CHAPTERED FIC (21/21, PART TWO): Immortalitas Aestas - R - H/D [COMPLETE]
Chapter Twenty-One, Part I
A couple of hours later, Draco stretched out on his bed in his room, linking his fingers behind his head and staring up at the canopy unseeingly.
Professor Snape had been located, still in the hospital wing, with Madam Pomfrey shaking her wand threateningly at him. Once Pansy had told him about Tracey, however, he'd grudgingly allowed her to heal him up, complaining all the while, and then followed Draco and Pansy down to the Slytherin common room. He'd taken the charm off the door of the seventh year girls' dorm, and, as soon as Blaise had entered, softly calling out Tracey's name, she'd thrown back the curtains of her bed and launched herself at him, clutching onto him and sobbing into his shoulder. Draco had left shortly after that, with Pansy - eyes again filling with tears - following him, unable to bear her sadness.
Hot chocolate had been procured from a house elf, and Draco had shared a cup with Pansy in her room before heading across the hall to his own, where he was now alone once again with his thoughts. The letter from his father had been deposited in his desk drawer, because if he had it in his hands he was going to continue to read it, over and over, although by now he had memorized the whole damn thing. He wanted to talk to his mother about it, but wasn't sure what to say. He kept thinking maybe he was missing something, that there was more to Lucius' words than what he'd actually written, but was afraid of being disappointed; his father had already let him down too often in the past.
Then there was the whole mess with Theo. It hadn't surprised Draco to learn that Theo had played a role in bringing down the wards that allowed the Death Eaters to Apparate right onto the Hogwarts' grounds. He and Pansy had been right to be suspicious of his strange behavior; he'd apparently gotten away from Flitwick when the tiny professor had taken those students who had decided they didn't want to fight in the battle to the Charms classroom, sneaking away with the help of a disillusionment charm. He'd opened up a passageway between the school and Honeydukes, and, with a Death Eater feeding him the spells to use - the charm they'd placed on the school made it impossible for anyone who hadn't been charmed to enter the school itself - had set about bringing down the wards. Theo had also been the one responsible for placing the initial heat spell on the school. Draco wondered if he'd been acting of his own free will or if he'd been a victim of an Imperius curse; Theo had never really been all that vocal about the Dark Lord in the past, although Draco knew for a fact that Mr. Nott was definitely a Death Eater. Nonetheless, Theo had been removed from the school and was awaiting trial by the Ministry, along with all the other surviving Death Eaters that had been rounded up post-battle.
His musing was interrupted by a very soft, barely-there knock on his door. In fact, if it hadn't been completely silent in his room he probably wouldn't have even heard it. Draco slid to his feet, briefly wondering who it was, and opened the door. He was greeted with the sight of an empty corridor.
"Hello, invisible friend," he murmured, feeling something silky brush past him, and hearing a huff of laughter. As he closed the door, Harry appeared in front of him, hair standing on end from his cloak.
Draco leaned back against the door, crossing his arms over his chest, and simply stared at Harry, drinking in the sight of him. Harry seemed content to simply watch Draco watch him. He folded his cloak and draped it over an arm, all the while keeping his eyes on Draco's face.
"How are you feeling?" Draco finally asked, reaching out for the cloak and carefully laying it over the back of his desk chair.
"My head hurts again," Harry answered honestly, "but I'm otherwise okay."
Draco moved past Harry and opened the drawer of his bedside table, rummaging around until he found a small bottle of pain-relieving potion. He uncorked it and handed it to Harry, who gave him a small smile.
"Cheers," Harry murmured, downing the potion in one go, and sighing in relief as it started working. He handed the bottle back to Draco, who tossed it onto his desk.
Even though he and Harry had spent numerous hours alone together, this time he felt slightly awkward. It didn't take a genius to figure out why, of course; not only had things changed in regard to the war, but there was also that pesky declaration of love that Draco had blurted out in front of Voldemort, and the matter of his Patronus changing shape. Neither of which they'd exactly gotten a chance to talk about, what with having to kill said Dark Lord and the subsequent bouts of unconsciousness, and then being surrounded by people Draco wasn't about to bare his soul to. It was difficult enough to talk about his feelings with Harry, and Draco was in love with him.
"So…." Harry began, rubbing his arms with his hands.
Draco gave a short laugh, grabbing his wand and flicking it toward the fireplace to get a fire going, then casting silencing and locking charms on his door. Leave it to Harry to try to mow right on through the strangeness between them.
"I think we need tea," Draco announced. Harry blinked in surprise.
"Okay," he said uncertainly, fingers clenching in his sleeves. "I can ask Dobby."
Draco gave a nod and watched as Dobby was summoned, bobbing up and down in excitement to be helping "Mr. Harry Potter, sir". He disappeared and almost instantly reappeared with tea, two cups and a plate of biscuits, which he set up on Draco's bedside table before disappearing again.
Harry looked at him, apprehension apparent in his gaze, and Draco bit back a sigh. They were going to have to sort this out, and soon, before Harry got the wrong idea about Draco's thoughts.
"Sit, Harry," Draco said, motioning toward his bed. Harry sat on the edge, fingers toying with the edge of his dressing gown until Draco reached out and laid his hands over the nervous fingers.
Harry looked up at him, wide-eyed, and before Draco consciously thought about it, he'd leaned forward and brought them together in a kiss. As soon as their lips met, Harry's mouth opened, allowing Draco's tongue access. They kissed languidly for a long time, Draco realizing that he hadn't been able to kiss Harry and have the kiss returned since before the battle. Draco leaned further into Harry, dropping him onto his back, with Draco balancing his weight on his knees and forearms over him. After a moment, Draco broke the kiss, leaning back slightly so he could look into Harry's eyes.
Harry was slightly confused, Draco could tell, no doubt trying to figure out exactly what was going on. Draco rolled off him, sitting next to the prone figure, but keeping one hand on Harry's chest, where he could feel the thump of his heartbeat. Harry raised himself up on an elbow and turned his head to keep eye contact.
