Long, NC-17, How To Take A Fall (Conclusion, Part 2)
When Draco arrived at The Leaky Cauldron the next morning, Harry was waiting for him in the stool closest to the door, and he stood as Draco entered. Harry favored him with a smile and greeted him, then turned to Tom.
“The parcel is ready, then?” Harry asked.
“Ready to go, Harry.” Tom slid a large box tied with twine across the counter, and Harry took it, hoisted it under one arm, and signaled Draco toward the back door, towards Diagon Alley.
“So...what have you been plotting, Potter?” Draco was very curious about what exactly Harry had planned.
“You’ll see. Just come with me.”
A few blocks along, their destination became clear, and Draco was proved right when they came to a halt in front of an ornate wrought iron gate bearing the words “Remembrance Park”.
“A memorial park, Harry? That’s a bit maudlin for a first date, isn’t it?”
“You think this is our first date, Draco?” Harry teased. “I was counting our trip to Albus’s memorial as our first real date this time around; this outing was to celebrate our 2 day anniversary!” Harry cocked his brow.
Draco fixed him with a level look.
“Serious then, eh? All right. Let’s find somewhere to sit, and all will be revealed in due course,” he said with a voice laced with mystery. Harry was certainly playful this morning.
They settled themselves on a bench under a leafy elm and began removing wrapped packages from a box. Tom had packed a hearty lunch of cold roast chicken, pasties, cucumbers, strawberries, and small fruit pies, and Harry dug in with relish.
“You always did love to eat, didn’t you? After you finish establishing your authority over that pumpkin pasty, why don’t you tell me why you chose this dreamy, romantic spot for our rendezvous,” Draco drawled.
“Fair enough. I spent part of the last 24 hours considering what we talked about yesterday afternoon, and I think I need to make amends for what we were then. Being here with you, seeing your past and showing you mine - I just want to put it in its proper place,” Harry said.
Draco smiled at him. He was trying so very, very hard. He was so earnest, so genuine.
“Harry... Harry, why did it take you four years to contact me again?” Draco asked suddenly.
“Christ, Draco. You know how fucked up I was. That didn’t just undo itself over a few months’ time. It wasn’t until about 18 months ago that I even felt like a normal person again. I didn’t have sex with anyone more than a handful of times until last year; I couldn’t really handle even the most basic of relationships. I had a few friends, but nothing like the friendships I had in school. I was just a wreck. Besides that, I felt - well, I really still feel - like I need to prove myself. This business venture of mine is a chance to accomplish something on my own.”
Draco looked at him in disbelief. “What, saving the entire wizarding world wasn’t enough for you?”
Harry snorted. “That wasn’t me; that was some ridiculous prophecy that was made before I was born, as you well know. It wasn’t a choice, it was... just... the outcome to the actions of a lunatic. My life was just completely reactionary; I didn’t make decisions, I just reacted to whatever was done to me. I needed something of my own before I came back here. I have a degree now, a business. As soon as Molly and Hermione finish the Great Real Estate Search, I’ll have my own flat. I have a bit of my own back.”
Draco took this all in, letting it sink in. They ate in silence for several long minutes.
“And you couldn’t write me a single fucking letter until you did that? Not even, ‘Hello, person-I-spent-2-years-sleeping-with, just wanted to let you know that I’m still alive and thinking fondly of you’?” Draco was coldly furious.
Harry stared at him.
“Or were you just too busy playing Muggle to find time for silly things like that? And now you bring me here, to show me that the past is all behind you, after you’ve just spent four bloody years running from that past? What happened in Canada, Harry? What are you running from this time?”
Harry watched him, the look on his face a tragic mixture of sorrow and hurt, and when he spoke his voice was quiet.
“Draco, I’m - I’m just so sorry. I never thought you would want to hear from me; I couldn’t imagine that you would care to hear anything that I had to say. Hermione told me that you were furious. I thought it would be better to stay away until both of us had a chance to get our own back. You don’t understand; I needed to earn this. What we talked about yesterday, how I need to make you feel wanted above all else - do you remember that? This is just more of the same. I wanted to be worthy of you when I came back here; I wanted to show you how I had changed. And I have. I truly have.”
((A/N: Harry shows Draco sites for Sirius, the Weasleys, and his parents. He is subdued but OK, and there's not much narrative space spent here but it's clear that Harry is dealing fine. They eventually make it to the Malfoy site, but neither of them want to linger there and they move on quickly.))
“Your father’s site, then.” Draco nodded, remaining silent. Harry gently rested a hand on his shoulder, and stood quietly beside him until Draco turned and walked away from the site. They walked quietly together for a while until they came upon another, almost equally impressive family memorial garden. A bit more ostentatious, this one was centered around a large obelisk with a ‘P’ engraved in an ornate, curly script on all four sides.
Draco made his way into the center of the garden, then followed one of the perfectly squared crushed marble paths to a shady corner. It was slightly overgrown, and the small corner bed was carpeted with a rainbow pansies. A small statue of a fairy hovered over the field of flowers, her translucent wings fluttering in the breeze and casting rainbows over the rich green leaves. At the base of the statues three small P’s were entwined.
“Pansy,” Draco offered. “My first friend, my first crush, my very first kiss.”
“Draco! I never knew that! Pansy gave you your first kiss?” Harry laughed.
Draco smiled. “Oh yes, she did. Or, well, I suppose I kissed her first. In the garden of our vacation home, the weekend of the Quidditch World Cup. God, I was so nervous. She came with her parents to brunch, the morning before the match, and I kissed her in the garden. Scared me - well - not quite straight, I suppose.” He grinned.
Harry smiled and wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist and rested his dark head against his shoulder blades, nuzzling into his back. Draco was quiet for a moment before he continued in a hushed and choked voice, “Harry, I look back, and I realize that that day was the end of my childhood, in almost every way possible. It was the day of my first kiss; I think it might have been when I first started questioning my sexuality at some very basic level. And then that night....” Draco’s voice trailed off
Harry’s arms tightened, and his voice was level and controlled. “That night made it all real, at least for those of us who were paying attention. Was your father one of them?”
