"This 'friendship'." Malfoy sneered as he spoke. "Pretty words, but this was all only a ploy to continue to spy on me, wasn't it?"
"I haven't been spying, I just heard that you'd been spending a lot of time there and I—"
"You what? Decided that I must be up to something?"
"No!"
Both of them started as a bunch of Ravenclaws several tables over shushed them.
"Watch it, Potter," Malfoy spat. "Or you'll lose your library privileges." With that he slung his bag over his shoulder and stalked out of the library past Harry.
Harry grabbed his things and followed, catching up with Malfoy in the hallway which was, thankfully, deserted. "Just a minute, Malfoy," he called. "I wasn't done!"
"I was." Malfoy kept going and Harry, irate, sped up and grabbed his arm, spinning him around. Malfoy ended up against the wall with Harry's hands on his shoulders, Harry snarling in his face.
"I wasn't," he growled, leaning close. "Will you please just listen? I wasn't accusing you of anything."
"Certainly sounded like you were to me," Malfoy spat back. "Am I supposed to report my every action to you now?"
"Bloody hell," Harry swore. "That is not what I'm saying! Look, people talk, and they watch you, hell, they watch the both of us, and they see you going to the forest so they speculate—"
"Let them," Malfoy interrupted. "It's not as if they're not going to find something bad to say about me no matter what I do. Haven't you realized yet, Potter? I am damaged goods. No matter what I do, people will think I'm evil. I had thought you were different, but—"
"I am different." Harry wasn't sure when his pushing Malfoy against the wall had turned into something else, but it clearly had. He swallowed hard and licked his lips, moving his face closer to Malfoy's when he saw Malfoy's eyes following the movement of his tongue. "We're both different from the way we were," he murmured.
Malfoy opened his mouth, his parted lips capturing Harry's attention. He appeared to be about to say something, but just then was interrupted.
"Is everything all right out here?"
At that query, Harry pulled away from Malfoy. "Oh, yes, fine, Madam Pince." He flushed and looked away.
"I see. Is that correct, Mr. Malfoy?"
"Yes," Malfoy muttered, straightening up from the wall. "We're fine."
"I'll not tolerate fighting near my library, gentlemen. Disturbs the book, you know. Take it elsewhere." She speared each of them with a stern look before sweeping back inside.
Harry ran a hand though his hair and met Malfoy's eyes warily. "Look. I'm sorry about before, I guess I overreacted a bit. And for the record, I do take our friendship seriously."
"You still think that's what this is?" Malfoy whispered. "A friendship?"
"Yeah." Harry tried to smile. "What else could it be?"
Malfoy looked away and when he looked back he was smirking, his superior mask back in place. "What else indeed. All right. I have to go back to the dungeons, Potter. See you tomorrow."
As Harry watched him walk away, he struggled to remember why they had been fighting in the first place.
When the door to the Room of Requirement appeared, it didn't occur to Draco to check if someone else was already in there. So when he walked in and saw Potter talking to Severus, he blinked.
Neither of them saw him enter, however, so he remained silent and listened.
"I actually prefer my current location, Potter," Severus was saying. "Much as your efforts are... appreciated, I think you'll find that trying to change Minerva McGonagall's mind is a virtually impossible task."
"But she can't know how much you did to ensure our victory," Potter said. "I can tell her and I bet when I do she'll put you up in her office."
"Where I shall have to talk to the other headmasters?" Severus asked dryly. "Indeed, that is not my preference. Now, can we get the real reason that you're here?"
Draco leaned closer just in time to hear Potter mention his name and mumble something about restoring someone. His eyes narrowed. Had Potter been here the last time he'd been in?
"That again?" Severus asked. "I believe I told you previously that these are issues that you should be discussing with him, Mr. Potter. As my reassurances about his intentions were unsuccessful the last time, I hardly imagine they will work today."
"But he's so secretive," Potter muttered. "He won't talk to me."
"And why is that?"
Potter flushed. "I may have antagonized him a little."
"Really? You? Imagine that."
"I tried to ask him what he's up to but I guess it came out like an accusation and then we were yelling and then—"
Draco smirked, wondering how Potter would describe what happened next.
"Yes?" Severus was purring, and Draco could only imagine the look on his mentor's face. "And then?"
"We, um, stopped arguing when Madam Pince interrupted us. But since then he's avoided me."
"I see. So all that heavy breathing and hormonal posturing was because of being interrupted during an argument?"
"I... What? You saw that? But how?"
"Indeed, yes, I saw you slam Draco against the wall. Have you forgotten that portraits can travel?"
