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sesheta66Title: Second Chance – Chapter Seven
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sesheta_66 || AO3: sesheta_66
Prompts used:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
slythindor100’s early bird prompt A: Frosted Willow (picture under the cut) and dracoharry100’s prompt 12: Christmas Novelty Gifts
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 theslythindor100 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
OR on AO3
Second Chance – Chapter 7
Draco decided to go into the office late, taking a detour to visit Pansy at her shop to deliver the candle.
As expected, she loved it and asked for an initial order of a hundred boxes. "I have a feeling they'll sell out quickly. Is there a chance you can handle that and another delivery before Christmas, if need be?"
"I don't think that should be a problem."
"Fabulous!" She kissed him on the cheek. "Now let's go out for lunch to celebrate. It's on me. We can go to that Spanish place around the corner and have tapas."
Draco agreed and they bundled up for the walk. They passed a park along the way and she pointed to a tree, laden with ice. "Ooh, it looks so pretty!"
He shivered as he pulled up the collar of his coat. "Looks cold." Unseasonably so for early December.
She slapped him playfully on the arm. "It's festive."
"I suppose."
"The more festive the weather, the more business I get."
"Ah, of course. It looks pretty for your pocketbook. Ever the business woman."
She winked. "You know, you could make a fortune doing those candles. Though I do rather like the exclusivity of my little shop having the only supply."
He laughed. "Don't worry. I won't be selling to anyone else, Parkinson."
"Zabini."
"Yeah, yeah. You'll always be Parkinson to me. And this is a one-time thing."
"Surely you can't mean that? You could expand to other Christmas novelty gifts. You could come up with different versions for different holidays. We could make a lot of galleons. I don't know why we haven't done this before."
He laughed again. She was certainly enthusiastic about it. "We haven't done this before because I never let you talk me into it before."
"But you did this time, and look at the result!"
"Moment of weakness. I can assure you that it won't happen again." She pouted. "Besides, I don't need the galleons."
"Must be nice not to have to work."
"True, but I do like to work. Keeps me honest."
"Ugh. What has become of you?"
He grinned. "I have matured, unlike some of our cohort."
"Spoilsport."
As they ate their lunch, he realised that she wasn't wrong on that part. He hadn't done much of anything resembling what his younger self would have considered fun since the war – certainly not anything bordering on illegal. What a difference a war made. They'd all had to grow up pretty fast. And after what they'd gone through, and his narrow escape from a lifetime in prison, he'd thought it prudent to stay on the straight and narrow. Too many Aurors would jump at the chance to throw him in Azkaban for the slightest mishap. No, he valued his freedom too much, thanks.
Astoria had agreed. Being Slytherins, they'd been educated to use any means possible to get ahead, rules and laws be damned. Sure, don't do anything outright – subtlety was key – but don't concern yourself too much with pesky things such as legality. But after the war, the public had been out for blood. Anyone that had been cleared was still looked upon with suspicion, if not outright contempt. Best to just keep their heads down, do nothing to draw attention, donate regularly to charity – particularly ones that garnered public attention – and live your life.
Then they'd had Scorpius, and any lingering temptations had disappeared. He would do nothing that would cast aspersions on his son. He'd been Lucius Malfoy's son, and how had that served him? He'd been a spoiled child, made to believe he was superior to most, by virtue of his birth. But he'd learned soon enough that power was fleeting, and all the money in the world couldn't buy you a decent reputation. No, that had to be earned.
As he walked through the lab towards his office that afternoon, he looked at all that he had built, pleased that he had indeed earned it.
A short time later, a soft tap came at his door and Draco looked up to see Bridgette looking uncharacteristically hesitant. "Um."
Noticing an official looking piece of parchment in her hand, he raised a brow. "Something wrong?"
"Oh, no. Nothing wrong at all." She waved the parchment in the air. "Just a letter from the Ministry, asking for your assistance."
He scowled. "So you write back, as is our standard practice, telling them to stick it up their collective arse, in that very professional manner you have. I don't work for the Ministry."
"Well." She looked down at the letter, then back to Draco, then back down.
"What is it, Bridgette? Have they offered me a million galleons or something?"
"Well, no, but --"
"Well, then, respond as usual, please."