Draco nodded. “I wasn’t supposed to be out that night, and when I sneaked back into the house I saw my father in his full ridiculous regalia, talking to some of his friends. He was just so fucking excited, so ridiculous and just... it was embarrassing, really. I knew that he was interested in the darker arts; I mean, I’d been in Knockturn Alley enough times to know that not everyone went places like that. But that was when it was real to me, and it was the first small thread of doubt I ever had about my father. It was the most important day in my life and she was a part of it. And the threads are all tangled together; the war began for me the same day that I kissed her and realized I didn’t really care to be more than her dearest friend, and that same war made it so that she could never be my friend again. Ironic.”
Harry nudged Draco’s waist to turn him around in his arms and gather him close while Draco continued. “You were a part of that day too, you know. During the war, when I told my mother I was gay and that I was dating Blaise, she actually told me that she had suspected that I might be. Apparently I spent part of the match eyeing you up,” Draco said, and grinned down at him.
Harry laughed again, shocked. “Really! I never knew you were into me while we were at school!”
Draco shrugged, and dropped a kiss on Harry’s forehead. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I rather hated you most of the time we were in school, but I will admit that somewhere during our sixth year I became very aware of just how attractive you are. It just seems like my subconscious knew that well before my conscious mind did.”
Harry beamed. “And your mother noticed, did she? Sounds like I might rather like your mother. Do you ever hear anything from her?” he asked.
Now it was Draco’s turn to smile, and he turned to lead Harry away from the Parkinson family garden. “Every once in a while a tropical bird brings me a letter, and she seems to be doing well. She can’t leave Argentina for fear of being arrested, but it doesn’t seem to be much of a hardship. She hasn’t taken another husband, which knowing my mother suggests that she’s quite happy with a long string of young lovers.”
“Have you been to visit her?” Harry asked.
“No, I haven’t, and I’m not certain if I will. She’s not really my family anymore; Severus and Albus and even Minerva and Remus and Hermione have been my family for years now.” Draco shrugged. “I’m not certain what we have to offer one another, besides unpleasant memories.”
“That sounds familiar, but I’ll admit that I’m surprised to hear it coming from you considering how you felt when I was closing myself off from Hermione. You seem awfully willing to forget people who have loved you, Draco. I know that things were… difficult with her, but you meant a great deal to each other for a long time; perhaps you should see her, talk to her. It might be worth the trouble.”
Draco’s smile was tight. “She certainly hasn’t gone through any trouble to see me, either. There’s not even been a real invitation, other than a ‘come for a visit some time’. I rather think that if she really wanted me in her life, she’d find a way to talk to me that would make me know that. I’m not so closed off as all that.” Draco paused for a moment. “Am I?”
Harry waited a moment before answering. He cut his eyes over to Draco and saw the look of disbelief and outrage beginning to spread over his features and quickly grinned. “No, I don’t think so. At least, not to me. I wrote you that first letter hoping you would come for me, putting the decision in your hands. I’m glad you made it, and I’m glad you found me. It’s been good to be with you again.”
They walked on, looking at the stones they passed, quiet for a good bit longer. This entire section had been added on after the last battle, and so they often paused to point out familiar names and swap stories. Harry told Draco about Neville’s bravery the night that Sirius died and dug into his bag for a couple of chocolate frogs and a potted Mimbulus Mimbletonia to leave at his memorial site. Draco made Harry laugh with a silly story about how anxious Goyle had been to spend a night away from home for the first time during his first night in the Slytherin dormitories, and he smiled as he traced his fingers over the double Gs chiseled into the stone. The sun was drooping lower in the sky; they were well into the afternoon, and Draco found himself grateful for the shade and shadows. After a few more long minutes of silence, Harry turned to him.
“So what do you have planned for us for the evening? Surely it can’t be quite this maudlin.” Harry smiled.
Draco smiled back at Harry. “No, not exactly, but it may not be any easier for you. Come with me?” Draco asked. Harry reached out his hand to take Draco’s, and together they apparated away from the quiet clearing.
When they came to rest, they stood in another quiet clearing. Draco watched a grinning Harry look around, trying to imagine what it must look like through his eyes. The fruit trees were in full flower and the garden was green and shot through with color. He had kept the pathways clear and managed to keep up the perennials, but he hadn’t done any new planting. He’d brought in a few men last year to do some upkeep work and to build a gazebo a few meters from the house, but all in all it should look roughly the same.
“I can’t believe you still have this place; I thought you might have sold it. I like the gazebo; it looks like the perfect place for breakfast.” Harry quirked a brow and shot Draco a wicked smile. “You’ve taken good care of my garden. Thank you, Draco,” he said, and gave Draco’s hand a small squeeze before moving away and walking more fully into his garden.
Draco watched Harry move from bed to bed, muttering to himself over the health of his plants. His hands seemed to be everywhere: moving to touch leaf, stem, flower; pushing into the dirt to check moisture; pulling up an errant sprout or weed. In an instant, Harry had come back here and made it his own again. Draco reeled; this was so, so familiar. Perhaps it had been a mistake, bringing him back here. Maybe it was too fast; this had been their home and Draco wasn’t sure exactly what he was telling Harry by inviting him here already. But this had been their home, and if Harry was home then this was a place he would need to see again. They had bought the house together, and it was still under Harry’s ownership.
Draco realized that Harry was watching him, smiling at him. His breath caught in his throat. Here in this place, with the sunlight gleaming in his dark hair, Harry was alive and vibrant and simply beautiful. Harry pinched a bloom from the tangle of climbing roses and brought it to him, rubbing it under his nose and dropping his head to Draco’s shoulder. The strong, summery scent of heirloom roses and the silky slide of the petals mixed with the smell of sunshine in Harry’s hair and the warmth of his hands to completely envelop Draco in his senses.
“You certainly seem happy with my choice for the afternoon,” Draco breathed.
Harry smiled at him. “I am always happy here. From the first moment we saw this house, I knew that I would always love this garden. I’m so glad you brought me here; thank you. And you really have done a nice job keeping it up, although it’s starting to look a bit bare. You can’t just count on the perennials to come back every year and do all the work, you know - you have to keep them trimmed and feed them properly, and you have to put in bulbs and new flowering plants every year to add a bit of color.” Harry was looking around the garden, a bit distracted, and Draco could almost see the list of projects he was developing. He was beginning to ramble on about fertilizers and nitrogen balances and Plant Perker-Upper Potions and a number of things that Draco dimly remembered as topics of one-sided but very passionate discussions in their past.