"That was just because he wasn't listening to me," Potter said, and to Draco's eyes he looked quite defensive. "I had to get him to listen, didn't I? We had to resolve our argument."
"I'd say you have other things to resolve as well, Mr. Potter."
"What do you mean?"
Draco smothered a laugh. Of course Potter couldn't appreciate Severus' jibe, but he'd got it very clearly. Now he just had to decide what to do about it. Clearly the tension was mutual.
"Never mind, Potter." Severus sounded bored now. "I have told you that I cannot explain Draco's rationale to you, and I have no wish to be moved, so, if you have no further use for me, Mr. Malfoy appears to be waiting for my sage advice."
Draco's head shot up in time to see Potter staring at him. "How long have you been there?" he asked.
Draco shrugged. "A few minutes. Not as long as you eavesdropped on me, apparently."
Potter had the grace to blush. "That was an accident," he muttered.
Crossing his arms, Draco decided to go on the offensive. "So, what is it that you so badly want to ask me?"
"Who are you trying to restore?"
Draco blinked, confused. "Excuse me? Could you provide some context, please?"
"The last time I heard you talking to Snape, you said something about 'restoring' someone," Potter said.
Nodding, Draco glanced at Severus, who appeared to be engrossed in a book, although Draco knew he was paying close attention. Severus' eyebrow went up slightly and Draco sighed, recognizing the message.
"My father," he said. "He's taken his losses in the war, especially the loss of his wand, very hard. He's... not himself. What you overheard was me talking about restoring him and the Malfoy name."
"Oh." Potter looked sheepish and Draco felt a surge of triumph until he spoke again. "What about all the time you're spending in the Forbidden Forest?"
Severus flinched and Draco bit his lip. "I don't see how that's any of your bus—"
"I get that you're on some sort of a quest to clear your name, Malfoy," Potter interrupted. "But people are seeing us together and they think we're friends. I like to think we are friends, actually. If we are, then I need to know what you're doing."
Severus was tapping his foot impatiently and Draco sighed. "The Slytherins asked me to tutor them," he muttered. "So I am."
"Tutor them? Why should you need to do that? Are they not being adequately taught by their professors in their classes?" Severus' voice was low and dangerous.
Draco slanted a look at Severus. "I have no idea," he said, face deliberately bland. "All I know is that we keep losing points. When I ask, the younger years tell me that they don't want to draw attention to themselves because they have been encouraged not to."
"Oh?"
Draco inclined his head. "Yes, so the professors think they're not paying attention. In addition, students from other houses are hexing them and when they try to retaliate, the professors dock more points."
"They should not be getting caught," Severus said.
"And I'm tutoring them in how to do that," Draco replied.
Potter began to laugh, much to Draco's shock. "It's like a Slytherin version of Dumbledore's Army," he chortled. "We used this room to have our meetings."
"I remember," Draco said, smiling. "You drove that fat cow, Umbridge, mad with that, d'you know?"
"Indeed," Severus said. "But the bigger issue is this 'encouragement' my Slytherins are receiving. Does Minerva know about this?"
Draco shrugged. "No idea."
"And what of these... extracurricular activities? Is she aware of them?"
"Again, I have no idea," Draco said. "We do it outside of school hours. Unless she bans all school activities, we'll be fine."
Harry snorted. "Except for, you know, being in the Forbidden Forest."
Draco shrugged. "I suppose," he said. "It's going well, though."
"Except their education is suffering," Severus murmured thoughtfully.
Draco lifted his chin. "We're Slytherin. We'll manage."
"Maybe I can help." Potter flushed as both Draco and Severus stared at him.
"You what?" Draco was staring with his mouth open. Had Potter just offered to help a bunch of Slytherins?
Potter nodded emphatically and said it again. "I think I can help," he insisted. "I have done something similar before, after all. Plus, what else are friends for?"
Draco was careful not to look at Severus. "Friends? Yes, all right. Why not?"
"Mr. Potter?"
It took Potter a long moment to look up at Severus. Draco almost smiled at Potter's obvious difficulty in looking away from him.
"Sir?"
"You recall the issue we were discussing earlier?"
Potter nodded.
"Perhaps we should work out a strategy before you approach the Headmistress. I am not pleased to hear that my... that Slytherin students may be getting the short shrift in their education, and it may be time that she hears the truth about my wartime role from you so that someone who cares about my house has the headmistress' ear."
"You'll let them put you up in the Headmistress' office, then?"
Severus sighed, appearing exasperated. "As I have just said. Do pay attention, Potter! Now, this is how we go about it..."
As they talked, Draco watched Potter. He really was pretty attractive once you looked beyond the Gryffindor bravado... Draco ducked his head and sighed. Trust Potter to get under his skin.
