![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: Magic is a Wonderful Thing
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sesheta_66
Beta:sassy_cissa
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco, background Ron/Hermione
Summary: While Hermione and Ron travel to Australia to find Hermione’s parents and restore their memories, Harry goes back to Hogwarts to help with the rebuilding efforts. Draco decides to serve his community service by helping restore what his side helped destroy. A friendship begins which, when they both return for their final year, grows into something more.
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warning(s):mpreg
Word Count: 15K
Read on AO3
Magic is a Wonderful Thing
Harry Apparated to Hogsmeade, sure of his course of action, but unsure how things would play out. He made his way to the gates of Hogwarts and spared a few moments to stare at the bedraggled remains of the first real home he’d ever had. Or at least the first one he could remember. A wave of sadness flowed over him. It was the first time he’d been back since just after the battle.
He took a deep breath, willed his determination to push the sadness aside — he and the others would restore the castle to its former glory — and marched up the path.
Headmistress McGonagall greeted him as he approached. "Harry, it’s wonderful to see you."
He hugged his former head of house. "Same. Have any of the others arrived yet?"
"A few, yes. They’re in the Great Hall. But the majority are coming by train, which won’t be arriving for another hour or so." He’d had the option of taking the train as well — McGonagall had commissioned an extra one for those wishing to assist with the restoration — but he’d opted instead to Apparate. It just didn’t feel right to arrive that way when the school wasn’t ... well. "Feel free to make your way over and I’ll be there shortly."
He did so and was surprised to see a shock of blond hair as he entered, though he probably shouldn’t have been. The house tables had been removed and one long table was set up in the centre of the room. Malfoy alone sat at the one end; everyone else sat near the entrance. Heads turned and he was greeted with a stream of Hellos and Hi, Harrys and a whisper or two of It’s him. He cringed at that last and wondered if he’d ever get used to the fame. Malfoy caught his gaze briefly before resuming his former position, staring down at the table. Well, some things had changed.
"Hi," Harry said to the table. None of his close friends, not even anyone he knew from the DA, would be returning to help rebuild. Which left him facing a choice between the friendly, if a little keen, group or Malfoy. He recalled McGonagall’s last letter to him, full of praise for his efforts at the trials and undeniably pleased that he’d been able to set aside his animosity towards Malfoy. Bracing himself for possible backlash, Harry took a seat across from the Slytherin. "Malfoy."
Malfoy, to Harry’s utter astonishment, did not tell him to get the fuck away from him. Instead, he lifted a weary head and cast Harry a curious look. "Potter."
"Lot of work to be done," Harry offered. "I didn’t realise just how bad it was." Malfoy nodded but said nothing and continued to stare at the table. "Should keep us busy for a while."
Malfoy’s leg bounced under the table and he squeezed his hands together. "Why are you talking to me?" he finally asked.
Harry shrugged. "Why wouldn’t I?"
"Did McGonagall put you up to this?"
"No." Harry frowned. Sure, he and Malfoy hadn’t ever got along when they’d been in school, but after the trials ... They hadn’t been chummy, but they had spoken. Sort of. Harry supposed he’d assumed they would both put their past aside and try to be civil. Normal. Whatever. Harry turned to see everyone staring at them and he tried to picture it through Malfoy’s eyes. "Look, I figure the war is over. It’s behind us. We know a lot more about what happened than most. And right now, we’re the only two here from our year. So ..."
Malfoy looked up, somewhat incredulously. "We’re not friends."
Harry couldn’t help but laugh. "I’m aware." Malfoy raised his brows, which Harry took to mean Then what the fuck are you doing? He ignored it. "But that doesn’t mean we can’t be polite. Civil. Normal."
Malfoy stared; Harry let him, meeting his eyes without reservation. At length, Malfoy rolled his eyes and a hint of a smile tugged at his lips. "Whatever."
A few silent minutes later, McGonagall entered, followed by the rest of the staff. "The carriages are on the way and the rest of the helpers should be arriving shortly."
* * *
Harry looked over the note. He wanted to ask more questions about Hermione’s parents, but didn’t want to upset her by pushing too much. He grinned. The Malfoy comment should distract Ron enough that she’ll be busy enough calming him down.
Harry laughed. Mission accomplished. There was a certain sense of pride he took in his ability to rile Ron up, even thousands of miles away. Served him right for taking off and leaving Harry on his own. Yes, they’d invited him along, but seriously? He’d be the third wheel, watching Ron comfort Hermione the whole time. He didn’t begrudge them the time alone, and he knew Hermione had to recover her parents’ memories, but ... well, he already felt like enough of an outsider with them these days. Being in another country — and Merlin, he’d spent enough bloody time travelling with them, thanks — would have meant nothing familiar.
Besides, Hogwarts needed him. And right about now, Harry needed to feel useful. He couldn’t think of a damn thing that would serve that purpose in Australia.
He shook his head of those thoughts and returned to the letter.
Harry put down the note. He was glad they’d found her parents and equally glad he hadn’t gone with them. He’d have nothing to do. And he needed something to do. Something to keep him busy. Something to exhaust him to the point where he could actually sleep for more than an hour before memories and fears swirled together, creeping in and waking him.
* * *
"Potter, what the hell?"
Harry blinked at the mess he’d made. "Sorry."
"Sorry? You very nearly got hit by that tumbling rock and you barely flinched. What’s wrong with you?"
Harry ran his hand through his hair. "Shit. Sorry."
"I’m not the one you almost hit." Malfoy grabbed Harry by the arm and led him to a spot clear of the rubble, then pushed him to sit down on the grass. "Your head’s been somewhere else all morning." He sat down next to Harry and conjured a glass of water for each of them. "What’s going on?"
Harry took the glass and drank half the cold liquid down in one gulp. "Distracted."
"Yeah, I worked that out for myself, funny enough."
Harry took another sip, then put the glass down between them. "I got a letter from Ron and Hermione yesterday."
Malfoy frowned. "Is everything alright?"
Harry shrugged. "I suppose. I mean they’ve found her parents."
"What do you mean, found her parents?"
Harry blinked as he realised Malfoy had no idea what he was talking about. Of course he had no idea. "Long story short, she sent them away during the war. They’re Muggles, as you know, and for their own safety, she ... let’s say encouraged them to pack up and go to Australia. So they did. With no memory of ever having a daughter."
Malfoy’s jaw dropped. "She modified their memories?"
Harry nodded. "So after the war, she and Ron went to Australia hoping to find them, restore their memories, and bring them home."
"So that’s why they’re not here with you?"
Harry shrugged. "That’s why they’re not in England. Can’t be sure they’d be here even if they were home."
"And now they’ve found her parents?" Harry nodded. "Well that’s good news, isn’t it? So what has you so distracted?"
"It’s more what she didn’t say that’s got me thinking. She says they’re doing well, that they’re content. I think she’s wondering if she should just leave them to it."
"That’s ridiculous! Granger is all about the truth, isn’t she?" Harry nodded, though a bit perplexed that Malfoy of all people would know anything about Hermione. "Well, then. She’s probably just wary of their reaction after she explains what she did."
"How so?"
"They’re her parents, Potter. They are supposed to protect her, not the other way around. They’ll probably be pissed at her for taking away their ability to look after her. And I imagine she’s run through an assortment of possible reactions."
"You don’t think she’d leave them like that, do you?"
"Of course not! Granger’s brilliant. She’ll figure out that what’s best is the truth. Besides, no matter how pissed off they might be with her, they’ll come around. She just needs a bit of time to figure it out."
"You think so?"
Malfoy stood up, brushed his hand off and held it out to Harry. Harry took it and Malfoy pulled him to his feet. A swipe of his wand and Malfoy vanished their glasses and looked at Harry. "She’ll do the right thing and they’ll be back when the time is right."
Harry smiled, relief washing over him. "Thanks."
Malfoy let out a long-suffering sigh. "Anything to get you not to kill yourself in the line of duty, Potter. I doubt the Ministry or the Wizengamot would be particularly charitable towards me if the great and humble Saviour of Us All got injured, or Merlin forbid, died on my watch."
* * *
Two months passed surprisingly quickly and the school looked much like it had before the war. The faces around him reflected the same sense of accomplishment Harry felt, Malfoy’s most of all.
"It looks great." Malfoy’s smile lit his eyes and Harry was surprised to see a hint of blue reflected in the grey. He’d always thought his eyes were like his father’s — cold, steely, hard — but now Harry saw the life contained within, could see they were animated, full of hope. "What?" Malfoy interrupted his thoughts.
"Sorry?"
"You’re staring. Do I have something on my face?"
Yeah. A smile I’ve never seen before. He shook off that thought. "No, you just —"
Harry was saved answering by McGonagall’s amplified voice. "Congratulations to everyone and thank you." Her smile, too, lit her eyes. "With your help, we’ve managed not only to complete the work, but ahead of schedule. All that’s left now is to have the Ministry attend to inspect and reinforce the structure and wards. Minister Shacklebolt has assured me that he will make available the necessary resources to have that completed in short order. We shall reopen on the first of September."
The crowd cheered.
"I do hope to see each and every one of you back here for our celebratory feast in two weeks’ time, whether you are returning to class or not. I would personally like to thank you for your hard work. And to those of you returning in the fall, it will be the first of many meals in our restored Great Hall."