"Draco?" he said questioningly, the uncertainty clear in his voice. Harry brought his other hand up to rest lightly on the back of the hand on his chest.
"I'm sorry, Harry," Draco said. "I know I'm acting strangely."
Harry didn't say anything, but sat up further, the movement dislodging Draco's hand. "Is this about the prophecy?"
Draco gave a slight laugh. "No. I don't care about the prophecy, Harry. That part of your life is over, and doesn't matter anymore."
"Then what?" Harry asked, folding his legs under him and turning to fully face Draco.
Draco reached for one of the teacups and took a quick swallow, nearly scalding his mouth on the hot liquid. He tried to figure out how to best start this conversation, but decided he'd probably just better come out and say what he meant, or Harry was likely to misunderstand; he had a feeling there hadn't been too many people who had told Harry that they'd cared for him.
In the end he decided to just be blunt, and grabbing the proverbial bull by the horns, he said, "I love you," feeling his face flush but ignoring it. Instead he focused on the way Harry went very still, and his eyes went very wide.
"You…." Harry seemed overwhelmed. "I … you'd said so, you know, to Voldemort, and I saw your Patronus, but I…." He trailed off, bringing his hands up and burying his face in them, fingers dislodging his glasses. He sat that way for a moment, and Draco saw that he was shaking slightly.
"Harry?" he asked in concern, setting the cup down and reaching out to pull Harry's hands away from his face. "Are you okay?" Draco tried to fight back the dread that sprung up at Harry's reaction; maybe he'd said something wrong. Maybe Harry didn't feel the same, and didn't know how to tell him.
Harry allowed him to take his hands, which Draco gripped tightly. When Harry opened his eyes, Draco could see tears, which Harry was trying to blink away. Harry reached forward, wrapping his fingers into the front of Draco's jumper, Draco shifting his grasp to Harry's wrists.
"Draco," Harry finally said, voice thick with emotion.
"You don't have to say it back," Draco hurriedly interrupted, wanting to end this discussion before Harry could say he didn't feel the same. "I just wanted you to know. I mean, I guess you knew already, what with my Patronus, like you said - and I can't believe Pansy actually thought it was me, can you? - but I'd never actually said the words to you, you know? I didn't think my weird revelation to my father and Voldemort really sufficed, seeing as they were basically your two worst enemies, so I just-"
"Draco," Harry said again, thankfully putting an end to Draco's ridiculous ramble. "Draco, I love you, too."
And oh, if he hadn't already been quiet, those words would have done it. Draco's hands gripped Harry's wrists tightly, a sense of wonder filling him.
"Yeah?" he managed to get out; it was hard to speak when it felt like his heart was strangling him.
Harry gave him a heartbreakingly sweet smile. "Yeah."
Draco looked at Harry for a long moment - he vaguely realized that they sure seemed to be doing a lot of staring at each other - and then leaned forward and kissed him again.
The kiss was sweet and tender. As Draco pulled away slightly he could feel Harry's smile, and knew there was an answering one on his own face. Harry slid his hands around Draco's back, pulling him closer, and brought his forehead down to rest on Draco's shoulder. Draco obligingly wrapped Harry up in a hug.
It was quiet for a long moment, which was broken when Harry yawned against Draco's shoulder.
"Are you going back to your dorm?" Draco asked.
Harry shook his head and tightened his grip. "No, I want to stay here," he murmured.
"Good, because I want you to stay here. Budge up, and I'll pull the covers down."
Harry disentangled himself with a sigh, standing slowly. Draco stood as well and pulled the blankets down. Harry took off his dressing gown, dropping it in a pile at his feet, and placed his glasses on the bedside table along with his wand. As soon as Draco had the covers settled, Harry crawled under the sheets. Draco scooped the robe off the floor and folded it, setting it over his desk chair alongside Harry's invisibility cloak.
He quickly changed into pajamas and doused the lights, climbing into bed next to Harry and lying on his back. Harry immediately curled up next to him and pressed against his side. Draco brought a hand up to card through Harry's hair, the other arm wrapping around his shoulders.
"I'm surprised you got away from your friends," Draco said quietly. "I wouldn't have thought they'd let you out of their sight."
"I told them I was tired and going to bed," replied Harry. "I pulled my curtains and slipped out of the Tower as someone was coming in. I’m sure they checked on me and found me gone, but I left the map on my bed so they'd be able to see where I was."
Draco could tell Harry was on the verge of falling asleep; his voice was drifting in and out, sounding soft and sleepy.
He pressed a kiss to Harry's forehead, right over his scar. Harry gave another yawn and snuggled closer.
"Sorry," Harry said sleepily. "I don't know why I'm so tired, seeing as I've done little else but sleep all day."
"Killing Dark Lords is a perfectly valid reason for being tired," Draco said gently. "Go to sleep, Harry. We can talk more tomorrow."
Harry made a vague sound of agreement, but needed no more prompting; his breathing turned deep and even within minutes, and Draco smiled into the darkness. His last conscious thought before he followed Harry into sleep was that he could definitely get used to falling asleep with Harry tucked against him.
***
Harry stood in the first row of the Gryffindor Quidditch stands, looking out over the pitch. The day had dawned bright and sunny, with barely a cloud in the sky. There was just a hint of chill in the air; enough to warrant a cloak but not quite cold enough for scarves and mittens. Harry crossed his arms and settled them on the top of the wall in front of him.
He had needed some time to himself, to think about everything that had happened the past week. It was hard to believe that only that much time had passed; surely when your whole life changed it should take longer than a few days.
The mass funeral had been held the previous day; there had been so many people milling around the Hogwarts' grounds that Harry was positive the entire wizarding world was in attendance. He'd been decked out in brand new black formal dress robes and forced to endure the flashes of what felt like hundreds of cameras. He had attempted to ignore them, as well as the curious stares and pointing fingers of pretty much everyone in the crowd aside from his fellow students; they had thankfully gotten their staring and whispering out of the way during the previous day's mealtimes.