"But this one's from Harry Potter, sir. He's asking for a --" She made a point of adjusting the paper and looking down at it again "-- a personal favour."
Oh, for fuck's sake. "Fine. Give it here, and I'll respond myself."
Looking relieved, she handed him the paper and went back to her desk.
What the hell did Potter want from him? He glanced at the paper. Ministry letterhead, Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Sure enough, the signature line read, "Mr. Harry Potter, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," signed simply, "Harry".
Draco scowled at the letter as though it had personally offended him. Well, there's an understatement. It's been twenty years, give or take. And the last time we spoke …
He went back to the letter, determined not to rehash the past.
Draco stared at the page for a long while, his mind drifting back to the Ministry, the courtroom, all those years ago. His stomach flipped at the memory, so long tucked away.
Potter had been there too. Had testified. Had been the only thing keeping Draco from a lifetime in prison, like his father. Likely the only thing keeping his mother from a prison sentence too. He'd wondered when Potter would call in his card, reach out for something in return.
Years had gone by, and he never had. Draco had thought the matter done after so long. Had thought Potter might actually have meant it when he'd told Narcissa that they were even now, that there was no debt to be paid. But now here he was, asking for Draco's help. Perhaps he'd only meant Narcissa, when he'd said that, and not Draco. After all, Draco had done so many things that had affected Potter and those around him, things Draco had lived to regret.
He supposed it was fair. He read the letter again. Yes, Potter was making it perfectly clear – "I would consider it a personal favour" – that Draco couldn't say no. Bloody hell.
He picked up a quill and scribbled out a note, addressed to the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
As he watched the owl fly off into the distance, he wondered what the hell he was going to say to Potter after all these years. And after all that had happened, just how awkward was that going to be?
Author:
sesheta_66 || AO3: sesheta_66Prompts used:
slythindor100’s early bird prompt A: Frosted Willow (picture under the cut) and dracoharry100’s prompt 12: Christmas Novelty GiftsPairing: 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
OR on AO3
Draco decided to go into the office late, taking a detour to visit Pansy at her shop to deliver the candle.
As expected, she loved it and asked for an initial order of a hundred boxes. "I have a feeling they'll sell out quickly. Is there a chance you can handle that and another delivery before Christmas, if need be?"
"I don't think that should be a problem."
"Fabulous!" She kissed him on the cheek. "Now let's go out for lunch to celebrate. It's on me. We can go to that Spanish place around the corner and have tapas."
Draco agreed and they bundled up for the walk. They passed a park along the way and she pointed to a tree, laden with ice. "Ooh, it looks so pretty!"
He shivered as he pulled up the collar of his coat. "Looks cold." Unseasonably so for early December.
She slapped him playfully on the arm. "It's festive."
"I suppose."
"The more festive the weather, the more business I get."
"Ah, of course. It looks pretty for your pocketbook. Ever the business woman."
She winked. "You know, you could make a fortune doing those candles. Though I do rather like the exclusivity of my little shop having the only supply."
He laughed. "Don't worry. I won't be selling to anyone else, Parkinson."
"Zabini."
"Yeah, yeah. You'll always be Parkinson to me. And this is a one-time thing."
"Surely you can't mean that? You could expand to other Christmas novelty gifts. You could come up with different versions for different holidays. We could make a lot of galleons. I don't know why we haven't done this before."
He laughed again. She was certainly enthusiastic about it. "We haven't done this before because I never let you talk me into it before."
"But you did this time, and look at the result!"
"Moment of weakness. I can assure you that it won't happen again." She pouted. "Besides, I don't need the galleons."
"Must be nice not to have to work."
"True, but I do like to work. Keeps me honest."
"Ugh. What has become of you?"
He grinned. "I have matured, unlike some of our cohort."
"Spoilsport."
As they ate their lunch, he realised that she wasn't wrong on that part. He hadn't done much of anything resembling what his younger self would have considered fun since the war – certainly not anything bordering on illegal. What a difference a war made. They'd all had to grow up pretty fast. And after what they'd gone through, and his narrow escape from a lifetime in prison, he'd thought it prudent to stay on the straight and narrow. Too many Aurors would jump at the chance to throw him in Azkaban for the slightest mishap. No, he valued his freedom too much, thanks.
