The last hurrah for Draco`s birthday :)
Dear capitu, I promised a last little piece for Dracos birthday bash and here it is.
prompt: Dracos first birthday after the battle.
Title: A gift more precious than diamonds
Rating: PG
Summary: Draco feels depressed on this birthday, but someone makes him a special gift. One that is more precious than diamonds.
Words: 2181
Notes: This is preslash if you squint, it does feel a bit melancholy.
Disclaimer: The boys are not mine, I only play with them.
The air still reeks of dark magic. It permeates the very stone of Malfoy Manor and Draco wishes for nothing more than to be far away, but they are bound to the land until the trials are over, and who knows if he might not wish to be back here in these gloomy walls once his fate has been determined.
The battle has only been over for a month though and thus nobody has deigned them important enough for a speedy trial.
The morning of his eighteenth birthday dawns bright and sunny as if to mock him. He remembers the last time he was excited about his birthday, it is so hard to believe that time is three years gone already.
There was no celebration on his 16th birthday, he only lay shaking in front of the Dark Lord and got his Mark burned into his skin, which felt still tender 3 months later when Draco returned to school. Instead of presents he received a task meant to punish and destroy his family. He wouldn't have been able to eat anything either anyway. Everything tasted like ashes already, a taste he still has in his mouth most of the time.
Last year the Dark Lord had already taken residence in his home and he was hiding with Snape, hoping against hope that he would not be punished too hard for only completing the task half, and that it all would turn out alright in the end. But growing up happened fast and he realized that real monsters don´t need three heads or fangs, real monsters cover themselves under the disguise of power and esteem and only reveal their ugly faces once they have ensnared you far too deep.
So why is it sunny on his eighteenth birthday? The year will probably bring only more pain and more punishment, now that the Malfoys are officially on the losing side. Draco has no illusions about the fact that the Wizengamot will be out for blood. His father has made too many enemies and he himself has not been able to make friends with the right kind of wizards either.
Isn't it a bitter irony that his own words, spoken so carelessly and with the conviction of eleven years are now back to bite him?
With these bleak thoughts he approaches the kitchen, the family has taken to eating there. Nobody, not even his father, can bear eating at the large dinner table anymore. The remaining house elves have tried to make something that resembles the birthday breakfasts of days long gone and Draco forces a tired smile for them and a “Thank you!”, gone are the days when he thought them stupid servile creatures. Dobby has proven to be smarter and more loyal than most grown men that he has encountered in his life.
All of a sudden he feels old and grey and still the infernal sun is shining as if there hadn't just a war happened, as if not everything he ever believed in has been torn to pieces.
Mother tries to be cheerful and gives him a book as a gift. Draco smiles at her, a bit more genuine but still he wonders why they even bother. His birthday has lost the glamour of his childhood years and nothing will bring back the innocence of these days.
His father embraces him in a rare show of affection and although he would never admit it out loud, this is one of the more precious gifts he has ever received. If somebody would force Draco to find one good thing about this entire stupid war it is that in the end it has brought his father to a more human level, and that they savour the few precious days they have left before Lucius will probably go to Azkaban for a lengthy stay.
He excuses himself a while later and strolls through the gardens, at least here the air doesn't stink of death and dark magic. The Dark Lord didn´t deem the gardens important enough. Just like he deemed so many people not important enough.
Draco sits in a spot next to the small pond, where he used to play with Zabini, Greg and Goyle. The reminder brings an unwelcome sting to his eyes. Greg deserved a better friend than him, and now he will never again celebrate another birthday.
The peacocks cry out and Draco is reminded of the old myth, the peacock cries when it discovers its own ugly feet and is devastated by its own imperfection just like mankind cries out at the discovery of its sins.
If that were true, he wouldn't stop crying his eyes out, Draco thinks.
He doesn't know how long he has been sitting in his spot, when the house elf approaches him cautiously. “Mr Draco is having a visitor he is. Should Tippy let the wizard in?”
“Who is it Tippy? Did they say their name?”
