Alone in a Crowd
Title: Alone in a Crowd
Author: sesheta_66
Beta: alaana_fair
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~ 7K
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Summary: In order to join the post-war Auror training programme, Harry must learn Occlumency. When faced with the choice of learning it now from an unlikely source he's not sure he wants seeing his thoughts, or putting his life on hold for another year, Harry finds himself caught between a rock and a hard place. Can he and Draco really put the past behind them, move forward and help each other, or is this a disaster waiting to happen?
A/N: Originally written for sully86 at serpentinelion's Glompfest.
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Alone in a Crowd
by Sesheta
June, 1998
Harry held the journal reverently in his hands. Remus had named him in his will, as Teddy's godfather, as trustee of his modest estate, and as the recipient of this one item, more valuable than all the gold in his Gringott's account. His stomach fluttered and his hands shook as he opened the cover.
This journal belongs to
James Potter
and Sirius Black
Harry carried the book with him everywhere, though he never took it out in front of anyone. He never told anyone what was in it. As he and Andromeda were the only beneficiaries named in Remus' will, no one else had heard about the journal. And with the number of dead after the war, no one much cared to investigate the contents of wills that didn't contain substantial value.
Harry kept this for himself. No one else. And as he stepped out into the back garden at Grimmauld Place, he envisioned what he wanted to be, and as the ground rose up to meet him and his large, grey paws clawed at the earth, he felt closer to his father and godfather than he'd ever imagined possible.
~*~*~
Draco smiled and nodded, made polite conversation, and graciously accepted the offered gifts. He'd always loved his birthdays, mainly because his mother doted on him. This year, though no exception in that respect, felt different.
Of course, everything was different. The war had ended, peace of a sort had been restored, and most of the Dark Lord's followers were dead or incarcerated. Thankfully, his father fell into the latter category. Though Draco had wanted to visit him today, his father had insisted - in a rare show of altruism - that he not tarnish the memory of the day by attending Azkaban. He'd felt a mixture of relief and guilt because, though Dementors no longer guarded the prison, it remained a dank and dreary place.
The weight of his own and his mother's upcoming trials upon him, Draco forced a smile, sipped his whisky, and allowed the presence of his friends to warm him.
September, 1998
The ride to Hogwarts felt strange this year. People stared and whispered behind his back, but Harry was used to that - everywhere he went it was the same. The train remained as always, as did the trolly and the hum of excited voices returning to school, or eagerly awaiting their first glimpse of the castle.
But Harry had changed. The world went on around him while he became ... whoever he was now. The lost school year had aged him, as had the war and all it entailed. Ron and Hermione, though regular guests at Grimmauld, had gone on with their lives as a couple, and Harry didn't much fancy being a third wheel, even when they insisted he wasn't. Things hadn't worked out with Ginny, but that was okay. She and Neville seemed well-suited and genuinely happy together.
Harry had no idea what the year ahead held for him, but he knew one thing: the anticipation, the joy, the wonder of school was no more. He wasn't sorry to be returning, but he was anxious to move on with his life. Sadly, not even fighting a war exempted one from the NEWT requirement for Auror training. So he rode with his friends into Scotland, to the castle that had once been his home, but now felt foreign.
~*~*~
Draco enjoyed a cabin to himself. Not really a surprise, considering he was the only Slytherin in his year to return. Some of his classmates had received tutoring over the summer, and were planning to continue their studies that way until they could sit their NEWTs during a special session scheduled for the winter. Others, like Pansy and Blaise, chose to complete their classes at other schools. About half the year, including Greg, decided that they'd had enough schooling, and their OWLs would be enough. More likely, they knew no matter how many NEWTs they received, they'd still be pariahs, so what was the point?
Narcissa Malfoy, however, had insisted Draco finish up his schooling at Hogwarts. He'd been surprised that the Headmistress would accept him after the unfortunate incident in sixth year. But what had secured his return was the appearance of none other than the Chosen Hero at Draco's trial.