"Are you coming back?" Malfoy asked.
Harry nodded. "Definitely. You?"
Malfoy shrugged. "Haven’t decided yet." He looked up at the castle and wrapped his arms around his middle. "I may take my NEWTs privately."
"Oh." Harry felt unaccountably disappointed at the thought of his final year without Malfoy. "That’ll be weird."
Malfoy gave him a curious look. "How so?"
"Dunno." Harry shrugged. "I guess it’s hard to imagine coming here and not having you around to get on my nerves."
Malfoy elbowed him. "I’m sure the weasel can do a fine job of that."
Harry laughed. "No doubt, but he doesn’t have your way with buttons or song writing." Potter Stinks flashed before his eyes and Weasley is our King echoed in his head.
"This is true. My talents are many and varied, and you’ve only seen the surface of what I’m capable of."
Harry snorted. "Indeed. But even if he had your extensive talents —" Malfoy nodded at this. "—Ron’s not coming back."
"He’s not? What about Granger? Surely she wouldn’t miss a chance to top the class for another year."
"Nope. Ron — actually, all the Weasleys — are still mourning Fred. I don’t think any of them want to come back here if they don’t have to." Malfoy stared up at the castle, arms wrapping around himself again. "Gin’s fine with her OWLs and plans on pursuing Quidditch, so she won’t need schooling so much as more time on a broom. And Ron’s going to work at Weasleys Wizard Wheezes. Hermione plans on staying home with her parents and studying for her NEWTs on her own, before deciding what specialty she wants to go into."
"Wait a minute." Malfoy tore his gaze from the castle to Harry and frowned. "Didn’t I hear something about you being offered a place in Auror training?"
"Yeah." The articles in the Prophet had varied — either strongly supportive of the Saviour being extended the training slot to speed up replacement of Aurors, or strongly against the clear favouritism from the Minister who’d been in the Order of the Phoenix with Harry. They’d rehashed all the old articles about Harry’s questionable mental state as well.
"So why not take it? Be done with this place?"
Harry ran a hand through his hair and looked up at Gryffindor Tower. "I like this place. It’s the first home I ever had, really." Malfoy didn’t respond. "Besides, I think I’d like to take a break from fighting the bad guys, y’know? Maybe have a normal year at school before going out and facing the world."
Malfoy narrowed his eyes and Harry felt like he was trying to work out if Harry was being serious. "You haven’t ever had a normal year here, have you?"
"I suppose not," Harry agreed. "But I did have normal moments. I think I’d like a few more of those before moving on."
"I guess you’ve got a point." Malfoy hesitated for a few moments, then wiped his hands on his robes. He held one out. "Well, I guess I’ll see you in a couple of weeks then, Potter."
Harry stared at the proffered hand for a moment before smiling and taking it in his own and shaking it. "See you in a couple of weeks, Malfoy."
* * *
"But I thought you were going into the Auror program," Ron said, completely baffled at Harry’s decision to return to school.
"Well, I think it’s a great idea," Hermione said. "After all, we didn’t exactly complete our education before the war."
"But you’re not going back!"
"I may yet. Who knows how I’ll do on my NEWTs."
Harry caught Ron’s eye as he rolled them. Harry coughed. "You’ll do brilliantly as always. You had McGonagall tutoring you by owl all this time, and no doubt you have reams of notes to study from."
"Well ... yes, but ... I don’t know. Maybe I should go back."
"I’d be happy to have you."
"And maybe you should too, Ron."
Ron’s hands shot up into the air. "Oh, don’t involve me, Hermione. I have a job, thanks very much. If I never see another text book or write another essay, it’ll be too soon for me."
Hermione scowled but didn’t argue. "Will it be strange for you, going back on your own?"
Harry sipped his tea and considered her question. "In a way, yes. I mean I’ll probably suck at all my classes without you there to help me." Hermione’s cheeks pinked at his words. "But I also won’t have all the distractions I had, what with Voldemort in my head — literally — and a war looming."
"Too true," Ron said. "I wonder if McGonagall will make you Head Boy."
Harry snorted. "Not bloody likely. Could you imagine?"
Ron chuckled. "Yeah, not really. But still, she’s bound to give you some position of authority."
Harry shrugged. "I don’t think I’d want it."
"Oh, but Harry! It would be wonderful —"
Ron stopped her before she went on a tangent. "Leave him be, Hermione. I think Harry maybe wants a normal year for a change."
"Exactly."
Hermione looked hesitantly at Ron before returning her gaze to Harry. "Is Malfoy returning?" Ron groaned.
"I’m not sure." Harry hoped so, but didn’t think Ron would appreciate hearing that. "He hadn’t decided when I last spoke to him."
"Oy! What are you, pen pals or something now?"
Harry laughed. "No, we’re not pen pals. I meant on the last day working at the school. But I’ll see him next week at the Hogwarts feast and I can ask him then."
Ron looked wary, but Hermione smiled.
* * *
"Well, Potter, I’ve decided to take pity on you."
Harry chuckled. "Well, that’s a first. How do you propose doing that?"
"I’ve decided to grace you with my presence in the fall."
"So you’re coming back then?" Malfoy nodded. Harry grinned. "That’s great!"
Malfoy’s wary expression morphed into a smile and his eyes had that blue sparkle in them again.
* * *
Harry stared out at the grounds from the owlery, watching the school owl — he hadn’t the heart to replace Hedwig as yet — fly off to London with his letter. He breathed in deeply and smiled. It was good to be back. Even with all the changes, some of which he knew wouldn’t sink in completely for a while, it still felt like home. More, in fact, than Grimmauld Place. And without Sirius haunting every corner.
He wondered if he’d ever truly feel at home there. Maybe after he redecorated, made it his own. He’d meant to do that after the war, but all the funerals and trials had taken up his time, and then work at the school. And now he was back.
"What are you doing up here?" Malfoy’s voice echoed off the owlery walls.
"Just sent Ron a note, letting him know that we’re roommates."
Malfoy grinned. "Tell me you cast a spell to record his reaction. I want to see that!"
Harry chuckled. "Sorry. Don’t know that spell."
Malfoy scooped up his eagle owl, attached a note and sent it on its way. "So much to learn. How exactly was it that you managed to off the Dark Lord?"
Harry punched him in the arm. "I had Hermione on my side. Plus the entire Order of the Phoenix. All I had to do was show up."
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Sure, Potter. That’s how everyone remembers it."
Harry shrugged. "It’s true. I just had to show up, die, have your mom lie for me and get Voldemort alone on the other end of the Elder Wand. Piece of cake."
"The Elder Wand?" Harry had let it slip without realising what he was saying. Malfoy stared until Harry looked away. He still wasn’t very good at Occlumency.
"Long story," he hedged. "I’ll tell you another time. Why don’t we go eat now?"
Malfoy narrowed his eyes, but eventually relented. "Another time, then. We do have all year, after all, don’t we?"
Harry nodded and led the way down the stairs. "So, who was that letter for?"
"Whom. And it was to my parents."
Harry stopped and Malfoy bumped into him. He turned round. "Tell me you put that spell on your letter. And please tell me that you told Lucius that we’re rooming together. And tell me that I can see that reaction."
Malfoy smirked. "Maybe."
* * *
Harry surveyed the room. All in all, he’d done a reasonable job of unpacking and setting up his half. It was nowhere near as neat and organised as Malfoy’s side, but it was a darn sight neater than he was used to. He only hoped he’d be able to keep it that way.
A tapping came at the window and Harry let in a harried looking Pig who hooted and flew around the room a half dozen times before falling onto Harry’s bed.
Harry laughed. "No recording, but you’re welcome to read Ron’s reaction." He handed Ron’s letter to Malfoy.
He glared as he handed the paper back to Harry. "I bet McGonagall would give you your own room if you asked her."
"Why would I do that?"
"So you wouldn’t have to—" He snatched back the letter and waved it at Harry. "—sleep with one eye open."
Harry snatched it back. "Oh, for fuck’s sake. I don’t think you’re going to try to kill me — or do anything else to me in my sleep. And Ron doesn’t either. He’s just joking." He waved the paper in front of Malfoy. "You did read the comment about me being put in jail for killing you too, right?" Malfoy scowled. "Well, do you think I am going to kill you in your sleep?"
"Of course not!"
"Exactly." Harry put the letter away. "Now that we’ve cleared that up and we trust that neither of us is planning to kill the other anywhere except perhaps — figuratively, of course — on the Quidditch pitch, do you want first dibs on the bathroom?"
Malfoy hesitated before nodding warily and collecting his things. Harry sighed. "Relax, Malfoy. I’m not one for practical jokes or anything that might not be considered much of a joke. If I’m going to do anything to you, it’ll be out in the open. Our room should be a space where we can both come to escape whatever else is going on. I won’t touch your stuff or tamper with your stuff or set a trap for you or anything else. You have my word." Malfoy’s shoulders relaxed. "And if you tell me you will do the same, then I’ll take you at your word."
"You trust me?"
Harry nodded. "Until you give me a reason not to."
Malfoy snorted. "Pretty sure I’ve given you plenty of those over the years."