When an unexpected hand touched his arm, Draco looked up and into Potter's eyes and froze. Mouth going dry, Draco couldn't for the life of him think of anything to say.
"Yes, indeed, nothing to resolve there," Snape's drawled.
Draco shot him a dirty look.
"Tell me about these lessons you're giving," Potter said, bringing Draco's attention back to him. He touched Draco's hand briefly.
Draco nodded. "All right. Come with me."
"I never thought I'd see the day we'd be helping Slytherins," Ron grumbled. "How did Harry rope us into this?"
"Shush, Ron," Hermione scolded. "It's only right that we help. The professors have apparently decided that the Slytherins shouldn't learn the same things they're teaching the rest of us." A stubborn look crossed her face. "That can't be allowed."
"I dunno," Ron muttered. "They are Slytherins. I can see their point."
Hermione turned on him. "Ronald! That's just what the Death Eaters did, only to Muggle-borns, can't you see? Once you deny knowledge to a group of people, you become an oppressor."
Ron flushed. "Yeah, yeah, you're right," he said. "But still, they're—"
"Students," Hermione finished firmly. "Now, you take that group and I'll take this one. Let's at least make sure they can defend themselves."
Smiling a bit at the conversation he'd just overheard, Harry walked past Hermione and Ron and circled to where Ginny was working with a group of first-years. She caught his eye and he paused as she walked towards him.
"Everything all right?" he asked.
She nodded. "It's sort of fun, actually," she said. "They're not that different than we were their age."
Harry smiled. "Yeah, they really aren't."
"You do have to watch those twins, though," she said, gesturing towards a pair of brown-haired boys who were practicing their swish and flick technique. "They're fully as bad as George and Fred were."
Seeing a sad look cross her face, Harry gave her a quick hug. She smiled.
"No fraternizing in front of the babies," said a voice behind them.
Harry chuckled and spun to face Malfoy. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me, Potter."
Ginny shook her head. "I'll just go and teach some more, shall I? While you two sort this out."
"I think she knows, Potter," Malfoy murmured.
"Knows?"
"That you lust after me."
"Git. You wish."
"Why do you even resist, Potter?"
Harry's breath caught at the plaintive note in Malfoy's voice. "I'm not sure I know, actually," he admitted hoarsely. He almost smiled when Malfoy's head shot up.
"Are you—" Malfoy's voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying I think I may not want to be friends with you anymore, Malfoy." Before Malfoy could react to that, Harry grabbed his hand. "In fact, I think we may be a bit beyond friendship at this point."
Malfoy stared at him. To the side, a student went flying as another finally managed a successful Disarming Spell, and still he stared at Harry.
Stepping closer, Harry inclined his head. "Walk with me?" he whispered.
Malfoy nodded and turned away, leading the way from the clearing and out past some trees.
Once they were out of sight, Harry said, "I think we can—"
Spinning rapidly, Malfoy pushed Harry up against the nearest tree trunk, insinuating his thigh between Harry's legs. Harry's breath whooshed from his lungs as his back impacted the bark hard. "I think," he rasped, his mouth hovering close to the line of Harry's jaw, "that we are so far beyond mere friendship that it's ridiculous, Potter."
"Harry."
"What?"
"If we're about to snog, and I hope we are, you should call me Harry."
Malfoy smiled and it made Harry shiver. "I hope I'll be a bit too busy with my mouth to say anything, Harry," he murmured, and before Harry could react to that he was being kissed, his lips were being parted and he finally got to taste Malfoy, no, Draco's mouth, the flavour of strong tea and cinnamon exploding over his tongue.
His hands gripped Draco's robes tightly as Harry tried to drag him closer and suck his lungs out through his mouth.
Harry could feel Draco's fingers fiddling with his robes, then his shirt, and when, somehow, a nail scraped over Harry's erect nipple, Harry arched into Draco's embrace, moaning into Draco's mouth.
Tearing his mouth from Harry's, Draco gasped for air for a second before dipping his head and pressing his mouth to Harry's pulse point. He sucked strongly, eliciting a rumbling groan from Harry's throat.
Harry's hands had by then burrowed beneath Draco's robes and he was fumbling with the fastenings to his trousers. His fingers brushed against Draco's prick, and the low growl that was Draco's response had Harry moaning in sympathy.
Rocking against Harry, Draco managed to expose Harry's cock just as Harry's hand wrapped around Draco's bare flesh. "Fuck," Harry moaned.
"I like the way you think," Draco groaned, speeding up his movements.
"I can't—" The back of Harry's head hit the tree when Draco collected both their pricks in his hand and began to squeeze and slide them together. "Draco!"