Draco had expected Potter to testify for his mother. He also knew that his father could expect no such thing. When Potter had shown up at Draco's trial, he'd not only been surprised but worried. His mother had reassured him, but not until he heard Potter tell the court that Draco had saved him and his sidekicks did he allow himself to believe he might remain out of prison.
So, without a friend in sight, but not necessarily alone, Draco had boarded the Hogwarts Express for his eighth year.
October, 1998
Harry sniffed around the foliage at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Back at Grimmauld Place, the scents of nature had been masked by buildings, asphalt, and pollution. Here in the Scottish countryside, he found himself on olfactory overload. It was glorious!
He nudged his way through the brush into the deeper parts of the wood, still cautious, given the beasts that remained within. The final battle had devastated much of the forest, but the wildlife within it had remained strong. An impulsive Gryffindor he might be, but Harry had faced death enough, thank you very much. Like the third Peverell brother, Harry planned to face death as an old man.
"Stupefy!"
Harry saw a red flash of light, then he toppled from all fours onto his side as everything faded to black.
"Potter?" Harry heard McGonagall's voice in the distance. "Potter!" she called again as he slowly began to wake. "Rennervate!
"Professor?" Harry got to his hands and knees - what had happened to his paws? - and eventually stood up. "What happened?"
"What happened is that some second years reported a large grey wolf on the grounds." Uh oh. "That's right, Mr Potter. And since I happen to know of no grey wolf packs in the vicinity, I had my suspicions."
"I wasn't doing anything."
"You are an unregistered Animagus, a situation that I expect to remedy before day's end. No matter who you are or what privileges you may feel yourself entitled to," she said in a manner reminiscent of Snape, "I assure you, this will have consequences."
"I ... I just wanted to escape. To be left alone," he said.
"I'm sure I can find a classroom where you can be just that. But for now, my office."
~*~*~
Had he been told two years ago that he'd have a room to himself at Hogwarts, Draco would have been ecstatic. After nearly two months, though, he felt unbearably alone.
His name and reputation earned him solitude, whether students avoided him out of fear, anger, or hatred. Those same students, however, forgot their fears when they saw him out of school. Especially when they travelled in packs.
Draco didn't go to Hogsmeade any more. He rarely left the dungeons. If only he could escape. Be with people.
November, 1998
"Harry, I expect you to set an example," McGonagall said. Honestly, why couldn't he just go to school like everyone else? "Every returning student on probation must perform some community service as defined by the Wizengamot. Tutoring is one such example. Mr Malfoy has attempted to secure voluntary employment elsewhere, but has been unsuccessful. I thought you might assist in this regard."
Harry narrowed his eyes at his former Head of House and now Headmistress. "What do you expect me to do?" he asked, unable to stop the flow of incredulity forming itself into words. "I think you overestimate my influence."
She pursed her lips in that annoying way she had. Then her lip quivered and she rolled her eyes. "You actually believe that, don't you?"
"I'm an eighteen-year-old taking classes to get into the Auror program. My purpose was served. I'm done. Everyone is moving on."
"Harry," she said, her voice softer. "You have more power than you know."
He raised his brows sceptically. "Then why are we back here at school, even after everything we did during the war? You'd think someone with so much power could bypass his NEWTs."
She fixed him with a sharp look. "Petulance does not suit you, Potter. I suggest you drop it." He gaped at her, eyes wide. She grinned and nodded in satisfaction. "You are partially correct, however. Your celebrity will get you nothing here."
"What a novel concept," a familiar voice drawled. Harry looked up to see Snape's portrait sneering down at him. Smug bastard.
McGonagall pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose, as though in pain. "Thank you, Severus. Is that all?"
"Hardly," he said. "I plan to enjoy watching Potter help Draco. Or rather attempt to help him. And fail, naturally. I simply can't imagine what he would have to offer Draco."
"Actually," McGonagall said, ignoring Snape's jibe and returning her attention to Harry, "Mr Malfoy will be helping you."
Harry blinked, confused. "Excuse me?"