"Same goes for me. But this is a new year. A new time. And we’re not on opposite sides — or in opposing houses — any more."
"I’m still a Slytherin, no matter what McGonagall’s new setup for the eighth years is."
"And I’m still a Gryffindor. But we’re adults now. Adults who’ve gone through a lot of shit and deserve to have some peace and — dare I say it — a place to relax without having to watch our backs every minute of every day. Agreed?"
Malfoy smiled. "Agreed."
While Malfoy was in the shower, Harry replied to Ron.
He tossed the note aside, wanting to give Pig a bit longer to recover from his journey, and pulled out his schedule. He’d managed to gather his books and was reading the first chapter of the seventh year Charms book when Malfoy emerged, hair dripping — a darker shade than his usual white blond — and wrapped in a forest green robe.
"Bathroom’s all yours."
Twenty minutes later, Harry returned to the bedroom feeling refreshed. Malfoy gave him a strange look and Harry looked down at his pyjama pants and bare chest. His frame wasn’t nearly as scrawny as it had been — he’d been eating properly and exercising regularly as part of his post-war routine — but he remained self-conscious after years of malnutrition. In as light a tone as he could manage, he said, "We can’t all own fancy robes."
Malfoy blinked and looked up at Harry. "No, of course not." His face had reddened slightly. "It’s just ... you’re still wet."
"Oh, yeah. I like a really hot shower so it helps me to cool down if I don’t dry off entirely. But I’m not dripping, so no wet floor." He walked to his bed and climbed in. As an afterthought he picked up his wand and conjured a glass of water.
"You didn’t take your wand with you?" Malfoy asked.
"In the shower?" Harry said. "Why would I do that?"
"But you left it here." With me was left unsaid and Harry understood.
"I trust you, Malfoy. Not in a duel or on the Quidditch pitch or in class — you are still a Slytherin, after all — but here, in our room, I meant what I said. I trust you."
* * *
Harry was just starting to drift off when a strange, distant banging pulled him back to consciousness. He stared up at the unfamiliar ceiling and as he properly woke, remembered where he was. He turned his head to the side to see a fuming Malfoy glaring down at him, mumbling something Harry couldn’t hear. He sat up and waved his hand, mumbling Finite under his breath.
"... all just a load of crap! If you had a problem with me, you could have just said —"
"Whoa, whoa, Malfoy. What the hell?"
He shook and he looked furious. "You trust me, my arse!"
"What are you going on about?"
"I tried to say something to you, but you didn’t answer me. At first I thought you couldn’t hear me, so I came over only to discover this ... this ... ward around your bed. So much for trusting me. You could have just said, instead of making me believe —" Harry pulled his glasses of the side table and put them on. When he looked at Malfoy, it wasn’t just anger he saw, but hurt.
"Hold on a minute. Let me explain."
"No need to explain. I’ll talk to McGonagall in the morning, and you can have your own space."
As Malfoy tried to walk away, Harry grabbed his wrist. "I meant what I said earlier."
He pulled his arm free. "Then why the ward?"
"It’s not a ward; it’s a sound barrier. You could have dropped it with a simple Finite like I did." Malfoy looked doubtful. Harry ran his hands through his hair. "Look, I get nightmares, okay. A lot of nightmares. Not every night, but enough that I didn’t want to disturb you."
"Oh."
"Yeah. I also don’t really like talking about it, so ... if you didn’t know, you wouldn’t ask."
Malfoy’s entire body relaxed and he looked at Harry. "I get them too. Quite a lot, actually."
Harry nodded. "I bet you do." He could only imagine, from the few glimpses he’d had into Voldemort’s head, what might haunt Malfoy’s dreams. "So ... we’re good?"
"We’re good. Sorry I thought —"
"We’ve got a lot of history, and until recently it wasn’t particularly good. Add to that having a madman living in your house for nearly a year, and I suspect trust doesn’t come easily to you. But maybe it will ... in time."
"I don’t understand you. How can you —?"
Harry sat up and let out a sigh. He hadn’t planned to rehash the past, but ... "I saw you, on the Tower, the night Dumbledore died. I wasn’t lying when I testified for you. You’re not a killer. I know that what you did you did for your parents. I’ve thought about it a lot, actually. Obsessed about it, to hear Ron tell the story. Anyway, I have some idea what your father was like. And I knew Voldemort, more than I’d care to admit. You grew up around that and I don’t think you’re a bad person. You were in an untenable situation and you did what you thought you had to. Frankly, I don’t know that I’d do it differently myself."
Malfoy scoffed. "Yeah, right."
"I can’t say for sure I would have done things differently. We’ll never know, because I’ve never had to make that choice."
"You would have done the right thing."
"You sound so convinced." Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "I don’t think I am. But whatever happened, whatever the reasons, whatever horrible choices we all had to make, we made it through to the other side. And you’re not a killer. You didn’t take joy in the torturing of others. I think, deep down, you’re a good person who made bad choices. And, let’s be honest, you’ve paid for those choices."
Malfoy stared for a long moment before saying, "You really believe that?"
"I do." Harry had long ago accepted the truth of that. "So what did you want?"
"What did I ... what?"
"You said you were trying to talk to me, but the barrier prevented me hearing you."
"Oh. Right. Um ... it was nothing. Just asking about what classes you’re taking."
Harry laughed. "Same as sixth year: Charms, Potions, Transfiguration, Defence and Herbology. You?"
"Same, minus Herbology, plus Ancient Runes and Arithmancy."
"So, Charms first thing tomorrow?"
"Right." He fidgeted as he looked down awkwardly at Harry. "Sorry to have woken you."
Harry removed his glasses and put them back on the table. "No worries. And remember, a simple Finite to drop the barrier."
* * *
Harry folded up his note. "You done with yours yet? I can take it to the owlery with mine."
Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "As if I’d give you a note I’m sending."
"What? I wouldn’t read it!"
"Sure, you wouldn’t." At Harry’s affronted look, he said, "I’d read yours, no question, and you bloody well know it." He raised a hand as Harry was about to argue. "I wouldn’t do anything to purposely harm you or your things, or sabotage you — Quidditch aside, naturally — but I draw the line at quashing my own innate desire to know all things. And I don’t believe for a moment you’d be any different." He signed his name with a flourish, folded and sealed his parchment with wax, then got up. "Let’s go send these things off and get some decent cakes from the kitchens."
Harry laughed. "Alright, alright." Malfoy was probably right. Harry might not want to read his letters, but curiosity might win out. Oh, who was he kidding? Of course it would. "But I admit to nothing."
"Whatever, Potter." He led the way to the kitchens. Just before tickling the pear, he asked, "Do you think Hagrid will ever get the hint and stop making food for us?"
Harry grinned. "Not likely. But he knows how the house elves love to cater to us, so at least he won’t be insulted."
* * *
Pig arrived, excited and exhausted as ever, a few days later.
Harry tossed the note onto his table. "You busy for dinner Saturday?"
Malfoy shook his head. "No, why?"
"Hogsmeade. Ron’ll be in town and wants to meet for dinner and a pint."
He scowled. "And you’re inviting me? I doubt Weasley would want —"
"He’s bringing George, so it’s no problem. It’ll be fun. Besides ... we’re adults, remember?"
"We might be adults, but Weasley ..."
Harry laughed. "Fair point. But still. We can spend the afternoon there, pick up a few supplies, look around. You said something about a new book you wanted. You could even drag me into Flourish and Blotts. Come on. We haven’t taken advantage of the extra freedom we have this year. We haven’t even left the castle in weeks."
"Okay, okay. We’ll do Hogsmeade. But I don’t know about dinner with the Weasleys."
"Well, we can go, have a pint, and if it’s too uncomfortable you can head back here to eat and I’ll see you later."
* * *
As they approached the Three Broomsticks, Malfoy stopped and stared up at the sign. Then Harry realised where they were and what this must mean for him. "Shit, Malfoy, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think ... I forgot ... You don’t have to come in if you don’t want to."
Malfoy took a deep breath, then looked from the sign to Harry. "No, it’s fine. Adults, right? I can do this."
"Are you sure?"
He nodded. "Yes."
Ron and George hadn’t arrived, so they grabbed a booth near the back. Harry sat, but Malfoy remained standing. "I’ll be right back. I’ve got something to do first."
Harry nodded then watched Malfoy approach the bar. He spoke briefly to Rosmerta before returning to the table, two pints in hand. Harry raised a brow in question.
"I wrote to her after the war, apologising, and she accepted my explanation. But I didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable, so I asked her if it was okay that I stay for dinner."
"And what did she say?"
"That she’d already forgiven me months ago, and I’m welcome here any time."
Harry smiled. "Good."
"Well, she’s okay with me being here, but will the Weasleys be?"
Harry took a long sip of his beer and saw Ron and George enter. "I guess we’re about to find out."
While waiting for their food, Malfoy excused himself to the washroom and George went up to the bar to get the next round.
"So ... Malfoy?"
Harry sipped the last of his beer. "What about him?"
"You two seem tight."
Harry shrugged. "I guess so."
"So you’re friends now?"
"Yeah," Harry chuckled. "I guess we are. Who’d have thought?"
"Yeah." Ron looked troubled. "I wasn’t expecting him to be here today."