“It is being Mr Harry Potter, Mr Draco.” Tippy answers. Draco feels uneasy, but then again, it is his birthday, maybe it is karmas idea of a cosmic joke to have the hero of the wizarding world off him on his eighteenth birthday, but then again he hasn't amassed too many good deeds in his favour.
“Let him in and would you please show him to where I am?”
Tippy bowed and disappears with a pop. Draco turns back to the pond, savoring the last peaceful moments.
Footsteps crunching on the gravel behind him announce Potters arrival . He turns and sees the man that had been his rival in school come up. His first thought is that Potter looks old, far older than he has any business to look, seeing as he is a month younger than him.
The posture is slumped as if he is tired of standing up and there are wrinkles at the corners of his mouth, as if Potter doesn't smile much anymore. Draco thought he could be quiet and just allow Potter his piece, but the words are out of his mouth before he can even think about them.
“God, Potter you look like shit!” Potter starts a bit at that, before a reluctant smile steals over his face as if it is not quite sure what to do there. He sounds vaguely amused as he replies, “well Malfoy, it isn't as if you look so much better. But good day to you too.”
Draco twitches his shoulder and turns his back towards Potter, staring out over the water again. Potter hesitates for a second or so, before he settles down next to Draco.
“Do you think it is wise to turn your back to me? You don't have a wand.”
Draco can't help it, he snorts. Potter looks surprised at that.
“Really Potter, do you think anybody would give a rats arse about what you do to me? If you decide to off me here and now, most of the people would probably simply say -’well done’. I count on the fact that you are too much of a Gryffindor to do that, and that you would have the decency to not stab me in the back. I consider it your birthday present to me.”
Potter looks startled at that again, and it occurs to Draco that he probably didn't know about that. Oh well it doesn't matter much anyway.
“Would you like a drink?” Draco asks before Potter can start to bumble about again. Just for a while, he wants to pretend, that he and Potter are nothing but old classmates and that having him here in the Malfoy garden is nothing special.
Potter nods, and he looks at Draco as if he is a particularly difficult puzzle that he would like to solve.
“Tippy?” Draco calls, and the little elf pops up.
“What can Tippy do for Mr Draco and his guest?”
“Can you bring us tea please? And maybe some cake. Thank you!”
Tippy bows and disappears with another pop. Potter look at him as if he has grown horns and then he proves that he is Potter, just by asking the most stupid question he could come up with.
“Which curse did you want to cast, when I cast the Sectumsempra at you?” seeing as there is a wand pressed into his jugular all of a sudden, Draco is more than startled, but he gets the word out.
“Crucio, not one of my brighter moments.”
The wand disappears and Potter looks apologetic.
“Sorry, but that was too strange seeing you so friendly with a house elf. I needed to be sure you weren't polyjuiced.”
Draco just shakes his head. “And they call Slytherins paranoid. I just hope you don't need to test the cake for poison, Tippy would be seriously offended.”
Potter shakes his head and takes the offered cake. Draco watches him eat and for a while they sit in companionable silence. Potter puts down the fork and licks his lips. Draco is surprised by the stab of arousal that shots through him at the sight of that pink tongue, and turns his face away.
“I never said happy birthday did I?” Potter says and Draco can't help it but rolls his eyes at the inane comment.
“I don't think it matters much. The last few birthdays already sucked so why should I celebrate this one? I don't think I should anyhow when so many people will never again celebrate theirs.” Draco trails of speaking out what has only been plaguing his mind. A warm hand covers his knee and he looks up, more than a little surprised. Potter - or should it be Harry if he takes such liberties with him, looks at him with these eyes - green and earnest and somewhat cute if he allows himself the thought in the privacy of his mind.
“I think we need to celebrate life, especially for those who won't get to celebrate theirs. I don't think they would want us to mourn forever and well, I know with all the funerals I have been to within the last 4 weeks, I need to celebrate life or I will go crazy.”
Draco swallows around the knot that seems to have lodged inside of his throat.