Draco shrugged. “This was always your project, Harry, not mine. My purpose in the garden was merely to act as part of the ornamentation.” Draco preened and then turned serious for a moment. “Actually, I’m quite surprised to see that you remember as much as you do; have you had occasion to do much gardening over the last few years?”
Harry cocked his head to one side. “Well, just a little. I worked fairly regularly in a community gardening project the last two years, and I always kept herbs and a few flowers in boxes on the patio of my apartment. But it was never on the same scale that this is, and in some ways they only made me miss this place worse. The community garden was quite a bit like working at the Dursleys’ - they gave me tasks and I carried them out. It was good to have my hands in the soil, but I never chose what I planted, or planned any of the beds or anything.” Harry paused. “I would love to do some work out here again - with your permission, of course.” Harry seemed a bit unsure of himself.
Draco smiled at him. “It’s yours, Harry. That’s part of why I never really touched the garden; it has always belonged to you,” Draco said, as he took Harry’s hand again and began to lead him around the edge of garden. “What ever happened to the Dursleys, anyway? Did dreadful, dire Dudley Dursley ever actually explode?”
Harry grinned. “In a manner of speaking, I suppose he did. He did manage to finish university, and he’s been working for his father, doing some kind of dolefully dull work on drill design.” Draco smiled and nodded an acknowledgement of Harry’s continuation of the wordplay. “A few years ago, though, he actually got into a spot of trouble - stole some things from his parents and sold them to pay off some gambling debts. Nothing terribly serious, just enough to set the family into complete chaos. It all seems to have settled itself, but it was quite a bit of excitement when it all happened. I don’t really speak to them any longer but I do tend to hear bits and pieces of news here and there.”
“So you’re cut off from the family of your childhood, as well. I know you’re still close to Remus and Hermione; who else has been taking care of you over the last several years?”
Harry smiled. “I made a few good friends in Toronto, although I don’t know how closely I’ll stay in touch with them. A lot of them were Muggles; only a couple were wizards, and those lads I’ll probably stay close to.” Draco spared a moment to wonder if either of them had been lovers and had to stifle a flare of jealousy. Harry continued, “Mostly, I’ve been taking care of myself, and you can’t imagine how amazing that has been. Sometimes I think I’ve spent my entire life feeling either abandoned or suffocated. Leaving here and being somewhere completely different gave me a chance to learn to be alone by choice and not because nobody wanted me. I got back in touch with the Weasleys about a year after I left; I spent six weeks at The Burrow one summer just doing nothing and letting Molly feed me and worry over me and just talking to Arthur. It gave me a chance to get used to being with them without Ron around and went a long way towards figuring out what we were to each other. It’s a strange relationship that I hope I never have to explain to anyone, but I still feel like Molly Weasley is my mother and Remus Lupin is my father.” Harry shrugged. “I don’t know, I guess it works as well as it needs to.”
They had walked the entire garden by this time and came to the front door of the small cottage. Draco took a deep breath and gave Harry a thin smile. “So, this is actually as far as I planned this afternoon; I thought we would figure the rest out together. Would you like to come in? I have changed nothing inside the house, but it is still yours and there may be some things you’d like to see or take. Or we could take a walk, or go flying. I thought that if you were interested we could go out to dinner, or we could cook if you wanted to; I stocked the kitchen last night just in case.” Draco broke off when he noticed that Harry was grinning at him, and he scowled. “What is it then? What’s so funny?”
Harry’s grin grew even wider. “You’re nervous, that’s what’s funny. I’ve never seen you like this before; the rambling anxiety bit is usually mine. You’ve been hiding behind our agendas all day and now that the planned portion of the day’s activities have come to an end, you have no idea what to make of yourself or of me and it’s making you behave like a silly schoolboy.” Harry paused to reach out and push back a piece of Draco’s hair. “I love it; I love seeing you like this.”
Draco gave him a wry smile. “I’m so glad that I can amuse you. Do you want to come in or not?”
“In, yes. Let me in my house. Do you still have that sofa?” Harry was laughing as he pushed open the front door. “That poor old thing....” Harry’s voice tapered off as he stepped into the room for the first time since the night he’d left. “Oh, my....” he whispered. “It’s just the same. Oh God.” He trailed his fingers over the small dining table, and then looked up to smile at Draco. “You weren’t kidding - you really haven’t changed it much, have you? This is still our house.”
“Yes, I suppose you could put it that way. I’m not here that often, really. As you can see, the sofa is still here. Not much has changed at all, I don’t suppose.” Draco knew he was fidgety and repeating himself, but he was suddenly very nervous. Harry was back in their house again; the last memories he had of the two of them in their house were the last memories he had of Harry full stop.
Harry’s face was a bit pale, and his eyes were darting all over the room. Draco mused for a minute; it’s funny the way places strike you. Harry was so at ease to be back in his garden, but just a few feet away, in their house, he seemed overwhelmed.
Draco started to backpedal. “Harry - Harry, we can go. This is too much. I’m sorry I brought you here; I should have known it was too much and far too soon. Let’s just go - we’ll have a nice dinner out and -” He reached out to take Harry’s hand.
Harry interrupted, “No! No, Draco, I don’t want to go. I want to stay here. I’m sorry I reacted like that; it’s only that I’m a little startled. Don’t you remember the last night we were here? God, I’ve thought about that night so many times.” Harry’s voice drifted off, and both men were silent for a moment. Harry cleared his throat, and when he spoke again his voice was much more normal. “Let’s go see what you laid in for dinner, shall we?”
Harry made a quick meal of sandwiches and tea while they chatted about affairs at the school. Draco watched him work, snagging bits from the bowls and chopping boards as they passed him by. Harry seemed to move so seamlessly here; he still remembered where to find the strainer, remembered to bump the far right drawer with his hip to get the corner unstuck before he tried to open it.