Harry had desperately wanted to sit with Draco during the funeral, but in the end both boys had decided that Harry would be getting enough attention as it was. Draco hadn't wanted to make it worse for Harry, and Harry hadn't wanted the press to run wild with speculation about Draco, especially since his father had managed to escape capture. The Daily Prophet was full of headlines regarding the search for escaped Death Eaters, with Lucius Malfoy getting much of their focus.
So instead Harry had sat stiffly between Ron and Hermione, feeling thousands of pairs of eyes looking at him from every angle. Sirius had done his best to keep the reporters at bay - there might have been a number of lowly-intoned threats growled in Rita Skeeter's general direction - but he couldn't protect Harry from the camera flashes, or the whispers, or the fear and awe on everyone's faces. Ron and Hermione had stayed close to him, but all that that had accomplished was them getting their pictures taken every other second as well.
The funeral had taken nearly an entire day with all the people who had wanted to get up and speak. It had started promptly at nine in the morning, and aside from a lunch break (courtesy of the Hogwarts' house elves), had continued on late into the evening when fairy lights had had to be conjured to light the grounds. Harry had had to content himself with short glances in Draco's direction (which were usually immediately followed by Draco looking in Harry's direction, much to Hermione's amusement), and an impromptu snog session in the broom cupboard off of the entrance hall during lunch that had left Harry slightly dusty and smelling a bit like lemon floor cleaner, which Draco had accidentally spilled in the dark.
Listening to everyone get up and speak at the funeral had been heart-wrenching. Harry didn't even know a lot of the people who had been killed, but listening to their loved ones - parents, siblings, spouses, children - had been awful. While he knew logically that there wasn't really anything he could have done to prevent their deaths, there was a part of him that still felt guilty; maybe if he'd just been able to kill Voldemort sooner, so many wouldn't have been lost.
Harry hadn't spoken, although he was thinking now that he perhaps should have, even though he hadn't felt up to it ; while he felt sadness for those who had lost family members, he had been incredibly lucky in that everyone he cared about had survived. But the truth was that he'd done all the talking he was interested in doing when he'd given his little speech prior to the battle, and again when he'd finally been prodded by his housemates into recounting how he'd killed Voldemort (leaving out Draco's proclamation, of course). They had all sat perfectly still and silent, completely spellbound by his tale.
He knew he would eventually have to speak to the media, but was hoping he'd be able to put it off just a little longer. He wasn't looking forward to the conversation, and only hoped he'd be able to pick the time and place.
Harry had wanted to do something special for Pansy and Tracey; while he was not what you would call friends with either of them, he'd spent the entire last year working closely with them and wanted to pay his respects and let them know he was thinking about them. He'd asked Hermione for help, and the two of them had researched flowers and their meanings. He had wanted to convey his sorrow for their suffering and also wanted to wish them well. After much deliberation (which was hampered by the small time frame they'd had to work with), he finally settled on a small bouquet of snowdrops, sweet briar and yarrow, with a white ribbon wrapped around their stems.
When he had presented the flowers to Pansy, she took one look at them and promptly launched herself at Harry, nearly strangling him with the force of her hug. He'd returned it carefully, well aware that she was fighting tears and not wanting to do anything to push her over the edge. The look Draco had given him was so full of emotion that he'd found it difficult to swallow. Pansy had pulled back, and in a slightly tremulous voice, had said, "Thank you, Harry." It had been the first time she had ever called him by his given name.
Tracey had been a bit more reserved, but the gratitude on her face had spoken volumes. She'd taken the flowers from him gently and lightly touched one of the blossoms with the tip of her finger. When she'd thanked him - quietly but heartfelt - she'd called him Potter, but she'd given him a small smile that more than made up for it. Blaise had given him a solemn nod.
Both girls had held the flowers throughout the funeral, and Harry had been glad he could help them feel even a little bit better. By the time it was all said and done, however, Harry never wanted to see another person - aside from his immediate circle, of course - again in his life, or at the very least, the imminent future. That was why he was now standing alone in the Quidditch stands, watching a bird of some kind or other glide across the sky before disappearing into the trees of the forest.
Harry shifted position slightly, pulling his cloak more tightly around him. He was surprised no one had come looking for him; he had disappeared - literally - right after breakfast, using his invisibility cloak to sneak past the few dedicated reporters that were still lurking around the front steps. Dumbledore had set some wards so that they were unable to enter the castle itself, but he seemed unable to make them leave entirely.
Hogwarts was preparing for the students' departure, as it had been decided that expecting everyone to be focused on their classes and upcoming exams was too much to ask, especially since many of them had suffered losses in the battle. The Ministry was making plans to hold summer classes so fifth and seventh years could finish out their current term and take their O.W.Ls and N.E.W.T.s, respectively. Everyone else would simply forego their exams and efforts would be made to catch them up next year.
Harry slung an elbow up on the wall and rested his chin in his hand. It was hard to believe that he was leaving Hogwarts for the last time; the summer classes would be held at the Ministry itself, rather than the school, in order to allow everyone to be with their families. He had a lot to look forward to this summer; not only would he not have to return to the Dursleys (or even see them again if he didn't want to), but Sirius had purchased a nice house in the country where he and Narcissa were planning on living, and had already told Harry that a room had been reserved just for him. But Hogwarts had been his first real home, the first place he'd truly been happy. It was sad to think that he would never again walk its corridors or wind his way down the grand staircase as a student. There would be no more Gryffindor versus Slytherin Quidditch matches in which he would grab the Snitch right out from under Draco's nose, no more attempts to win the House Cup, and no more celebrations in the Gryffindor common room. That part of his life was nearly over, and Harry wasn't sure how to feel about it.