“Thanks.” He doesn't get any more word out, but Harry squeezes his knee showing he understands.
“I really don't want to be rude, but why did you come by? Did they sent you to make sure that I didn´t run away? I mean they bound us to the land until the trials are through, and then I´ll probably end up in Azkaban.”
Harry shakes his head. “I came by to tell you that I have spoken with Kingsley and Professor McGonagall. We are going to reopen Hogwarts and if you are willing to help with the reparations then I am authorized to hand your wand back to you. You won't be tried like a real deatheather, because enough witnesses came forward to prove you were under duress and that you treated the prisoners as kindly as possible. I could provide the proof that you refused to identify me, even though you knew who I was.”
“Why?”
Harry flushes. “Because we know each other. Who will make sure my ego doesn't inflate overly much now that Severus is gone, if not you?” There is a weird emphasis on the word “know” and Draco can tell he is only half joking and a warm feeling curls inside of him. But he needs to make sure.
“So you volunteered to watch me? Even though I am definitely the wrong sort?”
Harry snorts. “You should definitely know by now, that I have my own mind, about the right or the wrong sort. I did not fight a war so that people can now go on another witch hunt. So are you in?”
Draco nods and a careful smile steals onto his face. He finds it mirrored n Harrys face and impulsively he puts out his hand.
“Draco Malfoy, nice to meet you.”
Harrys hand is warm as it curls around his. “Harry Potter, nice to meet you too. I wish you a happy birthday and hopefully many happy returns. I believe this here belongs to you.”
He pulls the old hawthorn wand from the holster and hands it to Draco. It feels warm, comfortable and Draco can finally identify the strange feeling in his stomach.
It is hope.
And while this birthday might not be the best one he ever had, it is not the worst one either. It simply is the beginning of a new year and for the first time Draco hopes that many more will follow as he sits in comfortable silence with Harry and watches the sun reflect on the water.
It doesn't mean that the house is free of the dark magical taint, it doesn't mean that his father won't go to Azkaban for the crimes he has committed.
But it means more to Draco than he can say at the moment - it is a gift more precious than diamonds.
prompt: Dracos first birthday after the battle.
Title: A gift more precious than diamonds
Rating: PG
Summary: Draco feels depressed on this birthday, but someone makes him a special gift. One that is more precious than diamonds.
Words: 2181
Notes: This is preslash if you squint, it does feel a bit melancholy.
Disclaimer: The boys are not mine, I only play with them.
The air still reeks of dark magic. It permeates the very stone of Malfoy Manor and Draco wishes for nothing more than to be far away, but they are bound to the land until the trials are over, and who knows if he might not wish to be back here in these gloomy walls once his fate has been determined.
The battle has only been over for a month though and thus nobody has deigned them important enough for a speedy trial.
The morning of his eighteenth birthday dawns bright and sunny as if to mock him. He remembers the last time he was excited about his birthday, it is so hard to believe that time is three years gone already.
There was no celebration on his 16th birthday, he only lay shaking in front of the Dark Lord and got his Mark burned into his skin, which felt still tender 3 months later when Draco returned to school. Instead of presents he received a task meant to punish and destroy his family. He wouldn't have been able to eat anything either anyway. Everything tasted like ashes already, a taste he still has in his mouth most of the time.
Last year the Dark Lord had already taken residence in his home and he was hiding with Snape, hoping against hope that he would not be punished too hard for only completing the task half, and that it all would turn out alright in the end. But growing up happened fast and he realized that real monsters don´t need three heads or fangs, real monsters cover themselves under the disguise of power and esteem and only reveal their ugly faces once they have ensnared you far too deep.
So why is it sunny on his eighteenth birthday? The year will probably bring only more pain and more punishment, now that the Malfoys are officially on the losing side. Draco has no illusions about the fact that the Wizengamot will be out for blood. His father has made too many enemies and he himself has not been able to make friends with the right kind of wizards either.
Isn't it a bitter irony that his own words, spoken so carelessly and with the conviction of eleven years are now back to bite him?