Draco joined him at the table and watched Harry dive into his meal. His eyes were scanning the room, landing on various objects. He finally fixed Draco with a rather queer look. “Draco, aren’t you eating? I’m sorry - I never asked what you wanted for dinner. Here, let’s just -” Harry pulled out his wand and prepared to transfigure dinner into something more appealing.
Draco reached out and stilled Harry’s wand hand. “Just leave it. God, but this is terribly awkward. Let’s just - maybe this would be easier if we just stopped trying to be so bloody considerate and just had it out. Considerate and polite have never particularly worked for us, anyway.”
Harry grinned. “Right, I’ll just be a total bastard. What do you want from me?”
Draco gave him a thin smile. “Actually, I’m going first, and that was exactly my question. What do you want, Harry?”
“You’re still asking me what I want? God, Draco, I thought we’d settled all that last night.”
“Just humor me, will you?” Draco said.
Harry took Draco’s hand and stroked his fingers over the palm for a minute before he met his eyes, and Draco thought that he’d never seen him more serious. “Then let me be very plain, because this is the last time I’m laying it out like this. I came back here to be with you. I want to be your lover and your partner and I want what we had then only I want it to be a hundred times better because we’re the men we are now instead of the boys we were then. I’m happier and so are you and I’ve been in love with you for years and I think that maybe you are in love with me or… or at least you could be, maybe. I want to take you to bed here, tonight, and I want to wake up tomorrow and have breakfast out on the gazebo and I want you to make love to me out in my garden. I want to go to The Leaky Cauldron and collect all my things and then come back here and have a late lunch in bed. I want to tell Hermione and Molly to stop looking for a flat for me, because I’m coming home to you. I want to listen to you complain about your students and I want to try out new product ideas on you. I want everything with you, and I want us to at least try, Draco, because I don’t know how to stop wanting any of these things. And most of all, I don’t really know what’s stopping us.” Harry paused and looked down; a strange, sad look crossed his face. “Actually, come to that, I do know what’s stopping us - you are. So I think it’s time you stop worrying so much and just tell me - what do you want? If you don’t want to be with me, or if you think you might want me but just not yet, or…just… whatever it is, Draco, I need to know. I’ve put so much out here for you, I’ve worked so hard to make things so clear and so easy for you; I think I deserve to know.” With these last words, Harry raised his eyes and fixed Draco with a long look.
Draco was struck breathless. He had watched Harry throughout this speech, watched his expression change and contort as he struggled to find words for what he was feeling, and now he saw the sorrow and the worry in his face.
“I do appreciate that this can’t have been easy for you. Thank you for that.” He turned their clasped hands so he could examine Harry’s palm. He ran just the tip of his middle finger around the calluses at the bases of those strong fingers, gently circling each one.
“Of course I want you, Harry. You must know that; I’ve not done a very good job of hiding my reactions to you over these past days. And I will admit that it has been very flattering to be pursued by you. When you left, I was angry for a long time. I was furious with myself for being so vulnerable and caring so much about you. And you were gone for so long, and I started to believe that you weren’t coming back, even though all along I knew that we weren’t finished with each other.” Harry smiled fondly at him, and raised one hand to smooth it through Draco’s hair. He petted his hair for a few moments, then moved his hand to cup his cheek. Draco pushed into his warm hand, urging Harry to cradle his face. “But you have come back. You came back for me and I’m glad that you have done. And you’ve given me the choice about this, made it my decision and respected my wishes. Thank you for making it mine.”
They were silent for a moment, each watching the other. “So what are you saying to me?” Harry asked him quietly.
For just a moment, Draco wasn’t sure. He was not pleased at the level of presumption Harry displayed, the ownership he seemed to assume. How dare he - except that Harry always dared, and that's what made him the man he was. It's part of what made him the man Draco had wanted for so long, the man he still wanted.
“I... I’m saying yes.”
The room was quiet for a moment as their eyes stayed locked and Harry’s grin grew wider. Finally, Draco stood and tugged Harry to his feet as well.
“Come here.” He folded Harry into his arms and held him tightly, bowing his head to bury his face in Harry’s hair while Harry burrowed into his neck.
“Oh, god,” Harry breathed. “This is really happening, isn’t it? You’re not going to push me away again?”
“No, Harry. I’m here.” He dropped a kiss atop Harry’s head and then gently pushed him away. He locked his eyes onto Harry’s and with a small smile, he raised his hands to his own shirt buttons.
“Oh, no, Draco - let me. I’ve been thinking of you for so long, wanting this.” Harry’s hands made quick work of his buttons and he smoothed his palms across Draco’s chest to shove the shirt from his shoulders. Draco felt those calluses tickle at his nipples and he gasped a little. He pulled the light jumper over Harry’s head and slid his hands down Harry’s strong tanned arms, lacing their fingers and tugging him forward until their chests were pressed together. The slide of hot, smooth skin was intoxicating and lovely, and although Draco wanted to wrap his arms around Harry and pull him up more firmly against him, he didn’t want to let go of Harry’s hands. He found that he couldn’t release his eyes, either - such beautiful eyes that Draco had always loved, framed with long black lashes and half-hidden behind a shock of hair. Draco raised one of their joined hands to push the hair away from Harry’s face, and was again reminded of how soft it was.
Harry bent forward and kissed his way around to Draco’s ear. He licked and nibbled his way around the ear, stopping to pay special attention to the sensitive spot at the very top of the lobe that only he knew and pausing to suck at the delicate skin just behind and below his ear. “I’ve wanted to be back here for so long. I’m so sorry. Please don’t push me away anymore; let me back in. I do love you, Draco,” Harry whispered.
Draco shivered and released Harry’s hands to reach for the closure to his own trousers. Again, Harry stilled his hands. “No. Please, please let me.” As he finished removing Draco’s pants & trousers he was kicking off his own, until they stood there together, naked.
“Harry.” Draco breathed his name; it was all he could think, it was racing through his mind in a mad litany. His smell, his taste, the feel of his skin. Suddenly their mouths were fastened together and his hands were everywhere, smoothing over all the skin he could touch, joyous and manic and frenzied at the connection of their bodies. He wasn’t thinking, he wasn’t worrying, he was where he needed to be and he couldn’t get close enough to his lover. “Yes, please. Everything.”