Of course, moving on wasn't all bad. Draco also had a room in Sirius and Narcissa's new home, although Harry sort of thought that was pointless, as he had no intention of them sleeping apart if they were both under the same roof.
Draco had told Harry about the letter he'd received from his father. The next day he had received a whole bundle of paperwork from Gringott's detailing the transfer of the Malfoy bank accounts and assets over to Draco. Harry could tell that Draco was completely overwhelmed by it all; last night he'd simply held him as Draco rambled on about everything in his head, continuing to talk until the wee hours of the morning, when he'd finally fallen into an exhausted sleep mid-sentence.
What Harry had been able to pick up from Draco's run of words was that, while he was ashamed of the choices his father had made, he was still proud to be a Malfoy, still proud of his heritage. Malfoy Manor was his birthright, along with everything inside its walls. That being said, Draco wasn't ready to live there; without his parents, the Manor was too big, too lonely and too empty. He had a vague plan to go through it, room by room, and rid it of anything and everything related to Voldemort. Most of those items had been disposed of previously, as Lucius had never quite managed to convince everyone at the Ministry that he was a law-abiding citizen, and hadn't wanted to keep anything that might cause a problem should the Ministry decide to try another raid. Anything that wasn't directly related to Voldemort, even if it was perhaps a bit grey in nature, was being kept, though, as Draco had a natural curiosity for learning and figured some things were better off in his hands than anyone else's.
He was pulled from his musing when someone called his name, and he looked down toward the pitch to find Draco staring up at him, one hand shielding his eyes from the sun. He had a piece of parchment clutched in one hand, which Harry assumed to be the Marauder's Map.
"Harry, come down!" Draco called up to him. "Everyone's nearly ready to leave!"
"All right!" Harry called back, and, after another look around the pitch, headed toward the stairs of the stands and down to the ground. Draco was waiting for him at the exit from the stands, and as Harry appeared, he handed him back the map.
"Hermione gave it to me," he said, wrapping one arm around Harry's shoulders and pulling him close to place a kiss on his temple. Harry gave a nod in response, leaning closer to Draco, enjoying his warmth as he tucked the map into his cloak pocket.
"You're cold," Draco murmured, turning Harry to face him fully and wrapping his arms around him. "How long have you been out here?"
"Since after breakfast," Harry said, tucking his face into the side of Draco's neck. "I needed some time to think."
Draco made a vague noise of agreement and held him for a moment, before reluctantly releasing him and stepping back. "We have to go. Weasley brought your trunk down for you, although I think Sirius is just going to take it. He already has mine."
Harry nodded and tucked his hands into his pockets, pulling his cloak around him. "Is Skeeter still hanging about the front doors?"
Draco gave a slight smile. "Yes. And she tried to ask me all sorts of questions about my father, which I gave vague answers to. I have no idea where he is, but of course no one believes me." His voice had gone slightly bitter.
"I believe you," Harry said with a smile, which melted Draco's cynicism. He gave Harry a half smile.
"You aren't exactly one of the people I have to convince," he said dryly, slinging an arm around Harry's shoulders as they made their way back to the castle.
When they got within view of the doors, Draco dropped his arm and moved away from Harry slightly, knowing where there were reporters, there were cameras. Harry could pick out Rita Skeeter's lime green robes from where he was standing; she was as close to the school as Dumbledore's wards would allow, poised with her Quick-Quotes Quill at the ready, although she hadn't spotted him yet.
"Are you going to use your cloak?" Draco asked. "She knows I came out here, but you could still slip by unnoticed."
"No," Harry said thoughtfully. "I don't think I am."
Draco looked at him in surprise, as Harry had been going out of his way to avoid pretty much everyone.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
Harry gave a decisive nod and quickened his steps slightly, Draco keeping pace. As they neared the doors, Skeeter saw him and immediately launched into an avalanche of questions; she'd obviously been saving them up since the end of the battle.
Well. If she wanted something to write about, Harry would give her something to write about.
And with that thought he stopped and turned to face Draco.
"Harry?" Draco said uncertainly, looking at him with wide grey eyes.
Harry didn't say anything back, ignoring Skeeter's insistent questions and the camera that had just gone off behind her. Instead, he reached up, slid a hand along Draco's jaw until his fingers were tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, and pulled Draco forward into a kiss.
Draco froze for a moment, hands clutching Harry's arms in shock. Harry didn't mind - he'd figured that was coming - and instead ran the tip of his tongue along Draco's bottom lip. Draco made a strangled sound in his throat, and then suddenly Harry was crushed against his body and Draco was returning the kiss full force.
The camera flashes were blinding, and Rita's shrieking was ear-splitting, but as Draco's taste flooded Harry's mouth, Harry found he didn't care about any of it. He would no doubt be front page news - Skeeter was sure to get her headline! - and he couldn't help but grin at the fact that he'd dictated the terms on what it would say; no Quick-Quotes Quill was necessary.
Suddenly Rita fell silent, and Harry broke the kiss with a laugh, leaning his forehead against Draco's, who had brought one hand to the back of Harry's neck and was cradling his head gently. He turned and looked toward the school, noticing that Hermione was on the steps with her wand out, and she was grinning broadly. Ron was beside her, and he, too, looked quite amused at the spectacle. Harry could see that Skeeter's mouth was still moving; Hermione had apparently silenced her.
"Oh, Harry," Hermione said, amused. "I do believe you're going to be front page news."
"So what else is new?" he asked her with a grin, and another camera flash went off.
She shook her head at him fondly, tucking away her wand and motioning for him and Draco to come into the school. Harry gave Draco one last kiss, then took his hand and pulled him inside.
As he looked around at the stunned members of the media, he couldn't help but grin.
All was well.