With these bleak thoughts he approaches the kitchen, the family has taken to eating there. Nobody, not even his father, can bear eating at the large dinner table anymore. The remaining house elves have tried to make something that resembles the birthday breakfasts of days long gone and Draco forces a tired smile for them and a “Thank you!”, gone are the days when he thought them stupid servile creatures. Dobby has proven to be smarter and more loyal than most grown men that he has encountered in his life.
All of a sudden he feels old and grey and still the infernal sun is shining as if there hadn't just a war happened, as if not everything he ever believed in has been torn to pieces.
Mother tries to be cheerful and gives him a book as a gift. Draco smiles at her, a bit more genuine but still he wonders why they even bother. His birthday has lost the glamour of his childhood years and nothing will bring back the innocence of these days.
His father embraces him in a rare show of affection and although he would never admit it out loud, this is one of the more precious gifts he has ever received. If somebody would force Draco to find one good thing about this entire stupid war it is that in the end it has brought his father to a more human level, and that they savour the few precious days they have left before Lucius will probably go to Azkaban for a lengthy stay.
He excuses himself a while later and strolls through the gardens, at least here the air doesn't stink of death and dark magic. The Dark Lord didn´t deem the gardens important enough. Just like he deemed so many people not important enough.
Draco sits in a spot next to the small pond, where he used to play with Zabini, Greg and Goyle. The reminder brings an unwelcome sting to his eyes. Greg deserved a better friend than him, and now he will never again celebrate another birthday.
The peacocks cry out and Draco is reminded of the old myth, the peacock cries when it discovers its own ugly feet and is devastated by its own imperfection just like mankind cries out at the discovery of its sins.
If that were true, he wouldn't stop crying his eyes out, Draco thinks.
He doesn't know how long he has been sitting in his spot, when the house elf approaches him cautiously. “Mr Draco is having a visitor he is. Should Tippy let the wizard in?”
“Who is it Tippy? Did they say their name?”
“It is being Mr Harry Potter, Mr Draco.” Tippy answers. Draco feels uneasy, but then again, it is his birthday, maybe it is karmas idea of a cosmic joke to have the hero of the wizarding world off him on his eighteenth birthday, but then again he hasn't amassed too many good deeds in his favour.
“Let him in and would you please show him to where I am?”
Tippy bowed and disappears with a pop. Draco turns back to the pond, savoring the last peaceful moments.
Footsteps crunching on the gravel behind him announce Potters arrival . He turns and sees the man that had been his rival in school come up. His first thought is that Potter looks old, far older than he has any business to look, seeing as he is a month younger than him.
The posture is slumped as if he is tired of standing up and there are wrinkles at the corners of his mouth, as if Potter doesn't smile much anymore. Draco thought he could be quiet and just allow Potter his piece, but the words are out of his mouth before he can even think about them.
“God, Potter you look like shit!” Potter starts a bit at that, before a reluctant smile steals over his face as if it is not quite sure what to do there. He sounds vaguely amused as he replies, “well Malfoy, it isn't as if you look so much better. But good day to you too.”
Draco twitches his shoulder and turns his back towards Potter, staring out over the water again. Potter hesitates for a second or so, before he settles down next to Draco.
“Do you think it is wise to turn your back to me? You don't have a wand.”
Draco can't help it, he snorts. Potter looks surprised at that.
“Really Potter, do you think anybody would give a rats arse about what you do to me? If you decide to off me here and now, most of the people would probably simply say -’well done’. I count on the fact that you are too much of a Gryffindor to do that, and that you would have the decency to not stab me in the back. I consider it your birthday present to me.”
Potter looks startled at that again, and it occurs to Draco that he probably didn't know about that. Oh well it doesn't matter much anyway.
“Would you like a drink?” Draco asks before Potter can start to bumble about again. Just for a while, he wants to pretend, that he and Potter are nothing but old classmates and that having him here in the Malfoy garden is nothing special.
Potter nods, and he looks at Draco as if he is a particularly difficult puzzle that he would like to solve.