Annoyance bubbled beneath the surface as he recalled Malfoy’s trepidation about coming here today. "Well, I didn’t think it was a closed session, what with George coming along. We spent the afternoon here and I thought it might be nice to invite him along. That’s not a problem, is it? I mean, you didn’t say not to invite him."
"I know. It’s just that ... well, you seem to do everything together now. And I was thinking ... well, really, Hermione was thinking ..."
Ron was saved from saying just what he and Hermione had been thinking when George returned, drinks in hand. "Drink up, boys! Next round’s on you, little brother."
Most of the dinner was spent listening to George talk about the shop and some of his latest gadgets. Business was doing well — fun, games and laughter were always good things — and Ron had settled into the role nicely, acting as the primary contact for the Ministry in addition to his other duties. The four of them spent a great deal of time laughing at some of the more outrageous stories — mainly surrounding product testing — that George and Ron relayed, and Harry was relieved that the evening had gone so well.
"Right. My turn!" Harry got up and went to the bar. "Another round," he told Rosmerta.
"You boys seem to be having a good time," she said.
Harry grinned. "Yeah, Malfoy was nervous about coming here, but ... well, it seems to have worked out okay."
"He’s not so bad, your young Mr Malfoy. Not at all like his father."
Harry grabbed the pints and nodded. "Thank Merlin for that!"
He returned to the table and passed the drinks to everyone. "Next one’s on you, Malfoy."
"Not for us, mate," George said. "We’ve got brunch at mum’s tomorrow. This is our last, but you two carry on." He lifted his glass in a toast. "You know, you’re not as big a prick as we took you for, Malfoy. Cheers to that."
Harry braced for a reaction. To his relief, Malfoy laughed. "I’ll take that as a compliment, thanks." He raised his own glass. "And here’s to surviving an entire evening with a pack of Gryffindors and living to tell the tale."
They all laughed and clinked glasses. And by the time Ron and George left, they’d planned for another Hogsmeade evening the following month.
Malfoy returned to the table from the bar and placed a pint and two shots in front of each of them. He sat down and lifted one of his shots. "To surviving relatively unscathed." He tossed it back.
Harry lifted his own. "Relatively?" He tossed his back too.
Malfoy lifted his second shot. "He’ll only kill me if I hurt you, so here’s to that." He tossed his second back and chased it with a sip of beer.
"He what?!"
Malfoy waved away the question. "I’m sure my friends would say the same to you if they were here. Or they’d want to anyway and if they had enough to drink they might muster up the courage. Saviour and all that rot. Anyway, never mind that. Whatever happened between you and their little sister? You’ve never said."
Harry fought back the urge to return to the subject of Ron’s threat. "You never asked."
"Well? The papers speculated a lot about it but I don’t recall either of you being quoted on what actually happened."
"Careful, Malfoy, or I’ll think you read all the articles on me."
He snorted. "Hard to miss the headlines, even if one doesn’t read the articles. Now stop stalling."
Harry shrugged. "Nothing much to say." He waved his hand to cast a Muffliato. "Nothing nearly as salacious as the papers speculated. We split up before the war, the war happened, we drifted apart."
"But she’s with Longbottom now."
Harry sipped his beer. "That she is. I think they’re a better fit."
"Do you?" He stared at Harry before adding, "And you weren’t jealous?"
Harry frowned. "No." He eyed his second shot, pondering how much to say. He opted for diversion instead. "So what happened between you and Parkinson? I’d have thought you’d be married by now."
The look he shot Harry said that he knew exactly what Harry was doing. He answered anyway. "We would have been, or at least well along the way planning it, if our parents were the ones deciding." He sipped his beer slowly, biding his time, Harry guessed. "But fortunately, they were not and we will never be married."
"I bet she took that hard."
"Not really."
"Oh, come on. She spent half her time at Hogwarts draped over you. There’s no way she was the one to make that decision."
Malfoy shuddered. "Yes, well ... I did have to explain things to her eventually, back near the end of fifth year. She didn’t take it well, but eventually she came around."
Harry coughed. "Oh, sure. I saw the way she glared at anyone looking just that little too long at you. I bet she was oh so willing to let some other witch get her hands on you."
"That wasn’t exactly her concern."
"Excuse me?"
He reached across the table and snatched Harry’s second shot. After drinking it, he said, "It wasn’t witches she had to worry about. Not really my type."
Harry took a moment for the words to sink in. He didn’t mean ...? Surely not ... "Oh," he said lamely. "I didn’t know." He reached for his beer. "I mean ..." He gulped some back. "Oh," he said again.
Malfoy’s hands clenched his pint. "Is that a problem?"
"No!" Harry said quickly. "Of course not. Not at all." Harry took a long pull of his beer and tried to calm his bouncing thoughts. Not a problem in the way you think, anyway.
"You’re sure?" Malfoy didn’t sound convinced.
"Yes, I’m sure. Positive." He stood up. Malfoy looked alarmed. "I’ll be right back." He went to the bar and ordered four more shots and a couple of pints for good measure. He returned to the table and placed half in front of Malfoy before sitting down and tossing back his first shot. Restoring the Muffliato, he looked Malfoy in the eye. "I meant what I said about Gin and Neville: I think they’re a better fit. But I left out the part about me." He sipped his beer. This shouldn’t be so hard, but it was. Malfoy had just told him ... but he’d had time — years — to get used to the idea. Harry hadn’t even realised ... not until recently ... and he’d told no one. He took another sip. "I ..."
He looked at Malfoy, took a deep breath and channelled his inner Gryffindor. "I wasn’t attracted to her anymore. I tried to be, but ... I realised she’s more like a sister to me. That attraction that had been there just ... wasn’t anymore. And when I went out — free from all the shit I’d had bouncing around in my head for so long — I figured out that, well ... I’m attracted to guys." There. He’d said it. "Girls too," he added, "but more guys."
He stared at the table, waiting for Malfoy to say something. Anything. When he didn’t, Harry looked up. "Well?"
Malfoy frowned. "You’ve never told anyone that before, have you?"
"No."
"Thank you."
"I ... what?"
"Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me."
"Oh. Well then. You’re welcome, I guess."
"Are you alright?"
Heart racing in his chest, blood pooling in his face, he wasn’t sure how to answer that. But looking at Malfoy, he realised he wasn’t alone. "Not really. But I will be."
Continued in part 2
Author:
sesheta_66Beta:
sassy_cissaPairing(s): Harry/Draco, background Ron/Hermione
Summary: While Hermione and Ron travel to Australia to find Hermione’s parents and restore their memories, Harry goes back to Hogwarts to help with the rebuilding efforts. Draco decides to serve his community service by helping restore what his side helped destroy. A friendship begins which, when they both return for their final year, grows into something more.
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warning(s):
Word Count: 15K
Read on AO3
Harry Apparated to Hogsmeade, sure of his course of action, but unsure how things would play out. He made his way to the gates of Hogwarts and spared a few moments to stare at the bedraggled remains of the first real home he’d ever had. Or at least the first one he could remember. A wave of sadness flowed over him. It was the first time he’d been back since just after the battle.
He took a deep breath, willed his determination to push the sadness aside — he and the others would restore the castle to its former glory — and marched up the path.
Headmistress McGonagall greeted him as he approached. "Harry, it’s wonderful to see you."
He hugged his former head of house. "Same. Have any of the others arrived yet?"
"A few, yes. They’re in the Great Hall. But the majority are coming by train, which won’t be arriving for another hour or so." He’d had the option of taking the train as well — McGonagall had commissioned an extra one for those wishing to assist with the restoration — but he’d opted instead to Apparate. It just didn’t feel right to arrive that way when the school wasn’t ... well. "Feel free to make your way over and I’ll be there shortly."
He did so and was surprised to see a shock of blond hair as he entered, though he probably shouldn’t have been. The house tables had been removed and one long table was set up in the centre of the room. Malfoy alone sat at the one end; everyone else sat near the entrance. Heads turned and he was greeted with a stream of Hellos and Hi, Harrys and a whisper or two of It’s him. He cringed at that last and wondered if he’d ever get used to the fame. Malfoy caught his gaze briefly before resuming his former position, staring down at the table. Well, some things had changed.
"Hi," Harry said to the table. None of his close friends, not even anyone he knew from the DA, would be returning to help rebuild. Which left him facing a choice between the friendly, if a little keen, group or Malfoy. He recalled McGonagall’s last letter to him, full of praise for his efforts at the trials and undeniably pleased that he’d been able to set aside his animosity towards Malfoy. Bracing himself for possible backlash, Harry took a seat across from the Slytherin. "Malfoy."
Malfoy, to Harry’s utter astonishment, did not tell him to get the fuck away from him. Instead, he lifted a weary head and cast Harry a curious look. "Potter."
"Lot of work to be done," Harry offered. "I didn’t realise just how bad it was." Malfoy nodded but said nothing and continued to stare at the table. "Should keep us busy for a while."
Malfoy’s leg bounced under the table and he squeezed his hands together. "Why are you talking to me?" he finally asked.
Harry shrugged. "Why wouldn’t I?"
"Did McGonagall put you up to this?"