[end]
***
For those interested, here is the meaning behind the flowers that Harry gives to Pansy and Tracey:
Snowdrop means hope and consolation
Yarrow signifies healing
Sweet briar (also called Eglantine Rose) indicates a wound to heal
A couple of hours later, Draco stretched out on his bed in his room, linking his fingers behind his head and staring up at the canopy unseeingly.
Professor Snape had been located, still in the hospital wing, with Madam Pomfrey shaking her wand threateningly at him. Once Pansy had told him about Tracey, however, he'd grudgingly allowed her to heal him up, complaining all the while, and then followed Draco and Pansy down to the Slytherin common room. He'd taken the charm off the door of the seventh year girls' dorm, and, as soon as Blaise had entered, softly calling out Tracey's name, she'd thrown back the curtains of her bed and launched herself at him, clutching onto him and sobbing into his shoulder. Draco had left shortly after that, with Pansy - eyes again filling with tears - following him, unable to bear her sadness.
Hot chocolate had been procured from a house elf, and Draco had shared a cup with Pansy in her room before heading across the hall to his own, where he was now alone once again with his thoughts. The letter from his father had been deposited in his desk drawer, because if he had it in his hands he was going to continue to read it, over and over, although by now he had memorized the whole damn thing. He wanted to talk to his mother about it, but wasn't sure what to say. He kept thinking maybe he was missing something, that there was more to Lucius' words than what he'd actually written, but was afraid of being disappointed; his father had already let him down too often in the past.
Then there was the whole mess with Theo. It hadn't surprised Draco to learn that Theo had played a role in bringing down the wards that allowed the Death Eaters to Apparate right onto the Hogwarts' grounds. He and Pansy had been right to be suspicious of his strange behavior; he'd apparently gotten away from Flitwick when the tiny professor had taken those students who had decided they didn't want to fight in the battle to the Charms classroom, sneaking away with the help of a disillusionment charm. He'd opened up a passageway between the school and Honeydukes, and, with a Death Eater feeding him the spells to use - the charm they'd placed on the school made it impossible for anyone who hadn't been charmed to enter the school itself - had set about bringing down the wards. Theo had also been the one responsible for placing the initial heat spell on the school. Draco wondered if he'd been acting of his own free will or if he'd been a victim of an Imperius curse; Theo had never really been all that vocal about the Dark Lord in the past, although Draco knew for a fact that Mr. Nott was definitely a Death Eater. Nonetheless, Theo had been removed from the school and was awaiting trial by the Ministry, along with all the other surviving Death Eaters that had been rounded up post-battle.
His musing was interrupted by a very soft, barely-there knock on his door. In fact, if it hadn't been completely silent in his room he probably wouldn't have even heard it. Draco slid to his feet, briefly wondering who it was, and opened the door. He was greeted with the sight of an empty corridor.
"Hello, invisible friend," he murmured, feeling something silky brush past him, and hearing a huff of laughter. As he closed the door, Harry appeared in front of him, hair standing on end from his cloak.
Draco leaned back against the door, crossing his arms over his chest, and simply stared at Harry, drinking in the sight of him. Harry seemed content to simply watch Draco watch him. He folded his cloak and draped it over an arm, all the while keeping his eyes on Draco's face.
"How are you feeling?" Draco finally asked, reaching out for the cloak and carefully laying it over the back of his desk chair.
"My head hurts again," Harry answered honestly, "but I'm otherwise okay."
Draco moved past Harry and opened the drawer of his bedside table, rummaging around until he found a small bottle of pain-relieving potion. He uncorked it and handed it to Harry, who gave him a small smile.
"Cheers," Harry murmured, downing the potion in one go, and sighing in relief as it started working. He handed the bottle back to Draco, who tossed it onto his desk.
Even though he and Harry had spent numerous hours alone together, this time he felt slightly awkward. It didn't take a genius to figure out why, of course; not only had things changed in regard to the war, but there was also that pesky declaration of love that Draco had blurted out in front of Voldemort, and the matter of his Patronus changing shape. Neither of which they'd exactly gotten a chance to talk about, what with having to kill said Dark Lord and the subsequent bouts of unconsciousness, and then being surrounded by people Draco wasn't about to bare his soul to. It was difficult enough to talk about his feelings with Harry, and Draco was in love with him.
"So…." Harry began, rubbing his arms with his hands.
Draco gave a short laugh, grabbing his wand and flicking it toward the fireplace to get a fire going, then casting silencing and locking charms on his door. Leave it to Harry to try to mow right on through the strangeness between them.
"I think we need tea," Draco announced. Harry blinked in surprise.
"Okay," he said uncertainly, fingers clenching in his sleeves. "I can ask Dobby."
Draco gave a nod and watched as Dobby was summoned, bobbing up and down in excitement to be helping "Mr. Harry Potter, sir". He disappeared and almost instantly reappeared with tea, two cups and a plate of biscuits, which he set up on Draco's bedside table before disappearing again.
Harry looked at him, apprehension apparent in his gaze, and Draco bit back a sigh. They were going to have to sort this out, and soon, before Harry got the wrong idea about Draco's thoughts.
"Sit, Harry," Draco said, motioning toward his bed. Harry sat on the edge, fingers toying with the edge of his dressing gown until Draco reached out and laid his hands over the nervous fingers.
Harry looked up at him, wide-eyed, and before Draco consciously thought about it, he'd leaned forward and brought them together in a kiss. As soon as their lips met, Harry's mouth opened, allowing Draco's tongue access. They kissed languidly for a long time, Draco realizing that he hadn't been able to kiss Harry and have the kiss returned since before the battle. Draco leaned further into Harry, dropping him onto his back, with Draco balancing his weight on his knees and forearms over him. After a moment, Draco broke the kiss, leaning back slightly so he could look into Harry's eyes.
Harry was slightly confused, Draco could tell, no doubt trying to figure out exactly what was going on. Draco rolled off him, sitting next to the prone figure, but keeping one hand on Harry's chest, where he could feel the thump of his heartbeat. Harry raised himself up on an elbow and turned his head to keep eye contact.