"Shh!" Draco's lips skimmed Harry's jaw before settling over his mouth once more. This time the kiss was slow, Draco's tongue sliding against Harry's slick membranes as if savouring and memorizing every inch.
Harry had worked the edge of Draco's shirt loose and managed to slip his hands under the waistband to cup Draco's arse and pull him closer. One of his fingers slid into the crack and Harry felt Draco's resultant shudder all the way to his toes.
Hips still thrusting, Draco dragged his mouth away from Harry's and gasped, "Bloody hell, Harry. Are you trying to kill me?"
"Me? You're the one — oh God — who shoved me into a tree."
"Are you objecting?" Harry wasn't sure how Draco could sound like that, voice smooth and steady, as if he didn't have two cocks in his hand, as if the way they felt together wasn't making his nerves melt.
"Fuck, no." Harry's hips were thrusting of their own volition now, anything to bring him closer to what was promising to be the best orgasm of his life thus far...
"Good," Draco purred, his lips now brushing the shell of Harry's ear. "Because when we get back, I'm going to take my time undressing you slowly. Then I'm going to lick every inch of you until you beg me to stop. Would you like that?"
That was it. Harry wasn't sure how Draco knew he was about to come, but he did, and just as a scream was about to escape Harry's throat, Draco clamped his lips over Harry's and pulled his cock firmly.
Harry's come spurted from him and over Draco's hand and cock, and that was enough to pull Draco's orgasm from him Harry dimly realized as he felt hot liquid splashing his exposed stomach.
They shook in tandem, embracing and panting to catch their breath until a distant voice broke through Harry's reverie. He stiffened.
"Is that—?"
"McGonagall," Draco finished, pulling back. "Fuck! I think she's found my class."
His arms now empty, Harry was momentarily confused as to why he was cold until it occurred to him that he was half naked and leaning against a tree in Scotland. He reached for his fly but Draco was quicker, lacing him up with a few efficient movements. A whispered Cleansing Spell had them both ready to face the Headmistress.
"I can talk to her for you," Harry offered as they started for the clearing.
Draco took his hand. "I suspect we'll both have to talk to her," he said. "But it'll be nice to have some company." Just then he appeared to lose his footing and would have gone tumbling if not for Harry, who caught him.
"Don't worry," Harry whispered. "I won't let you fall. I've got you."
Draco blinked as if seeing a ghost.
"You all right?" Harry asked.
"Accept the help when offered, just like she said..." Draco murmured, looking at Harry strangely.
"What?" Harry peered at Draco closely. "You didn't hit your head, did you?" he asked, concerned.
Draco smiled. "No, I'm fine. It's just..." He shook his head. "Never mind. It was something someone said to me once. She gave me some advice and she's proved to be remarkably accurate."
"Oh? What did she say?"
Turning to face the clearing once more, Draco squared his shoulders, a determined look on his face. "I'll tell you one day. Come on, let's go deal with McGonagall." And if Draco seemed eager, Harry simply chalked it up to their erotic plans later. Thinking about what was to come, he had to admit, he was pretty eager, too.
McGonagall wasn't too hard to persuade, Draco found. It helped a great deal that the Golden Trio were involved in the tutoring sessions, and the fact that Harry had arranged for her to talk to Severus' portrait in the Room of Requirement was no small thing either.
Draco saw her face after she'd spoken with Severus and he imagined that conversation had been quite illuminating.
Despite being officially moved to the Headmistress' office and given a prominent spot on the wall there, Severus remained accessible to Draco through the Room of Requirement, for which Draco was grateful.
Harry's friends seemed to accept him easily enough, and although both of the Weasleys and Granger had taken him aside individually and threatened him with dismemberment if he hurt Harry, it hadn't been that bad. Draco hadn't told them that Slytherins were much more imaginative when it came to threats.
Funnily enough, it was when the news got out to the papers that he and Harry were an item that he found the Malfoy name restored. Harry gave an interview that cinched his rehabilitation in the public's eyes, and the day it was published found Draco sitting at his window waiting for his father's owl to arrive.
Harry waited with him.
"You don't have to stay," Draco said, eyes fixed on a point in the distance. "He may not have seen it yet."
Harry snorted. "It's late, everyone's seen it. How likely is it that your father hasn't?"
"Not very," Draco admitted. Leaning back against Harry he tried to leech a bit of his warmth. "The fact that it's taken him a while to write to me could be good or bad."
"We can find something to occupy us while we wait," Harry said.
Relaxing, Draco grinned and turned around, pushing Harry back onto the bed. "Oh?" he purred, loving the way Harry's eyes darkened as he lay on top of him. "And what would that be?"