"No." Harry frowned. Sure, he and Malfoy hadn’t ever got along when they’d been in school, but after the trials ... They hadn’t been chummy, but they had spoken. Sort of. Harry supposed he’d assumed they would both put their past aside and try to be civil. Normal. Whatever. Harry turned to see everyone staring at them and he tried to picture it through Malfoy’s eyes. "Look, I figure the war is over. It’s behind us. We know a lot more about what happened than most. And right now, we’re the only two here from our year. So ..."
Malfoy looked up, somewhat incredulously. "We’re not friends."
Harry couldn’t help but laugh. "I’m aware." Malfoy raised his brows, which Harry took to mean Then what the fuck are you doing? He ignored it. "But that doesn’t mean we can’t be polite. Civil. Normal."
Malfoy stared; Harry let him, meeting his eyes without reservation. At length, Malfoy rolled his eyes and a hint of a smile tugged at his lips. "Whatever."
A few silent minutes later, McGonagall entered, followed by the rest of the staff. "The carriages are on the way and the rest of the helpers should be arriving shortly."
Ron and Hermione,
Well, it’s been a week. I came back to Hogwarts to find Malfoy, of all people, here. He’s decided that helping rebuild the school would be how he’d serve his community service. I suppose it shouldn’t have surprised me, but there you are. It’s a bit weird, but we’re actually getting along. I mean, he’s still a snarky git, but yeah. Not so bad. Repairs are slow but we’ll get there.
Anyway, have you managed to find your parents yet, Hermione? Keep me posted.
Harry.
Harry looked over the note. He wanted to ask more questions about Hermione’s parents, but didn’t want to upset her by pushing too much. He grinned. The Malfoy comment should distract Ron enough that she’ll be busy enough calming him down.
Seriously, Harry? We’re on another continent and Malfoy’s the first thing you put in your letter? Whatever. He’s still the same, smarmy git he’s always been, but he knows that he has to stay in line. You’ll see. As soon as he’s done his community service and he’s fully free, he’ll be as big an arse to you as ever. Mark my words.
You should have come with us, mate. Australia’s great. It’s winter here, which is weird, and they all talk funny, but it’s good. We found Hermione’s parents. I’ll let her update you on that.
Ron.
Harry laughed. Mission accomplished. There was a certain sense of pride he took in his ability to rile Ron up, even thousands of miles away. Served him right for taking off and leaving Harry on his own. Yes, they’d invited him along, but seriously? He’d be the third wheel, watching Ron comfort Hermione the whole time. He didn’t begrudge them the time alone, and he knew Hermione had to recover her parents’ memories, but ... well, he already felt like enough of an outsider with them these days. Being in another country — and Merlin, he’d spent enough bloody time travelling with them, thanks — would have meant nothing familiar.
Besides, Hogwarts needed him. And right about now, Harry needed to feel useful. He couldn’t think of a damn thing that would serve that purpose in Australia.
He shook his head of those thoughts and returned to the letter.
Hi, Harry!
Unlike Ron, I’m glad to hear you and Malfoy are getting along. I know you didn’t like to hear it at the time, but interhouse unity is a good thing. Does the school look awful? I don’t think I could go back there again, at least not until it’s fixed. Maybe not even then. Make sure you all do a great job.
As Ron said, we’ve found my parents, but we haven’t approached them yet. They’ve opened an office in a small town just outside Melbourne. It’s not as busy as their place had been back home — they’d built that one over years — but it seems to be doing well and they fit in. Ron’s right; it’s beautiful here. Anyway, they seem fine. Content. And I don’t want to do anything too rash. I’d like to watch them for a while before we speak to them. I’m trying to work out what to do and how to do it first. But the main thing is they’re safe and ... happy.
Keep us posted on the progress.
Love, Hermione
Harry put down the note. He was glad they’d found her parents and equally glad he hadn’t gone with them. He’d have nothing to do. And he needed something to do. Something to keep him busy. Something to exhaust him to the point where he could actually sleep for more than an hour before memories and fears swirled together, creeping in and waking him.
"Potter, what the hell?"
Harry blinked at the mess he’d made. "Sorry."
"Sorry? You very nearly got hit by that tumbling rock and you barely flinched. What’s wrong with you?"
Harry ran his hand through his hair. "Shit. Sorry."
"I’m not the one you almost hit." Malfoy grabbed Harry by the arm and led him to a spot clear of the rubble, then pushed him to sit down on the grass. "Your head’s been somewhere else all morning." He sat down next to Harry and conjured a glass of water for each of them. "What’s going on?"
Harry took the glass and drank half the cold liquid down in one gulp. "Distracted."
"Yeah, I worked that out for myself, funny enough."
Harry took another sip, then put the glass down between them. "I got a letter from Ron and Hermione yesterday."
Malfoy frowned. "Is everything alright?"
Harry shrugged. "I suppose. I mean they’ve found her parents."
"What do you mean, found her parents?"
Harry blinked as he realised Malfoy had no idea what he was talking about. Of course he had no idea. "Long story short, she sent them away during the war. They’re Muggles, as you know, and for their own safety, she ... let’s say encouraged them to pack up and go to Australia. So they did. With no memory of ever having a daughter."
Malfoy’s jaw dropped. "She modified their memories?"
Harry nodded. "So after the war, she and Ron went to Australia hoping to find them, restore their memories, and bring them home."
"So that’s why they’re not here with you?"
Harry shrugged. "That’s why they’re not in England. Can’t be sure they’d be here even if they were home."
"And now they’ve found her parents?" Harry nodded. "Well that’s good news, isn’t it? So what has you so distracted?"
"It’s more what she didn’t say that’s got me thinking. She says they’re doing well, that they’re content. I think she’s wondering if she should just leave them to it."
"That’s ridiculous! Granger is all about the truth, isn’t she?" Harry nodded, though a bit perplexed that Malfoy of all people would know anything about Hermione. "Well, then. She’s probably just wary of their reaction after she explains what she did."
"How so?"
"They’re her parents, Potter. They are supposed to protect her, not the other way around. They’ll probably be pissed at her for taking away their ability to look after her. And I imagine she’s run through an assortment of possible reactions."
"You don’t think she’d leave them like that, do you?"
"Of course not! Granger’s brilliant. She’ll figure out that what’s best is the truth. Besides, no matter how pissed off they might be with her, they’ll come around. She just needs a bit of time to figure it out."
"You think so?"
Malfoy stood up, brushed his hand off and held it out to Harry. Harry took it and Malfoy pulled him to his feet. A swipe of his wand and Malfoy vanished their glasses and looked at Harry. "She’ll do the right thing and they’ll be back when the time is right."
Harry smiled, relief washing over him. "Thanks."
Malfoy let out a long-suffering sigh. "Anything to get you not to kill yourself in the line of duty, Potter. I doubt the Ministry or the Wizengamot would be particularly charitable towards me if the great and humble Saviour of Us All got injured, or Merlin forbid, died on my watch."
Two months passed surprisingly quickly and the school looked much like it had before the war. The faces around him reflected the same sense of accomplishment Harry felt, Malfoy’s most of all.
"It looks great." Malfoy’s smile lit his eyes and Harry was surprised to see a hint of blue reflected in the grey. He’d always thought his eyes were like his father’s — cold, steely, hard — but now Harry saw the life contained within, could see they were animated, full of hope. "What?" Malfoy interrupted his thoughts.
"Sorry?"
"You’re staring. Do I have something on my face?"
Yeah. A smile I’ve never seen before. He shook off that thought. "No, you just —"
Harry was saved answering by McGonagall’s amplified voice. "Congratulations to everyone and thank you." Her smile, too, lit her eyes. "With your help, we’ve managed not only to complete the work, but ahead of schedule. All that’s left now is to have the Ministry attend to inspect and reinforce the structure and wards. Minister Shacklebolt has assured me that he will make available the necessary resources to have that completed in short order. We shall reopen on the first of September."
The crowd cheered.
"I do hope to see each and every one of you back here for our celebratory feast in two weeks’ time, whether you are returning to class or not. I would personally like to thank you for your hard work. And to those of you returning in the fall, it will be the first of many meals in our restored Great Hall."
"Are you coming back?" Malfoy asked.
Harry nodded. "Definitely. You?"
Malfoy shrugged. "Haven’t decided yet." He looked up at the castle and wrapped his arms around his middle. "I may take my NEWTs privately."
"Oh." Harry felt unaccountably disappointed at the thought of his final year without Malfoy. "That’ll be weird."
Malfoy gave him a curious look. "How so?"
"Dunno." Harry shrugged. "I guess it’s hard to imagine coming here and not having you around to get on my nerves."
Malfoy elbowed him. "I’m sure the weasel can do a fine job of that."
Harry laughed. "No doubt, but he doesn’t have your way with buttons or song writing." Potter Stinks flashed before his eyes and Weasley is our King echoed in his head.
"This is true. My talents are many and varied, and you’ve only seen the surface of what I’m capable of."
Harry snorted. "Indeed. But even if he had your extensive talents —" Malfoy nodded at this. "—Ron’s not coming back."
"He’s not? What about Granger? Surely she wouldn’t miss a chance to top the class for another year."