“Tippy?” Draco calls, and the little elf pops up.
“What can Tippy do for Mr Draco and his guest?”
“Can you bring us tea please? And maybe some cake. Thank you!”
Tippy bows and disappears with another pop. Potter look at him as if he has grown horns and then he proves that he is Potter, just by asking the most stupid question he could come up with.
“Which curse did you want to cast, when I cast the Sectumsempra at you?” seeing as there is a wand pressed into his jugular all of a sudden, Draco is more than startled, but he gets the word out.
“Crucio, not one of my brighter moments.”
The wand disappears and Potter looks apologetic.
“Sorry, but that was too strange seeing you so friendly with a house elf. I needed to be sure you weren't polyjuiced.”
Draco just shakes his head. “And they call Slytherins paranoid. I just hope you don't need to test the cake for poison, Tippy would be seriously offended.”
Potter shakes his head and takes the offered cake. Draco watches him eat and for a while they sit in companionable silence. Potter puts down the fork and licks his lips. Draco is surprised by the stab of arousal that shots through him at the sight of that pink tongue, and turns his face away.
“I never said happy birthday did I?” Potter says and Draco can't help it but rolls his eyes at the inane comment.
“I don't think it matters much. The last few birthdays already sucked so why should I celebrate this one? I don't think I should anyhow when so many people will never again celebrate theirs.” Draco trails of speaking out what has only been plaguing his mind. A warm hand covers his knee and he looks up, more than a little surprised. Potter - or should it be Harry if he takes such liberties with him, looks at him with these eyes - green and earnest and somewhat cute if he allows himself the thought in the privacy of his mind.
“I think we need to celebrate life, especially for those who won't get to celebrate theirs. I don't think they would want us to mourn forever and well, I know with all the funerals I have been to within the last 4 weeks, I need to celebrate life or I will go crazy.”
Draco swallows around the knot that seems to have lodged inside of his throat.
“Thanks.” He doesn't get any more word out, but Harry squeezes his knee showing he understands.
“I really don't want to be rude, but why did you come by? Did they sent you to make sure that I didn´t run away? I mean they bound us to the land until the trials are through, and then I´ll probably end up in Azkaban.”
Harry shakes his head. “I came by to tell you that I have spoken with Kingsley and Professor McGonagall. We are going to reopen Hogwarts and if you are willing to help with the reparations then I am authorized to hand your wand back to you. You won't be tried like a real deatheather, because enough witnesses came forward to prove you were under duress and that you treated the prisoners as kindly as possible. I could provide the proof that you refused to identify me, even though you knew who I was.”
“Why?”
Harry flushes. “Because we know each other. Who will make sure my ego doesn't inflate overly much now that Severus is gone, if not you?” There is a weird emphasis on the word “know” and Draco can tell he is only half joking and a warm feeling curls inside of him. But he needs to make sure.
“So you volunteered to watch me? Even though I am definitely the wrong sort?”
Harry snorts. “You should definitely know by now, that I have my own mind, about the right or the wrong sort. I did not fight a war so that people can now go on another witch hunt. So are you in?”
Draco nods and a careful smile steals onto his face. He finds it mirrored n Harrys face and impulsively he puts out his hand.
“Draco Malfoy, nice to meet you.”
Harrys hand is warm as it curls around his. “Harry Potter, nice to meet you too. I wish you a happy birthday and hopefully many happy returns. I believe this here belongs to you.”
He pulls the old hawthorn wand from the holster and hands it to Draco. It feels warm, comfortable and Draco can finally identify the strange feeling in his stomach.
It is hope.
And while this birthday might not be the best one he ever had, it is not the worst one either. It simply is the beginning of a new year and for the first time Draco hopes that many more will follow as he sits in comfortable silence with Harry and watches the sun reflect on the water.
It doesn't mean that the house is free of the dark magical taint, it doesn't mean that his father won't go to Azkaban for the crimes he has committed.
But it means more to Draco than he can say at the moment - it is a gift more precious than diamonds.