"Draco?" he said questioningly, the uncertainty clear in his voice. Harry brought his other hand up to rest lightly on the back of the hand on his chest.
"I'm sorry, Harry," Draco said. "I know I'm acting strangely."
Harry didn't say anything, but sat up further, the movement dislodging Draco's hand. "Is this about the prophecy?"
Draco gave a slight laugh. "No. I don't care about the prophecy, Harry. That part of your life is over, and doesn't matter anymore."
"Then what?" Harry asked, folding his legs under him and turning to fully face Draco.
Draco reached for one of the teacups and took a quick swallow, nearly scalding his mouth on the hot liquid. He tried to figure out how to best start this conversation, but decided he'd probably just better come out and say what he meant, or Harry was likely to misunderstand; he had a feeling there hadn't been too many people who had told Harry that they'd cared for him.
In the end he decided to just be blunt, and grabbing the proverbial bull by the horns, he said, "I love you," feeling his face flush but ignoring it. Instead he focused on the way Harry went very still, and his eyes went very wide.
"You…." Harry seemed overwhelmed. "I … you'd said so, you know, to Voldemort, and I saw your Patronus, but I…." He trailed off, bringing his hands up and burying his face in them, fingers dislodging his glasses. He sat that way for a moment, and Draco saw that he was shaking slightly.
"Harry?" he asked in concern, setting the cup down and reaching out to pull Harry's hands away from his face. "Are you okay?" Draco tried to fight back the dread that sprung up at Harry's reaction; maybe he'd said something wrong. Maybe Harry didn't feel the same, and didn't know how to tell him.
Harry allowed him to take his hands, which Draco gripped tightly. When Harry opened his eyes, Draco could see tears, which Harry was trying to blink away. Harry reached forward, wrapping his fingers into the front of Draco's jumper, Draco shifting his grasp to Harry's wrists.
"Draco," Harry finally said, voice thick with emotion.
"You don't have to say it back," Draco hurriedly interrupted, wanting to end this discussion before Harry could say he didn't feel the same. "I just wanted you to know. I mean, I guess you knew already, what with my Patronus, like you said - and I can't believe Pansy actually thought it was me, can you? - but I'd never actually said the words to you, you know? I didn't think my weird revelation to my father and Voldemort really sufficed, seeing as they were basically your two worst enemies, so I just-"
"Draco," Harry said again, thankfully putting an end to Draco's ridiculous ramble. "Draco, I love you, too."
And oh, if he hadn't already been quiet, those words would have done it. Draco's hands gripped Harry's wrists tightly, a sense of wonder filling him.
"Yeah?" he managed to get out; it was hard to speak when it felt like his heart was strangling him.
Harry gave him a heartbreakingly sweet smile. "Yeah."
Draco looked at Harry for a long moment - he vaguely realized that they sure seemed to be doing a lot of staring at each other - and then leaned forward and kissed him again.
The kiss was sweet and tender. As Draco pulled away slightly he could feel Harry's smile, and knew there was an answering one on his own face. Harry slid his hands around Draco's back, pulling him closer, and brought his forehead down to rest on Draco's shoulder. Draco obligingly wrapped Harry up in a hug.
It was quiet for a long moment, which was broken when Harry yawned against Draco's shoulder.
"Are you going back to your dorm?" Draco asked.
Harry shook his head and tightened his grip. "No, I want to stay here," he murmured.
"Good, because I want you to stay here. Budge up, and I'll pull the covers down."
Harry disentangled himself with a sigh, standing slowly. Draco stood as well and pulled the blankets down. Harry took off his dressing gown, dropping it in a pile at his feet, and placed his glasses on the bedside table along with his wand. As soon as Draco had the covers settled, Harry crawled under the sheets. Draco scooped the robe off the floor and folded it, setting it over his desk chair alongside Harry's invisibility cloak.
He quickly changed into pajamas and doused the lights, climbing into bed next to Harry and lying on his back. Harry immediately curled up next to him and pressed against his side. Draco brought a hand up to card through Harry's hair, the other arm wrapping around his shoulders.
"I'm surprised you got away from your friends," Draco said quietly. "I wouldn't have thought they'd let you out of their sight."
"I told them I was tired and going to bed," replied Harry. "I pulled my curtains and slipped out of the Tower as someone was coming in. I’m sure they checked on me and found me gone, but I left the map on my bed so they'd be able to see where I was."
Draco could tell Harry was on the verge of falling asleep; his voice was drifting in and out, sounding soft and sleepy.
He pressed a kiss to Harry's forehead, right over his scar. Harry gave another yawn and snuggled closer.
"Sorry," Harry said sleepily. "I don't know why I'm so tired, seeing as I've done little else but sleep all day."
"Killing Dark Lords is a perfectly valid reason for being tired," Draco said gently. "Go to sleep, Harry. We can talk more tomorrow."
Harry made a vague sound of agreement, but needed no more prompting; his breathing turned deep and even within minutes, and Draco smiled into the darkness. His last conscious thought before he followed Harry into sleep was that he could definitely get used to falling asleep with Harry tucked against him.
***
Harry stood in the first row of the Gryffindor Quidditch stands, looking out over the pitch. The day had dawned bright and sunny, with barely a cloud in the sky. There was just a hint of chill in the air; enough to warrant a cloak but not quite cold enough for scarves and mittens. Harry crossed his arms and settled them on the top of the wall in front of him.
He had needed some time to himself, to think about everything that had happened the past week. It was hard to believe that only that much time had passed; surely when your whole life changed it should take longer than a few days.
The mass funeral had been held the previous day; there had been so many people milling around the Hogwarts' grounds that Harry was positive the entire wizarding world was in attendance. He'd been decked out in brand new black formal dress robes and forced to endure the flashes of what felt like hundreds of cameras. He had attempted to ignore them, as well as the curious stares and pointing fingers of pretty much everyone in the crowd aside from his fellow students; they had thankfully gotten their staring and whispering out of the way during the previous day's mealtimes.