"Nope. Ron — actually, all the Weasleys — are still mourning Fred. I don’t think any of them want to come back here if they don’t have to." Malfoy stared up at the castle, arms wrapping around himself again. "Gin’s fine with her OWLs and plans on pursuing Quidditch, so she won’t need schooling so much as more time on a broom. And Ron’s going to work at Weasleys Wizard Wheezes. Hermione plans on staying home with her parents and studying for her NEWTs on her own, before deciding what specialty she wants to go into."
"Wait a minute." Malfoy tore his gaze from the castle to Harry and frowned. "Didn’t I hear something about you being offered a place in Auror training?"
"Yeah." The articles in the Prophet had varied — either strongly supportive of the Saviour being extended the training slot to speed up replacement of Aurors, or strongly against the clear favouritism from the Minister who’d been in the Order of the Phoenix with Harry. They’d rehashed all the old articles about Harry’s questionable mental state as well.
"So why not take it? Be done with this place?"
Harry ran a hand through his hair and looked up at Gryffindor Tower. "I like this place. It’s the first home I ever had, really." Malfoy didn’t respond. "Besides, I think I’d like to take a break from fighting the bad guys, y’know? Maybe have a normal year at school before going out and facing the world."
Malfoy narrowed his eyes and Harry felt like he was trying to work out if Harry was being serious. "You haven’t ever had a normal year here, have you?"
"I suppose not," Harry agreed. "But I did have normal moments. I think I’d like a few more of those before moving on."
"I guess you’ve got a point." Malfoy hesitated for a few moments, then wiped his hands on his robes. He held one out. "Well, I guess I’ll see you in a couple of weeks then, Potter."
Harry stared at the proffered hand for a moment before smiling and taking it in his own and shaking it. "See you in a couple of weeks, Malfoy."
"But I thought you were going into the Auror program," Ron said, completely baffled at Harry’s decision to return to school.
"Well, I think it’s a great idea," Hermione said. "After all, we didn’t exactly complete our education before the war."
"But you’re not going back!"
"I may yet. Who knows how I’ll do on my NEWTs."
Harry caught Ron’s eye as he rolled them. Harry coughed. "You’ll do brilliantly as always. You had McGonagall tutoring you by owl all this time, and no doubt you have reams of notes to study from."
"Well ... yes, but ... I don’t know. Maybe I should go back."
"I’d be happy to have you."
"And maybe you should too, Ron."
Ron’s hands shot up into the air. "Oh, don’t involve me, Hermione. I have a job, thanks very much. If I never see another text book or write another essay, it’ll be too soon for me."
Hermione scowled but didn’t argue. "Will it be strange for you, going back on your own?"
Harry sipped his tea and considered her question. "In a way, yes. I mean I’ll probably suck at all my classes without you there to help me." Hermione’s cheeks pinked at his words. "But I also won’t have all the distractions I had, what with Voldemort in my head — literally — and a war looming."
"Too true," Ron said. "I wonder if McGonagall will make you Head Boy."
Harry snorted. "Not bloody likely. Could you imagine?"
Ron chuckled. "Yeah, not really. But still, she’s bound to give you some position of authority."
Harry shrugged. "I don’t think I’d want it."
"Oh, but Harry! It would be wonderful —"
Ron stopped her before she went on a tangent. "Leave him be, Hermione. I think Harry maybe wants a normal year for a change."
"Exactly."
Hermione looked hesitantly at Ron before returning her gaze to Harry. "Is Malfoy returning?" Ron groaned.
"I’m not sure." Harry hoped so, but didn’t think Ron would appreciate hearing that. "He hadn’t decided when I last spoke to him."
"Oy! What are you, pen pals or something now?"
Harry laughed. "No, we’re not pen pals. I meant on the last day working at the school. But I’ll see him next week at the Hogwarts feast and I can ask him then."
Ron looked wary, but Hermione smiled.
"Well, Potter, I’ve decided to take pity on you."
Harry chuckled. "Well, that’s a first. How do you propose doing that?"
"I’ve decided to grace you with my presence in the fall."
"So you’re coming back then?" Malfoy nodded. Harry grinned. "That’s great!"
Malfoy’s wary expression morphed into a smile and his eyes had that blue sparkle in them again.
Ron, I hope you’re sitting. If not, you’d better do so.
Right. So McGonagall made some changes for this year. The eighth years are all housed in the new wing we added on — the one where they’ll eventually have some specialty classes starting in a couple of years. And no more houses, at least not for us. And — this is the part you’ll have to sit for — she thought that since we got on so well over the summer, Malfoy and I could room together. I did tell you he was returning, didn’t I?
So yeah. We’re roommates. Just the two of us — each of the rooms in the new wing has two beds, two desks and a bathroom. It’s actually pretty nice. Feels like we’re getting a bit of special treatment, being the upper class at the school. Malfoy, of course, thinks that as adults we should have private rooms, but will "suffer through it" if he must. Yeah, he’s still a spoiled git.
The bad part — okay, you probably think rooming with Malfoy is the bad part, but he’s not so awful now. Really. Anyway, the bad part is that no houses means no Quidditch house teams for us. I managed to convince Malfoy to play pick-up Quidditch, and we went to McGonagall to get her approval. She agreed, but the house teams get first dibs at the pitch.
Also, being adults, we can go to Hogsmeade whenever we want, so long as we don’t have activities and we don’t let our marks slide. Not sure how she’s going to keep a check on that, but whatever. It should give us something to do with our spare time.
So it should be an interesting year.
Harry.
Harry stared out at the grounds from the owlery, watching the school owl — he hadn’t the heart to replace Hedwig as yet — fly off to London with his letter. He breathed in deeply and smiled. It was good to be back. Even with all the changes, some of which he knew wouldn’t sink in completely for a while, it still felt like home. More, in fact, than Grimmauld Place. And without Sirius haunting every corner.
He wondered if he’d ever truly feel at home there. Maybe after he redecorated, made it his own. He’d meant to do that after the war, but all the funerals and trials had taken up his time, and then work at the school. And now he was back.
"What are you doing up here?" Malfoy’s voice echoed off the owlery walls.
"Just sent Ron a note, letting him know that we’re roommates."
Malfoy grinned. "Tell me you cast a spell to record his reaction. I want to see that!"
Harry chuckled. "Sorry. Don’t know that spell."
Malfoy scooped up his eagle owl, attached a note and sent it on its way. "So much to learn. How exactly was it that you managed to off the Dark Lord?"
Harry punched him in the arm. "I had Hermione on my side. Plus the entire Order of the Phoenix. All I had to do was show up."
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Sure, Potter. That’s how everyone remembers it."
Harry shrugged. "It’s true. I just had to show up, die, have your mom lie for me and get Voldemort alone on the other end of the Elder Wand. Piece of cake."
"The Elder Wand?" Harry had let it slip without realising what he was saying. Malfoy stared until Harry looked away. He still wasn’t very good at Occlumency.
"Long story," he hedged. "I’ll tell you another time. Why don’t we go eat now?"
Malfoy narrowed his eyes, but eventually relented. "Another time, then. We do have all year, after all, don’t we?"
Harry nodded and led the way down the stairs. "So, who was that letter for?"
"Whom. And it was to my parents."
Harry stopped and Malfoy bumped into him. He turned round. "Tell me you put that spell on your letter. And please tell me that you told Lucius that we’re rooming together. And tell me that I can see that reaction."
Malfoy smirked. "Maybe."
Harry surveyed the room. All in all, he’d done a reasonable job of unpacking and setting up his half. It was nowhere near as neat and organised as Malfoy’s side, but it was a darn sight neater than he was used to. He only hoped he’d be able to keep it that way.
A tapping came at the window and Harry let in a harried looking Pig who hooted and flew around the room a half dozen times before falling onto Harry’s bed.
Are you fucking kidding me?
Malfoy is your roommate? You’d better set strong wards around your bed or sleep with one eye open.
Maybe Hermione’s right. Maybe I should go back. Sounds like a sweet deal you have going there.
Nah, who am I kidding? I’m done with school. And you should be too. I’m sure Kingsley will hold that spot open for you in Auror training. Just say the word and you’re in.
Why are you doing this to yourself? You know you’re mental, right?
Get out while you can, before one or both of you is dead.
I expect updates regularly, if only to be sure you are alive and not in prison for killing the git.
Ron.
Harry laughed. "No recording, but you’re welcome to read Ron’s reaction." He handed Ron’s letter to Malfoy.
He glared as he handed the paper back to Harry. "I bet McGonagall would give you your own room if you asked her."
"Why would I do that?"
"So you wouldn’t have to—" He snatched back the letter and waved it at Harry. "—sleep with one eye open."
Harry snatched it back. "Oh, for fuck’s sake. I don’t think you’re going to try to kill me — or do anything else to me in my sleep. And Ron doesn’t either. He’s just joking." He waved the paper in front of Malfoy. "You did read the comment about me being put in jail for killing you too, right?" Malfoy scowled. "Well, do you think I am going to kill you in your sleep?"
"Of course not!"
"Exactly." Harry put the letter away. "Now that we’ve cleared that up and we trust that neither of us is planning to kill the other anywhere except perhaps — figuratively, of course — on the Quidditch pitch, do you want first dibs on the bathroom?"