And it was.
“The parcel is ready, then?” Harry asked.
“Ready to go, Harry.” Tom slid a large box tied with twine across the counter, and Harry took it, hoisted it under one arm, and signaled Draco toward the back door, towards Diagon Alley.
“So...what have you been plotting, Potter?” Draco was very curious about what exactly Harry had planned.
“You’ll see. Just come with me.”
A few blocks along, their destination became clear, and Draco was proved right when they came to a halt in front of an ornate wrought iron gate bearing the words “Remembrance Park”.
“A memorial park, Harry? That’s a bit maudlin for a first date, isn’t it?”
“You think this is our first date, Draco?” Harry teased. “I was counting our trip to Albus’s memorial as our first real date this time around; this outing was to celebrate our 2 day anniversary!” Harry cocked his brow.
Draco fixed him with a level look.
“Serious then, eh? All right. Let’s find somewhere to sit, and all will be revealed in due course,” he said with a voice laced with mystery. Harry was certainly playful this morning.
They settled themselves on a bench under a leafy elm and began removing wrapped packages from a box. Tom had packed a hearty lunch of cold roast chicken, pasties, cucumbers, strawberries, and small fruit pies, and Harry dug in with relish.
“You always did love to eat, didn’t you? After you finish establishing your authority over that pumpkin pasty, why don’t you tell me why you chose this dreamy, romantic spot for our rendezvous,” Draco drawled.
“Fair enough. I spent part of the last 24 hours considering what we talked about yesterday afternoon, and I think I need to make amends for what we were then. Being here with you, seeing your past and showing you mine - I just want to put it in its proper place,” Harry said.
Draco smiled at him. He was trying so very, very hard. He was so earnest, so genuine.
“Harry... Harry, why did it take you four years to contact me again?” Draco asked suddenly.
“Christ, Draco. You know how fucked up I was. That didn’t just undo itself over a few months’ time. It wasn’t until about 18 months ago that I even felt like a normal person again. I didn’t have sex with anyone more than a handful of times until last year; I couldn’t really handle even the most basic of relationships. I had a few friends, but nothing like the friendships I had in school. I was just a wreck. Besides that, I felt - well, I really still feel - like I need to prove myself. This business venture of mine is a chance to accomplish something on my own.”
Draco looked at him in disbelief. “What, saving the entire wizarding world wasn’t enough for you?”
Harry snorted. “That wasn’t me; that was some ridiculous prophecy that was made before I was born, as you well know. It wasn’t a choice, it was... just... the outcome to the actions of a lunatic. My life was just completely reactionary; I didn’t make decisions, I just reacted to whatever was done to me. I needed something of my own before I came back here. I have a degree now, a business. As soon as Molly and Hermione finish the Great Real Estate Search, I’ll have my own flat. I have a bit of my own back.”
Draco took this all in, letting it sink in. They ate in silence for several long minutes.
“And you couldn’t write me a single fucking letter until you did that? Not even, ‘Hello, person-I-spent-2-years-sleeping-with, just wanted to let you know that I’m still alive and thinking fondly of you’?” Draco was coldly furious.
Harry stared at him.
“Or were you just too busy playing Muggle to find time for silly things like that? And now you bring me here, to show me that the past is all behind you, after you’ve just spent four bloody years running from that past? What happened in Canada, Harry? What are you running from this time?”
Harry watched him, the look on his face a tragic mixture of sorrow and hurt, and when he spoke his voice was quiet.
“Draco, I’m - I’m just so sorry. I never thought you would want to hear from me; I couldn’t imagine that you would care to hear anything that I had to say. Hermione told me that you were furious. I thought it would be better to stay away until both of us had a chance to get our own back. You don’t understand; I needed to earn this. What we talked about yesterday, how I need to make you feel wanted above all else - do you remember that? This is just more of the same. I wanted to be worthy of you when I came back here; I wanted to show you how I had changed. And I have. I truly have.”
((A/N: Harry shows Draco sites for Sirius, the Weasleys, and his parents. He is subdued but OK, and there's not much narrative space spent here but it's clear that Harry is dealing fine. They eventually make it to the Malfoy site, but neither of them want to linger there and they move on quickly.))
“Your father’s site, then.” Draco nodded, remaining silent. Harry gently rested a hand on his shoulder, and stood quietly beside him until Draco turned and walked away from the site. They walked quietly together for a while until they came upon another, almost equally impressive family memorial garden. A bit more ostentatious, this one was centered around a large obelisk with a ‘P’ engraved in an ornate, curly script on all four sides.
Draco made his way into the center of the garden, then followed one of the perfectly squared crushed marble paths to a shady corner. It was slightly overgrown, and the small corner bed was carpeted with a rainbow pansies. A small statue of a fairy hovered over the field of flowers, her translucent wings fluttering in the breeze and casting rainbows over the rich green leaves. At the base of the statues three small P’s were entwined.
“Pansy,” Draco offered. “My first friend, my first crush, my very first kiss.”
“Draco! I never knew that! Pansy gave you your first kiss?” Harry laughed.
Draco smiled. “Oh yes, she did. Or, well, I suppose I kissed her first. In the garden of our vacation home, the weekend of the Quidditch World Cup. God, I was so nervous. She came with her parents to brunch, the morning before the match, and I kissed her in the garden. Scared me - well - not quite straight, I suppose.” He grinned.
Harry smiled and wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist and rested his dark head against his shoulder blades, nuzzling into his back. Draco was quiet for a moment before he continued in a hushed and choked voice, “Harry, I look back, and I realize that that day was the end of my childhood, in almost every way possible. It was the day of my first kiss; I think it might have been when I first started questioning my sexuality at some very basic level. And then that night....” Draco’s voice trailed off
Harry’s arms tightened, and his voice was level and controlled. “That night made it all real, at least for those of us who were paying attention. Was your father one of them?”