Harry had desperately wanted to sit with Draco during the funeral, but in the end both boys had decided that Harry would be getting enough attention as it was. Draco hadn't wanted to make it worse for Harry, and Harry hadn't wanted the press to run wild with speculation about Draco, especially since his father had managed to escape capture. The Daily Prophet was full of headlines regarding the search for escaped Death Eaters, with Lucius Malfoy getting much of their focus.
So instead Harry had sat stiffly between Ron and Hermione, feeling thousands of pairs of eyes looking at him from every angle. Sirius had done his best to keep the reporters at bay - there might have been a number of lowly-intoned threats growled in Rita Skeeter's general direction - but he couldn't protect Harry from the camera flashes, or the whispers, or the fear and awe on everyone's faces. Ron and Hermione had stayed close to him, but all that that had accomplished was them getting their pictures taken every other second as well.
The funeral had taken nearly an entire day with all the people who had wanted to get up and speak. It had started promptly at nine in the morning, and aside from a lunch break (courtesy of the Hogwarts' house elves), had continued on late into the evening when fairy lights had had to be conjured to light the grounds. Harry had had to content himself with short glances in Draco's direction (which were usually immediately followed by Draco looking in Harry's direction, much to Hermione's amusement), and an impromptu snog session in the broom cupboard off of the entrance hall during lunch that had left Harry slightly dusty and smelling a bit like lemon floor cleaner, which Draco had accidentally spilled in the dark.
Listening to everyone get up and speak at the funeral had been heart-wrenching. Harry didn't even know a lot of the people who had been killed, but listening to their loved ones - parents, siblings, spouses, children - had been awful. While he knew logically that there wasn't really anything he could have done to prevent their deaths, there was a part of him that still felt guilty; maybe if he'd just been able to kill Voldemort sooner, so many wouldn't have been lost.
Harry hadn't spoken, although he was thinking now that he perhaps should have, even though he hadn't felt up to it ; while he felt sadness for those who had lost family members, he had been incredibly lucky in that everyone he cared about had survived. But the truth was that he'd done all the talking he was interested in doing when he'd given his little speech prior to the battle, and again when he'd finally been prodded by his housemates into recounting how he'd killed Voldemort (leaving out Draco's proclamation, of course). They had all sat perfectly still and silent, completely spellbound by his tale.
He knew he would eventually have to speak to the media, but was hoping he'd be able to put it off just a little longer. He wasn't looking forward to the conversation, and only hoped he'd be able to pick the time and place.
Harry had wanted to do something special for Pansy and Tracey; while he was not what you would call friends with either of them, he'd spent the entire last year working closely with them and wanted to pay his respects and let them know he was thinking about them. He'd asked Hermione for help, and the two of them had researched flowers and their meanings. He had wanted to convey his sorrow for their suffering and also wanted to wish them well. After much deliberation (which was hampered by the small time frame they'd had to work with), he finally settled on a small bouquet of snowdrops, sweet briar and yarrow, with a white ribbon wrapped around their stems.
When he had presented the flowers to Pansy, she took one look at them and promptly launched herself at Harry, nearly strangling him with the force of her hug. He'd returned it carefully, well aware that she was fighting tears and not wanting to do anything to push her over the edge. The look Draco had given him was so full of emotion that he'd found it difficult to swallow. Pansy had pulled back, and in a slightly tremulous voice, had said, "Thank you, Harry." It had been the first time she had ever called him by his given name.
Tracey had been a bit more reserved, but the gratitude on her face had spoken volumes. She'd taken the flowers from him gently and lightly touched one of the blossoms with the tip of her finger. When she'd thanked him - quietly but heartfelt - she'd called him Potter, but she'd given him a small smile that more than made up for it. Blaise had given him a solemn nod.
Both girls had held the flowers throughout the funeral, and Harry had been glad he could help them feel even a little bit better. By the time it was all said and done, however, Harry never wanted to see another person - aside from his immediate circle, of course - again in his life, or at the very least, the imminent future. That was why he was now standing alone in the Quidditch stands, watching a bird of some kind or other glide across the sky before disappearing into the trees of the forest.
Harry shifted position slightly, pulling his cloak more tightly around him. He was surprised no one had come looking for him; he had disappeared - literally - right after breakfast, using his invisibility cloak to sneak past the few dedicated reporters that were still lurking around the front steps. Dumbledore had set some wards so that they were unable to enter the castle itself, but he seemed unable to make them leave entirely.
Hogwarts was preparing for the students' departure, as it had been decided that expecting everyone to be focused on their classes and upcoming exams was too much to ask, especially since many of them had suffered losses in the battle. The Ministry was making plans to hold summer classes so fifth and seventh years could finish out their current term and take their O.W.Ls and N.E.W.T.s, respectively. Everyone else would simply forego their exams and efforts would be made to catch them up next year.
Harry slung an elbow up on the wall and rested his chin in his hand. It was hard to believe that he was leaving Hogwarts for the last time; the summer classes would be held at the Ministry itself, rather than the school, in order to allow everyone to be with their families. He had a lot to look forward to this summer; not only would he not have to return to the Dursleys (or even see them again if he didn't want to), but Sirius had purchased a nice house in the country where he and Narcissa were planning on living, and had already told Harry that a room had been reserved just for him. But Hogwarts had been his first real home, the first place he'd truly been happy. It was sad to think that he would never again walk its corridors or wind his way down the grand staircase as a student. There would be no more Gryffindor versus Slytherin Quidditch matches in which he would grab the Snitch right out from under Draco's nose, no more attempts to win the House Cup, and no more celebrations in the Gryffindor common room. That part of his life was nearly over, and Harry wasn't sure how to feel about it.