Malfoy hesitated before nodding warily and collecting his things. Harry sighed. "Relax, Malfoy. I’m not one for practical jokes or anything that might not be considered much of a joke. If I’m going to do anything to you, it’ll be out in the open. Our room should be a space where we can both come to escape whatever else is going on. I won’t touch your stuff or tamper with your stuff or set a trap for you or anything else. You have my word." Malfoy’s shoulders relaxed. "And if you tell me you will do the same, then I’ll take you at your word."
"You trust me?"
Harry nodded. "Until you give me a reason not to."
Malfoy snorted. "Pretty sure I’ve given you plenty of those over the years."
"Same goes for me. But this is a new year. A new time. And we’re not on opposite sides — or in opposing houses — any more."
"I’m still a Slytherin, no matter what McGonagall’s new setup for the eighth years is."
"And I’m still a Gryffindor. But we’re adults now. Adults who’ve gone through a lot of shit and deserve to have some peace and — dare I say it — a place to relax without having to watch our backs every minute of every day. Agreed?"
Malfoy smiled. "Agreed."
While Malfoy was in the shower, Harry replied to Ron.
Ha, ha, Ron. Very funny.
No one is killing anyone. I think we’ve both seen enough death and violence to last a lifetime. Besides, we get along now and I like to think if we piss each other off, we can find a better way of dealing with it than we have in the past. No sleeping with one eye open.
No imminent demise or incarceration either.
And hey, this new setup is promising already: Malfoy’s way neater than either of us. Who knows? He might even rub off on me.
Class starts first thing in the morning, so I’d better pull together my books and try to remember some of the spells I learned two years ago.
Harry.
He tossed the note aside, wanting to give Pig a bit longer to recover from his journey, and pulled out his schedule. He’d managed to gather his books and was reading the first chapter of the seventh year Charms book when Malfoy emerged, hair dripping — a darker shade than his usual white blond — and wrapped in a forest green robe.
"Bathroom’s all yours."
Twenty minutes later, Harry returned to the bedroom feeling refreshed. Malfoy gave him a strange look and Harry looked down at his pyjama pants and bare chest. His frame wasn’t nearly as scrawny as it had been — he’d been eating properly and exercising regularly as part of his post-war routine — but he remained self-conscious after years of malnutrition. In as light a tone as he could manage, he said, "We can’t all own fancy robes."
Malfoy blinked and looked up at Harry. "No, of course not." His face had reddened slightly. "It’s just ... you’re still wet."
"Oh, yeah. I like a really hot shower so it helps me to cool down if I don’t dry off entirely. But I’m not dripping, so no wet floor." He walked to his bed and climbed in. As an afterthought he picked up his wand and conjured a glass of water.
"You didn’t take your wand with you?" Malfoy asked.
"In the shower?" Harry said. "Why would I do that?"
"But you left it here." With me was left unsaid and Harry understood.
"I trust you, Malfoy. Not in a duel or on the Quidditch pitch or in class — you are still a Slytherin, after all — but here, in our room, I meant what I said. I trust you."
Harry was just starting to drift off when a strange, distant banging pulled him back to consciousness. He stared up at the unfamiliar ceiling and as he properly woke, remembered where he was. He turned his head to the side to see a fuming Malfoy glaring down at him, mumbling something Harry couldn’t hear. He sat up and waved his hand, mumbling Finite under his breath.
"... all just a load of crap! If you had a problem with me, you could have just said —"
"Whoa, whoa, Malfoy. What the hell?"
He shook and he looked furious. "You trust me, my arse!"
"What are you going on about?"
"I tried to say something to you, but you didn’t answer me. At first I thought you couldn’t hear me, so I came over only to discover this ... this ... ward around your bed. So much for trusting me. You could have just said, instead of making me believe —" Harry pulled his glasses of the side table and put them on. When he looked at Malfoy, it wasn’t just anger he saw, but hurt.
"Hold on a minute. Let me explain."
"No need to explain. I’ll talk to McGonagall in the morning, and you can have your own space."
As Malfoy tried to walk away, Harry grabbed his wrist. "I meant what I said earlier."
He pulled his arm free. "Then why the ward?"
"It’s not a ward; it’s a sound barrier. You could have dropped it with a simple Finite like I did." Malfoy looked doubtful. Harry ran his hands through his hair. "Look, I get nightmares, okay. A lot of nightmares. Not every night, but enough that I didn’t want to disturb you."
"Oh."
"Yeah. I also don’t really like talking about it, so ... if you didn’t know, you wouldn’t ask."
Malfoy’s entire body relaxed and he looked at Harry. "I get them too. Quite a lot, actually."
Harry nodded. "I bet you do." He could only imagine, from the few glimpses he’d had into Voldemort’s head, what might haunt Malfoy’s dreams. "So ... we’re good?"
"We’re good. Sorry I thought —"
"We’ve got a lot of history, and until recently it wasn’t particularly good. Add to that having a madman living in your house for nearly a year, and I suspect trust doesn’t come easily to you. But maybe it will ... in time."
"I don’t understand you. How can you —?"
Harry sat up and let out a sigh. He hadn’t planned to rehash the past, but ... "I saw you, on the Tower, the night Dumbledore died. I wasn’t lying when I testified for you. You’re not a killer. I know that what you did you did for your parents. I’ve thought about it a lot, actually. Obsessed about it, to hear Ron tell the story. Anyway, I have some idea what your father was like. And I knew Voldemort, more than I’d care to admit. You grew up around that and I don’t think you’re a bad person. You were in an untenable situation and you did what you thought you had to. Frankly, I don’t know that I’d do it differently myself."
Malfoy scoffed. "Yeah, right."
"I can’t say for sure I would have done things differently. We’ll never know, because I’ve never had to make that choice."
"You would have done the right thing."
"You sound so convinced." Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "I don’t think I am. But whatever happened, whatever the reasons, whatever horrible choices we all had to make, we made it through to the other side. And you’re not a killer. You didn’t take joy in the torturing of others. I think, deep down, you’re a good person who made bad choices. And, let’s be honest, you’ve paid for those choices."
Malfoy stared for a long moment before saying, "You really believe that?"
"I do." Harry had long ago accepted the truth of that. "So what did you want?"
"What did I ... what?"
"You said you were trying to talk to me, but the barrier prevented me hearing you."
"Oh. Right. Um ... it was nothing. Just asking about what classes you’re taking."
Harry laughed. "Same as sixth year: Charms, Potions, Transfiguration, Defence and Herbology. You?"
"Same, minus Herbology, plus Ancient Runes and Arithmancy."
"So, Charms first thing tomorrow?"
"Right." He fidgeted as he looked down awkwardly at Harry. "Sorry to have woken you."
Harry removed his glasses and put them back on the table. "No worries. And remember, a simple Finite to drop the barrier."
Hey, Ron.
Things are going well here. Classes are pretty good — stuff is finally coming back to me, thank Merlin — and even Potions is tolerable. It helps to have Malfoy as my partner, though Slughorn still looks as though he’s expecting spectacular things from me, only to be disappointed by my adequate results. Baffled seems to be his usual expression.
Defence is great. The new professor is a bit odd, but considering our past experience, not too bad overall. And I think I’m helping Malfoy as much as he’s helping me with Potions, so I’m not feeling completely useless. Transfiguration is as tricky as ever, but we both seem to be doing well in that and Charms. Herbology is boring — don’t tell Neville I said that — but manageable.
We haven’t started with Quidditch yet, but we’ve taken our brooms out for a couple of flights over the grounds. Malfoy nearly ran into a tree when a Centaur rode across our path. Good thing he’s such a good flyer or he could have been hurt badly.
Hagrid says hi. We’re heading down to his place for tea later (we’re bringing some cakes from the castle). You’d have laughed to see Malfoy’s face when he first saw Buckbeak again, but he’s managed to warm up to him and Buckbeak seems to have forgiven him.
How are things at the shop? George getting used to having you underfoot?
Gotta run. Tell Hermione I’ll write to her soon. And say hi to the family for me.
Harry.
Harry folded up his note. "You done with yours yet? I can take it to the owlery with mine."
Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "As if I’d give you a note I’m sending."
"What? I wouldn’t read it!"
"Sure, you wouldn’t." At Harry’s affronted look, he said, "I’d read yours, no question, and you bloody well know it." He raised a hand as Harry was about to argue. "I wouldn’t do anything to purposely harm you or your things, or sabotage you — Quidditch aside, naturally — but I draw the line at quashing my own innate desire to know all things. And I don’t believe for a moment you’d be any different." He signed his name with a flourish, folded and sealed his parchment with wax, then got up. "Let’s go send these things off and get some decent cakes from the kitchens."
Harry laughed. "Alright, alright." Malfoy was probably right. Harry might not want to read his letters, but curiosity might win out. Oh, who was he kidding? Of course it would. "But I admit to nothing."
"Whatever, Potter." He led the way to the kitchens. Just before tickling the pear, he asked, "Do you think Hagrid will ever get the hint and stop making food for us?"
Harry grinned. "Not likely. But he knows how the house elves love to cater to us, so at least he won’t be insulted."
Pig arrived, excited and exhausted as ever, a few days later.
Hey, Harry.