Astoria had agreed. Being Slytherins, they'd been educated to use any means possible to get ahead, rules and laws be damned. Sure, don't do anything outright – subtlety was key – but don't concern yourself too much with pesky things such as legality. But after the war, the public had been out for blood. Anyone that had been cleared was still looked upon with suspicion, if not outright contempt. Best to just keep their heads down, do nothing to draw attention, donate regularly to charity – particularly ones that garnered public attention – and live your life.
Then they'd had Scorpius, and any lingering temptations had disappeared. He would do nothing that would cast aspersions on his son. He'd been Lucius Malfoy's son, and how had that served him? He'd been a spoiled child, made to believe he was superior to most, by virtue of his birth. But he'd learned soon enough that power was fleeting, and all the money in the world couldn't buy you a decent reputation. No, that had to be earned.
As he walked through the lab towards his office that afternoon, he looked at all that he had built, pleased that he had indeed earned it.
A short time later, a soft tap came at his door and Draco looked up to see Bridgette looking uncharacteristically hesitant. "Um."
Noticing an official looking piece of parchment in her hand, he raised a brow. "Something wrong?"
"Oh, no. Nothing wrong at all." She waved the parchment in the air. "Just a letter from the Ministry, asking for your assistance."
He scowled. "So you write back, as is our standard practice, telling them to stick it up their collective arse, in that very professional manner you have. I don't work for the Ministry."
"Well." She looked down at the letter, then back to Draco, then back down.
"What is it, Bridgette? Have they offered me a million galleons or something?"
"Well, no, but --"
"Well, then, respond as usual, please."
"But this one's from Harry Potter, sir. He's asking for a --" She made a point of adjusting the paper and looking down at it again "-- a personal favour."
Oh, for fuck's sake. "Fine. Give it here, and I'll respond myself."
Looking relieved, she handed him the paper and went back to her desk.
What the hell did Potter want from him? He glanced at the paper. Ministry letterhead, Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Sure enough, the signature line read, "Mr. Harry Potter, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," signed simply, "Harry".
Hello Draco,
It's been a long time.
Draco scowled at the letter as though it had personally offended him. Well, there's an understatement. It's been twenty years, give or take. And the last time we spoke …
He went back to the letter, determined not to rehash the past.
It's been a long time. I trust all is well with you.
I'll get right to the point. I don't know if you've heard in the news, but we are currently investigating a series of drug overdoses affecting young people, some of whom have died. It is crucial to determine who is manufacturing this drug and get them off the streets, along with any remaining product.
Our laboratory has reached an impasse in their analysis and we are in need of expert assistance. We reached out to St Mungo's (they've treated a number of the cases, and have knowledge of the investigation) and they recommended your services.
I don't know how you feel about working for the Ministry, after everything, but I would consider it a personal favour if you would at least think about it. Obviously, this is a matter of urgency, so I would appreciate a response today.
Hoping we can meet to discuss terms. I'll be in the office all morning tomorrow, if you're available.
Harry
Draco stared at the page for a long while, his mind drifting back to the Ministry, the courtroom, all those years ago. His stomach flipped at the memory, so long tucked away.
Potter had been there too. Had testified. Had been the only thing keeping Draco from a lifetime in prison, like his father. Likely the only thing keeping his mother from a prison sentence too. He'd wondered when Potter would call in his card, reach out for something in return.
Years had gone by, and he never had. Draco had thought the matter done after so long. Had thought Potter might actually have meant it when he'd told Narcissa that they were even now, that there was no debt to be paid. But now here he was, asking for Draco's help. Perhaps he'd only meant Narcissa, when he'd said that, and not Draco. After all, Draco had done so many things that had affected Potter and those around him, things Draco had lived to regret.
He supposed it was fair. He read the letter again. Yes, Potter was making it perfectly clear – "I would consider it a personal favour" – that Draco couldn't say no. Bloody hell.
He picked up a quill and scribbled out a note, addressed to the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
Potter,
I'll see you at your office at ten o'clock tomorrow morning.
DL Malfoy
As he watched the owl fly off into the distance, he wondered what the hell he was going to say to Potter after all these years. And after all that had happened, just how awkward was that going to be?
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Date: 2025-12-22 04:01 am (UTC)