Of course, moving on wasn't all bad. Draco also had a room in Sirius and Narcissa's new home, although Harry sort of thought that was pointless, as he had no intention of them sleeping apart if they were both under the same roof.
Draco had told Harry about the letter he'd received from his father. The next day he had received a whole bundle of paperwork from Gringott's detailing the transfer of the Malfoy bank accounts and assets over to Draco. Harry could tell that Draco was completely overwhelmed by it all; last night he'd simply held him as Draco rambled on about everything in his head, continuing to talk until the wee hours of the morning, when he'd finally fallen into an exhausted sleep mid-sentence.
What Harry had been able to pick up from Draco's run of words was that, while he was ashamed of the choices his father had made, he was still proud to be a Malfoy, still proud of his heritage. Malfoy Manor was his birthright, along with everything inside its walls. That being said, Draco wasn't ready to live there; without his parents, the Manor was too big, too lonely and too empty. He had a vague plan to go through it, room by room, and rid it of anything and everything related to Voldemort. Most of those items had been disposed of previously, as Lucius had never quite managed to convince everyone at the Ministry that he was a law-abiding citizen, and hadn't wanted to keep anything that might cause a problem should the Ministry decide to try another raid. Anything that wasn't directly related to Voldemort, even if it was perhaps a bit grey in nature, was being kept, though, as Draco had a natural curiosity for learning and figured some things were better off in his hands than anyone else's.
He was pulled from his musing when someone called his name, and he looked down toward the pitch to find Draco staring up at him, one hand shielding his eyes from the sun. He had a piece of parchment clutched in one hand, which Harry assumed to be the Marauder's Map.
"Harry, come down!" Draco called up to him. "Everyone's nearly ready to leave!"
"All right!" Harry called back, and, after another look around the pitch, headed toward the stairs of the stands and down to the ground. Draco was waiting for him at the exit from the stands, and as Harry appeared, he handed him back the map.
"Hermione gave it to me," he said, wrapping one arm around Harry's shoulders and pulling him close to place a kiss on his temple. Harry gave a nod in response, leaning closer to Draco, enjoying his warmth as he tucked the map into his cloak pocket.
"You're cold," Draco murmured, turning Harry to face him fully and wrapping his arms around him. "How long have you been out here?"
"Since after breakfast," Harry said, tucking his face into the side of Draco's neck. "I needed some time to think."
Draco made a vague noise of agreement and held him for a moment, before reluctantly releasing him and stepping back. "We have to go. Weasley brought your trunk down for you, although I think Sirius is just going to take it. He already has mine."
Harry nodded and tucked his hands into his pockets, pulling his cloak around him. "Is Skeeter still hanging about the front doors?"
Draco gave a slight smile. "Yes. And she tried to ask me all sorts of questions about my father, which I gave vague answers to. I have no idea where he is, but of course no one believes me." His voice had gone slightly bitter.
"I believe you," Harry said with a smile, which melted Draco's cynicism. He gave Harry a half smile.
"You aren't exactly one of the people I have to convince," he said dryly, slinging an arm around Harry's shoulders as they made their way back to the castle.
When they got within view of the doors, Draco dropped his arm and moved away from Harry slightly, knowing where there were reporters, there were cameras. Harry could pick out Rita Skeeter's lime green robes from where he was standing; she was as close to the school as Dumbledore's wards would allow, poised with her Quick-Quotes Quill at the ready, although she hadn't spotted him yet.
"Are you going to use your cloak?" Draco asked. "She knows I came out here, but you could still slip by unnoticed."
"No," Harry said thoughtfully. "I don't think I am."
Draco looked at him in surprise, as Harry had been going out of his way to avoid pretty much everyone.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
Harry gave a decisive nod and quickened his steps slightly, Draco keeping pace. As they neared the doors, Skeeter saw him and immediately launched into an avalanche of questions; she'd obviously been saving them up since the end of the battle.
Well. If she wanted something to write about, Harry would give her something to write about.
And with that thought he stopped and turned to face Draco.
"Harry?" Draco said uncertainly, looking at him with wide grey eyes.
Harry didn't say anything back, ignoring Skeeter's insistent questions and the camera that had just gone off behind her. Instead, he reached up, slid a hand along Draco's jaw until his fingers were tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, and pulled Draco forward into a kiss.
Draco froze for a moment, hands clutching Harry's arms in shock. Harry didn't mind - he'd figured that was coming - and instead ran the tip of his tongue along Draco's bottom lip. Draco made a strangled sound in his throat, and then suddenly Harry was crushed against his body and Draco was returning the kiss full force.
The camera flashes were blinding, and Rita's shrieking was ear-splitting, but as Draco's taste flooded Harry's mouth, Harry found he didn't care about any of it. He would no doubt be front page news - Skeeter was sure to get her headline! - and he couldn't help but grin at the fact that he'd dictated the terms on what it would say; no Quick-Quotes Quill was necessary.
Suddenly Rita fell silent, and Harry broke the kiss with a laugh, leaning his forehead against Draco's, who had brought one hand to the back of Harry's neck and was cradling his head gently. He turned and looked toward the school, noticing that Hermione was on the steps with her wand out, and she was grinning broadly. Ron was beside her, and he, too, looked quite amused at the spectacle. Harry could see that Skeeter's mouth was still moving; Hermione had apparently silenced her.
"Oh, Harry," Hermione said, amused. "I do believe you're going to be front page news."
"So what else is new?" he asked her with a grin, and another camera flash went off.
She shook her head at him fondly, tucking away her wand and motioning for him and Draco to come into the school. Harry gave Draco one last kiss, then took his hand and pulled him inside.
As he looked around at the stunned members of the media, he couldn't help but grin.
All was well.
[end]
***
For those interested, here is the meaning behind the flowers that Harry gives to Pansy and Tracey:
Snowdrop means hope and consolation
Yarrow signifies healing
Sweet briar (also called Eglantine Rose) indicates a wound to heal