Draco nodded. “I wasn’t supposed to be out that night, and when I sneaked back into the house I saw my father in his full ridiculous regalia, talking to some of his friends. He was just so fucking excited, so ridiculous and just... it was embarrassing, really. I knew that he was interested in the darker arts; I mean, I’d been in Knockturn Alley enough times to know that not everyone went places like that. But that was when it was real to me, and it was the first small thread of doubt I ever had about my father. It was the most important day in my life and she was a part of it. And the threads are all tangled together; the war began for me the same day that I kissed her and realized I didn’t really care to be more than her dearest friend, and that same war made it so that she could never be my friend again. Ironic.”
Harry nudged Draco’s waist to turn him around in his arms and gather him close while Draco continued. “You were a part of that day too, you know. During the war, when I told my mother I was gay and that I was dating Blaise, she actually told me that she had suspected that I might be. Apparently I spent part of the match eyeing you up,” Draco said, and grinned down at him.
Harry laughed again, shocked. “Really! I never knew you were into me while we were at school!”
Draco shrugged, and dropped a kiss on Harry’s forehead. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I rather hated you most of the time we were in school, but I will admit that somewhere during our sixth year I became very aware of just how attractive you are. It just seems like my subconscious knew that well before my conscious mind did.”
Harry beamed. “And your mother noticed, did she? Sounds like I might rather like your mother. Do you ever hear anything from her?” he asked.
Now it was Draco’s turn to smile, and he turned to lead Harry away from the Parkinson family garden. “Every once in a while a tropical bird brings me a letter, and she seems to be doing well. She can’t leave Argentina for fear of being arrested, but it doesn’t seem to be much of a hardship. She hasn’t taken another husband, which knowing my mother suggests that she’s quite happy with a long string of young lovers.”
“Have you been to visit her?” Harry asked.
“No, I haven’t, and I’m not certain if I will. She’s not really my family anymore; Severus and Albus and even Minerva and Remus and Hermione have been my family for years now.” Draco shrugged. “I’m not certain what we have to offer one another, besides unpleasant memories.”
“That sounds familiar, but I’ll admit that I’m surprised to hear it coming from you considering how you felt when I was closing myself off from Hermione. You seem awfully willing to forget people who have loved you, Draco. I know that things were… difficult with her, but you meant a great deal to each other for a long time; perhaps you should see her, talk to her. It might be worth the trouble.”
Draco’s smile was tight. “She certainly hasn’t gone through any trouble to see me, either. There’s not even been a real invitation, other than a ‘come for a visit some time’. I rather think that if she really wanted me in her life, she’d find a way to talk to me that would make me know that. I’m not so closed off as all that.” Draco paused for a moment. “Am I?”
Harry waited a moment before answering. He cut his eyes over to Draco and saw the look of disbelief and outrage beginning to spread over his features and quickly grinned. “No, I don’t think so. At least, not to me. I wrote you that first letter hoping you would come for me, putting the decision in your hands. I’m glad you made it, and I’m glad you found me. It’s been good to be with you again.”
They walked on, looking at the stones they passed, quiet for a good bit longer. This entire section had been added on after the last battle, and so they often paused to point out familiar names and swap stories. Harry told Draco about Neville’s bravery the night that Sirius died and dug into his bag for a couple of chocolate frogs and a potted Mimbulus Mimbletonia to leave at his memorial site. Draco made Harry laugh with a silly story about how anxious Goyle had been to spend a night away from home for the first time during his first night in the Slytherin dormitories, and he smiled as he traced his fingers over the double Gs chiseled into the stone. The sun was drooping lower in the sky; they were well into the afternoon, and Draco found himself grateful for the shade and shadows. After a few more long minutes of silence, Harry turned to him.
“So what do you have planned for us for the evening? Surely it can’t be quite this maudlin.” Harry smiled.
Draco smiled back at Harry. “No, not exactly, but it may not be any easier for you. Come with me?” Draco asked. Harry reached out his hand to take Draco’s, and together they apparated away from the quiet clearing.
When they came to rest, they stood in another quiet clearing. Draco watched a grinning Harry look around, trying to imagine what it must look like through his eyes. The fruit trees were in full flower and the garden was green and shot through with color. He had kept the pathways clear and managed to keep up the perennials, but he hadn’t done any new planting. He’d brought in a few men last year to do some upkeep work and to build a gazebo a few meters from the house, but all in all it should look roughly the same.
“I can’t believe you still have this place; I thought you might have sold it. I like the gazebo; it looks like the perfect place for breakfast.” Harry quirked a brow and shot Draco a wicked smile. “You’ve taken good care of my garden. Thank you, Draco,” he said, and gave Draco’s hand a small squeeze before moving away and walking more fully into his garden.
Draco watched Harry move from bed to bed, muttering to himself over the health of his plants. His hands seemed to be everywhere: moving to touch leaf, stem, flower; pushing into the dirt to check moisture; pulling up an errant sprout or weed. In an instant, Harry had come back here and made it his own again. Draco reeled; this was so, so familiar. Perhaps it had been a mistake, bringing him back here. Maybe it was too fast; this had been their home and Draco wasn’t sure exactly what he was telling Harry by inviting him here already. But this had been their home, and if Harry was home then this was a place he would need to see again. They had bought the house together, and it was still under Harry’s ownership.
Draco realized that Harry was watching him, smiling at him. His breath caught in his throat. Here in this place, with the sunlight gleaming in his dark hair, Harry was alive and vibrant and simply beautiful. Harry pinched a bloom from the tangle of climbing roses and brought it to him, rubbing it under his nose and dropping his head to Draco’s shoulder. The strong, summery scent of heirloom roses and the silky slide of the petals mixed with the smell of sunshine in Harry’s hair and the warmth of his hands to completely envelop Draco in his senses.
“You certainly seem happy with my choice for the afternoon,” Draco breathed.
Harry smiled at him. “I am always happy here. From the first moment we saw this house, I knew that I would always love this garden. I’m so glad you brought me here; thank you. And you really have done a nice job keeping it up, although it’s starting to look a bit bare. You can’t just count on the perennials to come back every year and do all the work, you know - you have to keep them trimmed and feed them properly, and you have to put in bulbs and new flowering plants every year to add a bit of color.” Harry was looking around the garden, a bit distracted, and Draco could almost see the list of projects he was developing. He was beginning to ramble on about fertilizers and nitrogen balances and Plant Perker-Upper Potions and a number of things that Draco dimly remembered as topics of one-sided but very passionate discussions in their past.