Instead of answering, Harry pulled his face down and Draco lost himself in Harry's now familiar taste and scent. The distraction was a successful one; the tapping at the window a few minutes later actually came as a surprise.
After letting his father's owl in and feeding it a treat, Draco sat for quite some time, staring at the rolled up parchment. The owl hadn't waited for an answer and that made Draco nervous. It was when Harry placed his hand over his that Draco finally opened it.
The message was, of course, succinct. Draco stared at its few lines for a long moment before looking up at Harry and smiling. "Apparently Father approves of your efforts on behalf of our family name. And he says to tell you he appreciates you having talked to Ollivander on his behalf. What is he talking about?"
Harry coloured. "When you told me about your father's missing wand, I owled Ollivander," he admitted. "He did me a favour and matched him from memory."
Draco shook his head, holding Harry's eyes with his. "You're incredible, you know that? You didn't have to do that."
"Of course I did." A serious look crossed his face. "You were hurting and I could help. How could I not?"
"How can I thank you?" Draco whispered.
Leaning back onto the pillows, Harry smiled. "You'll think of a way."
Later that night, once Draco had finished demonstrating to Harry just how very grateful he was, he lay in the circle of Harry's arms, listening to Harry's soft snores and staring at the stars. He had been a fool, and yet, he'd managed to end up in an impossibly good position, his whole life ahead of him. Yes, he'd somehow made a better future, but it wasn't over yet. It was bound to get better with Harry in it. Closing his eyes, he curled closer to Harry and slept.
"A Tarot card reader?" Harry barked a laugh and ran a hand through his still black hair. Draco squinted at him. Was that a grey hair he'd just spotted? He smiled to himself, patting his own very full head of hair, once again thanking the powers that be for his good fortune in inheriting Lucius' looks. Even if he hadn't inherited anything else.
"Is that so difficult to believe?" he asked.
Harry shook his head. "Why would you go to a Tarot card reader? All that stuff is rot. We've all known that since... Well, since Trelawney's classes our third year here."
Draco looked away, eyes now focussed on the distant horizon. "I knew Trelawney was a charlatan, but now that I look back at it, this woman seemed..." He trailed off searching for words.
Harry laid a hand on his. "She seemed what?"
"As if she knew what she was talking about," Draco said. "As if she really saw something in those cards. And it's not as if I sought her out. I think she found me, actually. She told me what I need to know. Anyway, why are you complaining? You asked how I think we ended up together and now I've told you."
"She predicted that we'd end up together?"
Shaking his head, Draco leaned close and brushed his lips against Harry's. "Do keep up, Harry. No. She just told me just enough so that I would make it happen," he murmured.
"So what did she tell you?"
Draco smiled. "Just enough so that I wouldn't lose hope in the future. Just enough so that when you came into my life I was ready." He leaned close to kiss Harry again, marvelling at how this never got old.
"Dear God spare me the romantic drivel."
Harry shook with silent laughter before looking up at the portrait of Severus that was staring down at them with ill-disguised contempt. "You have a comment, Severus? Draco and I were just having a bit of a private discussion, but you know we value your opinion."
"Yes, so I see," Severus sneered. "Well, my opinion is that all soothsayers, Seers and Tarot card readers are frauds. And your discussion has managed to put all the other portraits to sleep."
Draco raised an eyebrow. "If we're so boring you could leave, you know."
"As could you." Severus stared back.
"It's my office." Draco smiled. "I believe that the sitting, living Headmaster has precedence."
Severus sniffed. "Semantics," he muttered, although he did stand up and walk out.
"So you think you encountered an accurate Seer?" Harry turned back to Draco and smiled. "Maybe you should try to hire her to work here?"
Draco shrugged. "Doubt I could find her. More than likely she's out there somewhere giving some ungrateful snot good advice. Plus, it was over twenty years ago. She may be dead."
"Twenty years or no, you still look the same to me," Harry said.
Draco smiled and took his hand. "Mm, and you to me," he murmured. "Now, shall we retire to our rooms and allow Severus to return to his portrait without having to watch the Headmaster and the Defence professor snog?"
"Or shag on the Headmaster's desk?" Harry said wickedly.
Draco chuckled. "Or that."
"Brilliant."
"Just one moment." Draco flicked his wand and repositioned the empty portrait slightly. "There, now he has a pleasant view when he returns."
Harry snickered. "Yes, of sheep grazing on the hillside."
Draco shrugged. "He can't say we've never done anything for him."
As they exited, leaving laughter in their wake, the clock on the mantle, a wedding gift from the Weasleys, rang midnight, the hand pointed to "all is well".