Good to hear from you. Hermione looks forward to an update soon. Her parents are doing really well and she’s currently buried in books as she prepares for her NEWTs.
So, sounds like you and Malfoy are really getting along. Weird, but good I guess, since you’re stuck with him for the year.
Anyway, Hogsmeade! George and I were planning to look at premises — remember he and Fred had thought about Zonko’s old shop? We’ll be there late Saturday and thought you might want to join us for dinner and a pint at the Three Broomsticks.
Send Pig back with an answer and we can meet you there around six.
Ron.
Harry tossed the note onto his table. "You busy for dinner Saturday?"
Malfoy shook his head. "No, why?"
"Hogsmeade. Ron’ll be in town and wants to meet for dinner and a pint."
He scowled. "And you’re inviting me? I doubt Weasley would want —"
"He’s bringing George, so it’s no problem. It’ll be fun. Besides ... we’re adults, remember?"
"We might be adults, but Weasley ..."
Harry laughed. "Fair point. But still. We can spend the afternoon there, pick up a few supplies, look around. You said something about a new book you wanted. You could even drag me into Flourish and Blotts. Come on. We haven’t taken advantage of the extra freedom we have this year. We haven’t even left the castle in weeks."
"Okay, okay. We’ll do Hogsmeade. But I don’t know about dinner with the Weasleys."
"Well, we can go, have a pint, and if it’s too uncomfortable you can head back here to eat and I’ll see you later."
As they approached the Three Broomsticks, Malfoy stopped and stared up at the sign. Then Harry realised where they were and what this must mean for him. "Shit, Malfoy, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think ... I forgot ... You don’t have to come in if you don’t want to."
Malfoy took a deep breath, then looked from the sign to Harry. "No, it’s fine. Adults, right? I can do this."
"Are you sure?"
He nodded. "Yes."
Ron and George hadn’t arrived, so they grabbed a booth near the back. Harry sat, but Malfoy remained standing. "I’ll be right back. I’ve got something to do first."
Harry nodded then watched Malfoy approach the bar. He spoke briefly to Rosmerta before returning to the table, two pints in hand. Harry raised a brow in question.
"I wrote to her after the war, apologising, and she accepted my explanation. But I didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable, so I asked her if it was okay that I stay for dinner."
"And what did she say?"
"That she’d already forgiven me months ago, and I’m welcome here any time."
Harry smiled. "Good."
"Well, she’s okay with me being here, but will the Weasleys be?"
Harry took a long sip of his beer and saw Ron and George enter. "I guess we’re about to find out."
While waiting for their food, Malfoy excused himself to the washroom and George went up to the bar to get the next round.
"So ... Malfoy?"
Harry sipped the last of his beer. "What about him?"
"You two seem tight."
Harry shrugged. "I guess so."
"So you’re friends now?"
"Yeah," Harry chuckled. "I guess we are. Who’d have thought?"
"Yeah." Ron looked troubled. "I wasn’t expecting him to be here today."
Annoyance bubbled beneath the surface as he recalled Malfoy’s trepidation about coming here today. "Well, I didn’t think it was a closed session, what with George coming along. We spent the afternoon here and I thought it might be nice to invite him along. That’s not a problem, is it? I mean, you didn’t say not to invite him."
"I know. It’s just that ... well, you seem to do everything together now. And I was thinking ... well, really, Hermione was thinking ..."
Ron was saved from saying just what he and Hermione had been thinking when George returned, drinks in hand. "Drink up, boys! Next round’s on you, little brother."
Most of the dinner was spent listening to George talk about the shop and some of his latest gadgets. Business was doing well — fun, games and laughter were always good things — and Ron had settled into the role nicely, acting as the primary contact for the Ministry in addition to his other duties. The four of them spent a great deal of time laughing at some of the more outrageous stories — mainly surrounding product testing — that George and Ron relayed, and Harry was relieved that the evening had gone so well.
"Right. My turn!" Harry got up and went to the bar. "Another round," he told Rosmerta.
"You boys seem to be having a good time," she said.
Harry grinned. "Yeah, Malfoy was nervous about coming here, but ... well, it seems to have worked out okay."
"He’s not so bad, your young Mr Malfoy. Not at all like his father."
Harry grabbed the pints and nodded. "Thank Merlin for that!"
He returned to the table and passed the drinks to everyone. "Next one’s on you, Malfoy."
"Not for us, mate," George said. "We’ve got brunch at mum’s tomorrow. This is our last, but you two carry on." He lifted his glass in a toast. "You know, you’re not as big a prick as we took you for, Malfoy. Cheers to that."
Harry braced for a reaction. To his relief, Malfoy laughed. "I’ll take that as a compliment, thanks." He raised his own glass. "And here’s to surviving an entire evening with a pack of Gryffindors and living to tell the tale."
They all laughed and clinked glasses. And by the time Ron and George left, they’d planned for another Hogsmeade evening the following month.
Malfoy returned to the table from the bar and placed a pint and two shots in front of each of them. He sat down and lifted one of his shots. "To surviving relatively unscathed." He tossed it back.
Harry lifted his own. "Relatively?" He tossed his back too.
Malfoy lifted his second shot. "He’ll only kill me if I hurt you, so here’s to that." He tossed his second back and chased it with a sip of beer.
"He what?!"
Malfoy waved away the question. "I’m sure my friends would say the same to you if they were here. Or they’d want to anyway and if they had enough to drink they might muster up the courage. Saviour and all that rot. Anyway, never mind that. Whatever happened between you and their little sister? You’ve never said."
Harry fought back the urge to return to the subject of Ron’s threat. "You never asked."
"Well? The papers speculated a lot about it but I don’t recall either of you being quoted on what actually happened."
"Careful, Malfoy, or I’ll think you read all the articles on me."
He snorted. "Hard to miss the headlines, even if one doesn’t read the articles. Now stop stalling."
Harry shrugged. "Nothing much to say." He waved his hand to cast a Muffliato. "Nothing nearly as salacious as the papers speculated. We split up before the war, the war happened, we drifted apart."
"But she’s with Longbottom now."
Harry sipped his beer. "That she is. I think they’re a better fit."
"Do you?" He stared at Harry before adding, "And you weren’t jealous?"
Harry frowned. "No." He eyed his second shot, pondering how much to say. He opted for diversion instead. "So what happened between you and Parkinson? I’d have thought you’d be married by now."
The look he shot Harry said that he knew exactly what Harry was doing. He answered anyway. "We would have been, or at least well along the way planning it, if our parents were the ones deciding." He sipped his beer slowly, biding his time, Harry guessed. "But fortunately, they were not and we will never be married."
"I bet she took that hard."
"Not really."
"Oh, come on. She spent half her time at Hogwarts draped over you. There’s no way she was the one to make that decision."
Malfoy shuddered. "Yes, well ... I did have to explain things to her eventually, back near the end of fifth year. She didn’t take it well, but eventually she came around."
Harry coughed. "Oh, sure. I saw the way she glared at anyone looking just that little too long at you. I bet she was oh so willing to let some other witch get her hands on you."
"That wasn’t exactly her concern."
"Excuse me?"
He reached across the table and snatched Harry’s second shot. After drinking it, he said, "It wasn’t witches she had to worry about. Not really my type."
Harry took a moment for the words to sink in. He didn’t mean ...? Surely not ... "Oh," he said lamely. "I didn’t know." He reached for his beer. "I mean ..." He gulped some back. "Oh," he said again.
Malfoy’s hands clenched his pint. "Is that a problem?"
"No!" Harry said quickly. "Of course not. Not at all." Harry took a long pull of his beer and tried to calm his bouncing thoughts. Not a problem in the way you think, anyway.
"You’re sure?" Malfoy didn’t sound convinced.
"Yes, I’m sure. Positive." He stood up. Malfoy looked alarmed. "I’ll be right back." He went to the bar and ordered four more shots and a couple of pints for good measure. He returned to the table and placed half in front of Malfoy before sitting down and tossing back his first shot. Restoring the Muffliato, he looked Malfoy in the eye. "I meant what I said about Gin and Neville: I think they’re a better fit. But I left out the part about me." He sipped his beer. This shouldn’t be so hard, but it was. Malfoy had just told him ... but he’d had time — years — to get used to the idea. Harry hadn’t even realised ... not until recently ... and he’d told no one. He took another sip. "I ..."
He looked at Malfoy, took a deep breath and channelled his inner Gryffindor. "I wasn’t attracted to her anymore. I tried to be, but ... I realised she’s more like a sister to me. That attraction that had been there just ... wasn’t anymore. And when I went out — free from all the shit I’d had bouncing around in my head for so long — I figured out that, well ... I’m attracted to guys." There. He’d said it. "Girls too," he added, "but more guys."
He stared at the table, waiting for Malfoy to say something. Anything. When he didn’t, Harry looked up. "Well?"
Malfoy frowned. "You’ve never told anyone that before, have you?"
"No."
"Thank you."
"I ... what?"
"Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me."
"Oh. Well then. You’re welcome, I guess."
"Are you alright?"
Heart racing in his chest, blood pooling in his face, he wasn’t sure how to answer that. But looking at Malfoy, he realised he wasn’t alone. "Not really. But I will be."
Continued in part 2
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