Draco shrugged. “This was always your project, Harry, not mine. My purpose in the garden was merely to act as part of the ornamentation.” Draco preened and then turned serious for a moment. “Actually, I’m quite surprised to see that you remember as much as you do; have you had occasion to do much gardening over the last few years?”
Harry cocked his head to one side. “Well, just a little. I worked fairly regularly in a community gardening project the last two years, and I always kept herbs and a few flowers in boxes on the patio of my apartment. But it was never on the same scale that this is, and in some ways they only made me miss this place worse. The community garden was quite a bit like working at the Dursleys’ - they gave me tasks and I carried them out. It was good to have my hands in the soil, but I never chose what I planted, or planned any of the beds or anything.” Harry paused. “I would love to do some work out here again - with your permission, of course.” Harry seemed a bit unsure of himself.
Draco smiled at him. “It’s yours, Harry. That’s part of why I never really touched the garden; it has always belonged to you,” Draco said, as he took Harry’s hand again and began to lead him around the edge of garden. “What ever happened to the Dursleys, anyway? Did dreadful, dire Dudley Dursley ever actually explode?”
Harry grinned. “In a manner of speaking, I suppose he did. He did manage to finish university, and he’s been working for his father, doing some kind of dolefully dull work on drill design.” Draco smiled and nodded an acknowledgement of Harry’s continuation of the wordplay. “A few years ago, though, he actually got into a spot of trouble - stole some things from his parents and sold them to pay off some gambling debts. Nothing terribly serious, just enough to set the family into complete chaos. It all seems to have settled itself, but it was quite a bit of excitement when it all happened. I don’t really speak to them any longer but I do tend to hear bits and pieces of news here and there.”
“So you’re cut off from the family of your childhood, as well. I know you’re still close to Remus and Hermione; who else has been taking care of you over the last several years?”
Harry smiled. “I made a few good friends in Toronto, although I don’t know how closely I’ll stay in touch with them. A lot of them were Muggles; only a couple were wizards, and those lads I’ll probably stay close to.” Draco spared a moment to wonder if either of them had been lovers and had to stifle a flare of jealousy. Harry continued, “Mostly, I’ve been taking care of myself, and you can’t imagine how amazing that has been. Sometimes I think I’ve spent my entire life feeling either abandoned or suffocated. Leaving here and being somewhere completely different gave me a chance to learn to be alone by choice and not because nobody wanted me. I got back in touch with the Weasleys about a year after I left; I spent six weeks at The Burrow one summer just doing nothing and letting Molly feed me and worry over me and just talking to Arthur. It gave me a chance to get used to being with them without Ron around and went a long way towards figuring out what we were to each other. It’s a strange relationship that I hope I never have to explain to anyone, but I still feel like Molly Weasley is my mother and Remus Lupin is my father.” Harry shrugged. “I don’t know, I guess it works as well as it needs to.”
They had walked the entire garden by this time and came to the front door of the small cottage. Draco took a deep breath and gave Harry a thin smile. “So, this is actually as far as I planned this afternoon; I thought we would figure the rest out together. Would you like to come in? I have changed nothing inside the house, but it is still yours and there may be some things you’d like to see or take. Or we could take a walk, or go flying. I thought that if you were interested we could go out to dinner, or we could cook if you wanted to; I stocked the kitchen last night just in case.” Draco broke off when he noticed that Harry was grinning at him, and he scowled. “What is it then? What’s so funny?”
Harry’s grin grew even wider. “You’re nervous, that’s what’s funny. I’ve never seen you like this before; the rambling anxiety bit is usually mine. You’ve been hiding behind our agendas all day and now that the planned portion of the day’s activities have come to an end, you have no idea what to make of yourself or of me and it’s making you behave like a silly schoolboy.” Harry paused to reach out and push back a piece of Draco’s hair. “I love it; I love seeing you like this.”
Draco gave him a wry smile. “I’m so glad that I can amuse you. Do you want to come in or not?”
“In, yes. Let me in my house. Do you still have that sofa?” Harry was laughing as he pushed open the front door. “That poor old thing....” Harry’s voice tapered off as he stepped into the room for the first time since the night he’d left. “Oh, my....” he whispered. “It’s just the same. Oh God.” He trailed his fingers over the small dining table, and then looked up to smile at Draco. “You weren’t kidding - you really haven’t changed it much, have you? This is still our house.”
“Yes, I suppose you could put it that way. I’m not here that often, really. As you can see, the sofa is still here. Not much has changed at all, I don’t suppose.” Draco knew he was fidgety and repeating himself, but he was suddenly very nervous. Harry was back in their house again; the last memories he had of the two of them in their house were the last memories he had of Harry full stop.
Harry’s face was a bit pale, and his eyes were darting all over the room. Draco mused for a minute; it’s funny the way places strike you. Harry was so at ease to be back in his garden, but just a few feet away, in their house, he seemed overwhelmed.
Draco started to backpedal. “Harry - Harry, we can go. This is too much. I’m sorry I brought you here; I should have known it was too much and far too soon. Let’s just go - we’ll have a nice dinner out and -” He reached out to take Harry’s hand.
Harry interrupted, “No! No, Draco, I don’t want to go. I want to stay here. I’m sorry I reacted like that; it’s only that I’m a little startled. Don’t you remember the last night we were here? God, I’ve thought about that night so many times.” Harry’s voice drifted off, and both men were silent for a moment. Harry cleared his throat, and when he spoke again his voice was much more normal. “Let’s go see what you laid in for dinner, shall we?”
Harry made a quick meal of sandwiches and tea while they chatted about affairs at the school. Draco watched him work, snagging bits from the bowls and chopping boards as they passed him by. Harry seemed to move so seamlessly here; he still remembered where to find the strainer, remembered to bump the far right drawer with his hip to get the corner unstuck before he tried to open it.
