Second Chance (2025 Christmas Story) - Chapter 8

Title: Second Chance – Chapter Eight
Author: sesheta_66 || AO3: sesheta_66
Prompts used: slythindor100’s early bird prompt Y—Nutcrackers and Other Festive Figurines (picture under the cut) and dracoharry100’s prompt 7: Nutcracker
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 1.4K (this part)
Rating: R (eventually; this part PG)
Warning: none
Summary: This is the second Christmas for Draco without Astoria and Harry's first since Ginny remarried. Will best friends Scorpius and Albus be just what they need to rekindle something they'd thought fleeting and lost forever?
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Notes: Written for the slythindor100 Early Bird 25 Days of Draco and Harry and the dracoharry100 Christmas Challenge.

On LJ: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

OR on AO3





Second Chance – Chapter 8

Harry arrived at the office early, wanting to get some paperwork out of the way before the day really began. Fortunately, Ron hadn't returned to the office yesterday, which meant he hadn't yet heard about Draco. Harry suspected he'd be getting an earful, so he might as well accomplish something before the shit hit the fan.

Draco's reply had come just as he was leaving for the day, and Harry wasn't sure what to make of it. He'd been direct and professional, and yet …

Harry had spent half the night thinking about the man – not good, if they were going to have a professional relationship. Relationship. Bloody hell. Any kind of relationship with Draco was bound to be a problem. For sure with Ron, but even without that looming.

Their past had been tricky, but had become exponentially so after the war. Narcissa and Draco had both sent owls expressing their gratitude, Harry had replied, and he had thought that had been the end of it. Then Narcissa had sent another owl, spewing some nonsense about a life debt and that he could call upon them at any time.

After seven years, Harry thought he'd seen everything there was to see about the wizarding world – how mistaken he had been – and was floored by this seemingly open-ended offer. He'd replied at once, directly and emphatically insisting that he had done nothing to warrant such an offer or debt. They had each acted to help him, for whatever reason, during the war, and he had done nothing more than tell the Wizengamot the truth. He was owed nothing. They had all helped one another and that was that.

It had taken a few days, but eventually Narcissa had replied, once more thanking Harry, and wishing him well. Done.

And then, a few weeks later, Harry had been in Diagon Alley, looking at a Christmas display case filled with nutcrackers, thinking that he would like to get one for Teddy, when he'd heard a disturbance. Draco was being forced out of a shop at wandpoint, told he had no business shopping there. And a crowd had formed, surrounding him, manhandling him, clearly itching to do more. Harry hadn't hesitated – of course he hadn't; when had he ever thought before acting? He'd walked up to the crowd, who had disbursed at his approach. All but one. He'd sneered at Harry, "Going to come rescue your bitch again?"

Harry had laughed. He couldn't help it. The pathetic excuse for a man was a joke. "Actually, I'm thinking more along the lines of saving you from yourself. These are post-war times, and attacking random people on the street is frowned upon these days. Best be getting along, now."

"He's no random bloke."

Harry had grinned as menacingly as he could. "You've got that right. He's been trained by Voldemort. You might want to check your wand at the door before messing with him." The crowd that he'd been with vanished at the utterance of the name. Harry grinned again. "Looks like your posse has deserted you. Whatever will you do?"

He'd scampered. Obviously.

Then Draco had turned on Harry. "What did you do that for? I could have handled myself!"

"I know you could have. But I thought you might not have, given the number of people, including Aurors, that would like to see you in a cage. And if you had handled yourself it's not implausible that you would have ended up exactly there."

"What's it to you, Potter?"

Harry'd closed the distance between them and put a finger to his chin. "Let's see. I'm entering Auror training soon, I testified on your behalf, and Ron isn't speaking to me as a result. You're welcome, by the way." Draco had glared at that. "I'd really rather not prove Ron right. So let's just say I was protecting my reputation. Don't want people to think I'd misjudged someone so badly that he'd landed himself in prison mere weeks after I'd testified."

Draco hadn't known what to say, and instead had stood there with his mouth open. "Since your mouth is open," Harry mused, "care to put something in it?" Malfoy's face had gone as scarlet as Harry's Gryffindor robes, and only then did he realise what he'd said. "Food, Malfoy. Perhaps a beverage."

"What?"

"I haven't eaten, and was planning to head to the pub and grab lunch. Care to join me?"

Not sure if he'd gone along because he'd been utterly gobsmacked at the invitation, was still recovering from whatever the hell he'd thought Harry had been suggesting, or because he was hungry, Harry hadn't asked, and Draco hadn't said. But he'd gone along, all the same.

"What the ever loving fuck?" Ron's voice interrupted Harry's thoughts. He barged in, slammed the door and stood glaring at Harry.

Harry chuckled. "I take it you've spoken with Drummond?"

"Yes, I've spoken with Drummond, and I'm not working with that ferret."

Harry suppressed a grin as he remembered fourth year and not-Mad-Eye turning Draco into a ferret. "No one is asking you to work with him."

"And Drummond won't be working with him either."

"Ron, sit down."

"I won't sit down! You can't do this!"

Harry stood. "You will sit down and you will stop screaming at me like a deranged lunatic. Need I remind you that in this place, in my office, I am your boss."

Ron looked like he was about to yell some more, took a moment to process Harry's words, then sat down, glaring mutinously. "He's a fucking tosser and my team won't be working with him."

"Your team, including you, will work with whomever I say they will work with. Ron opened his mouth to argue but Harry put up his hand to stop him. "Relax, I am not asking you, or telling you, to work with him. He'll be working with the lab, on the most part. If he works with anyone at all – and it's a big 'if'. He hasn't agreed, and I haven't signed him on. He's due here at ten."

Ron looked at the clock and seemed to consider his options. "But you're going to, if he agrees?"

"Yes." Ron spluttered, but Harry cut him off. "He's been highly recommended. He's worked with Mungo's a lot, apparently, and they said he's the best there is."

"But it's Malfoy!"

Harry frowned, wondering when Ron would ever move on. "I don't give a damn who it is, as long as he can help us catch this bastard before more kids die. And that should be your priority too."

Ron took his time replying. Through gritted teeth, he said, "Fine. But I don't have to like it."

Harry didn't care if Ron liked it or not, so long as they caught the guy. But he didn't need any friction interfering with the case. He'd thought about the situation last night, and had decided on the best approach to deal with things. "And even if he agrees, I don't see that there will be a need for you to deal with him directly. He can work with Drummond on the case, and with the lab on specifics. And if approval is required for anything, he can come to me."

Ron's ears went red and Harry could tell he was weighing his authority over the Aurors against having to deal with Malfoy. In the end, reason prevailed. "Fine. Just let me know if the two of you come to an agreement, and I'll pass the information along to Drummond."

Ron left and Harry took a few deep breaths. He hadn't had to wield his authority with Ron often over the years. They'd both worked together for so long, and Ron was all too happy to let Harry deal with all the politics of the job, it didn't pose any problems. Harry respected Ron's opinion and welcomed his input – as he welcomed constructive input from anyone – and in the end, if they couldn't come to the same opinion, they'd agree to disagree. And Harry had the last call.

But this wasn't constructive criticism. It wasn't constructive anything at all. So Harry pushed back. He didn't like it, but he'd be damned if anyone under his command was going to add roadblocks to an already frustrating case.

He looked at the clock. Forty-five minutes before Draco was due to arrive. And too early for a Firewhisky. But, happily, time enough for a cup of tea. He just hoped Ron would stay in his own office.