Draco joined him at the table and watched Harry dive into his meal. His eyes were scanning the room, landing on various objects. He finally fixed Draco with a rather queer look. “Draco, aren’t you eating? I’m sorry - I never asked what you wanted for dinner. Here, let’s just -” Harry pulled out his wand and prepared to transfigure dinner into something more appealing.
Draco reached out and stilled Harry’s wand hand. “Just leave it. God, but this is terribly awkward. Let’s just - maybe this would be easier if we just stopped trying to be so bloody considerate and just had it out. Considerate and polite have never particularly worked for us, anyway.”
Harry grinned. “Right, I’ll just be a total bastard. What do you want from me?”
Draco gave him a thin smile. “Actually, I’m going first, and that was exactly my question. What do you want, Harry?”
“You’re still asking me what I want? God, Draco, I thought we’d settled all that last night.”
“Just humor me, will you?” Draco said.
Harry took Draco’s hand and stroked his fingers over the palm for a minute before he met his eyes, and Draco thought that he’d never seen him more serious. “Then let me be very plain, because this is the last time I’m laying it out like this. I came back here to be with you. I want to be your lover and your partner and I want what we had then only I want it to be a hundred times better because we’re the men we are now instead of the boys we were then. I’m happier and so are you and I’ve been in love with you for years and I think that maybe you are in love with me or… or at least you could be, maybe. I want to take you to bed here, tonight, and I want to wake up tomorrow and have breakfast out on the gazebo and I want you to make love to me out in my garden. I want to go to The Leaky Cauldron and collect all my things and then come back here and have a late lunch in bed. I want to tell Hermione and Molly to stop looking for a flat for me, because I’m coming home to you. I want to listen to you complain about your students and I want to try out new product ideas on you. I want everything with you, and I want us to at least try, Draco, because I don’t know how to stop wanting any of these things. And most of all, I don’t really know what’s stopping us.” Harry paused and looked down; a strange, sad look crossed his face. “Actually, come to that, I do know what’s stopping us - you are. So I think it’s time you stop worrying so much and just tell me - what do you want? If you don’t want to be with me, or if you think you might want me but just not yet, or…just… whatever it is, Draco, I need to know. I’ve put so much out here for you, I’ve worked so hard to make things so clear and so easy for you; I think I deserve to know.” With these last words, Harry raised his eyes and fixed Draco with a long look.
Draco was struck breathless. He had watched Harry throughout this speech, watched his expression change and contort as he struggled to find words for what he was feeling, and now he saw the sorrow and the worry in his face.
“I do appreciate that this can’t have been easy for you. Thank you for that.” He turned their clasped hands so he could examine Harry’s palm. He ran just the tip of his middle finger around the calluses at the bases of those strong fingers, gently circling each one.
“Of course I want you, Harry. You must know that; I’ve not done a very good job of hiding my reactions to you over these past days. And I will admit that it has been very flattering to be pursued by you. When you left, I was angry for a long time. I was furious with myself for being so vulnerable and caring so much about you. And you were gone for so long, and I started to believe that you weren’t coming back, even though all along I knew that we weren’t finished with each other.” Harry smiled fondly at him, and raised one hand to smooth it through Draco’s hair. He petted his hair for a few moments, then moved his hand to cup his cheek. Draco pushed into his warm hand, urging Harry to cradle his face. “But you have come back. You came back for me and I’m glad that you have done. And you’ve given me the choice about this, made it my decision and respected my wishes. Thank you for making it mine.”
They were silent for a moment, each watching the other. “So what are you saying to me?” Harry asked him quietly.
For just a moment, Draco wasn’t sure. He was not pleased at the level of presumption Harry displayed, the ownership he seemed to assume. How dare he - except that Harry always dared, and that's what made him the man he was. It's part of what made him the man Draco had wanted for so long, the man he still wanted.
“I... I’m saying yes.”
The room was quiet for a moment as their eyes stayed locked and Harry’s grin grew wider. Finally, Draco stood and tugged Harry to his feet as well.
“Come here.” He folded Harry into his arms and held him tightly, bowing his head to bury his face in Harry’s hair while Harry burrowed into his neck.
“Oh, god,” Harry breathed. “This is really happening, isn’t it? You’re not going to push me away again?”
“No, Harry. I’m here.” He dropped a kiss atop Harry’s head and then gently pushed him away. He locked his eyes onto Harry’s and with a small smile, he raised his hands to his own shirt buttons.
“Oh, no, Draco - let me. I’ve been thinking of you for so long, wanting this.” Harry’s hands made quick work of his buttons and he smoothed his palms across Draco’s chest to shove the shirt from his shoulders. Draco felt those calluses tickle at his nipples and he gasped a little. He pulled the light jumper over Harry’s head and slid his hands down Harry’s strong tanned arms, lacing their fingers and tugging him forward until their chests were pressed together. The slide of hot, smooth skin was intoxicating and lovely, and although Draco wanted to wrap his arms around Harry and pull him up more firmly against him, he didn’t want to let go of Harry’s hands. He found that he couldn’t release his eyes, either - such beautiful eyes that Draco had always loved, framed with long black lashes and half-hidden behind a shock of hair. Draco raised one of their joined hands to push the hair away from Harry’s face, and was again reminded of how soft it was.
Harry bent forward and kissed his way around to Draco’s ear. He licked and nibbled his way around the ear, stopping to pay special attention to the sensitive spot at the very top of the lobe that only he knew and pausing to suck at the delicate skin just behind and below his ear. “I’ve wanted to be back here for so long. I’m so sorry. Please don’t push me away anymore; let me back in. I do love you, Draco,” Harry whispered.
Draco shivered and released Harry’s hands to reach for the closure to his own trousers. Again, Harry stilled his hands. “No. Please, please let me.” As he finished removing Draco’s pants & trousers he was kicking off his own, until they stood there together, naked.
“Harry.” Draco breathed his name; it was all he could think, it was racing through his mind in a mad litany. His smell, his taste, the feel of his skin. Suddenly their mouths were fastened together and his hands were everywhere, smoothing over all the skin he could touch, joyous and manic and frenzied at the connection of their bodies. He wasn’t thinking, he wasn’t worrying, he was where he needed to be and he couldn’t get close enough to his lover. “Yes, please. Everything.”
And it was.