"New standards for the Auror program require recruits to be trained in Occlumency prior to the commencement of training," she said. "Surely you knew about that."
"Er."
Snape snorted. "As prepared as ever." He looked gleeful, though thankfully his lack of corporeal form made him rather less intimidating. Harry glared at the portrait. Death clearly hadn't done much for Snape's temperament.
"Mr Malfoy is an accomplished Occlumens, and I have asked him to tutor you."
Harry looked up at Snape's satisfied smirk. His shoulders shook and he looked like he would burst into laughter at any moment. Harry's mind whirled back to the disastrous Occlumency lessons with the man. All his most intimate thoughts and memories flashing before Snape's eyes. And now McGonagall expected him to do the same with Malfoy of all people?
"No."
"Excuse me?"
"I said no. I've been through that before." He looked pointedly at Snape. "I'll not subject myself to that again."
"You say that as though you had a choice, Mr Potter." Snape chuckled. Harry looked around for something heavy to pitch at him.
"You're saying I don't?"
"Of course I'm not saying that." McGonagall leaned back in her chair, fingers forming a steeple on her desk. "You may choose a different career path."
"But --"
"But this is your choice. Draco teaches you Occlumency. He is the best in the school."
"I could look outside the school."
"I'm sure Potter would love to have his adoring fans see his innermost thoughts," Snape said. "No doubt the queue would be endless."
"And you mustn't forget about the press," McGonagall added.
Shit. They were right. He hated when Snape was right. "And Malfoy would be so much better why?"
"Because if he is to remain a student at this school, he will keep your confidence. Besides, Mr Potter, he needs you," McGonagall said. Snape coughed. "You need each other. Also, it would do well to mend fences between Gryffindor and Slytherin, and who better to represent each house."
"I'll think about it," Harry grumbled.
~*~*~
"Mr Malfoy," McGonagall said. "Have a seat." She motioned to a chair, then sat behind her desk. She said nothing for a few moments, no doubt to make him uncomfortable, as she flipped through some pages in a file folder. Draco took the time to look round at the portraits of the former Headmasters and frowned; Snape's was noticeably absent.
"According to your trial report," she said, "you are required to complete a significant number of community service hours in the next ten months." He cringed. He'd managed to escape Azkaban for letting the Death Eaters into Hogwarts, but the charges hadn't been dropped entirely. Now he had to do Merlin-knew-what before he could move on with his life. "Have you given thought to what you might do to satisfy the Wizengamot's requirement?"
"Yes, Professor." Of course he had. He'd thought of little else since the trial. He'd thought he might escape the dread of it, at least while at school, but obviously it wasn't meant to be.
"And what have you decided?"
Truth was, he'd had nightmares about what might happen to a Death Eater's son sent to work ... well, anywhere, really. People were sure to make him pay for much more than he'd personally been responsible for.
"Ah," she said. "I thought perhaps you might struggle with a reasonable solution. I am aware that you have been unable to secure employment."
Did she have a point? He looked around the room, wondering how many of the trinkets scattered about were an homage to Dumbledore. He managed to contain his irritation. Clearly he would have to take the initiative if he were going to return to the Slytherin common room sometime this term. "Did you have a suggestion, perhaps?" If so, do get on with it. "Professor," he added with a smile.
"As a matter of fact, I do."
Shocking. No, really. Do share. He raised his brows.
"The Wizengamot has agreed, for those witches and wizards that were underage at the time of their ... misdeeds, to accept school-related service towards your hours." She smiled. Well, she'd stopped looking at Draco in that way she always did, eyes narrowed, lips pursed. He supposed it was as close as she'd get to smiling at a student that wasn't from her house.
His mind tried to work out what nightmarish tasks she would enjoy doling out to him. He envisioned night-time foraging for creepy-crawlies in the Forbidden Forest. Or working with that oaf, Hagrid, and his killer creatures. Or worse ... Filch. He shuddered. "What sort of school-related service?" he asked.
She pursed her lips and stared right through him. Nothing new there. "Well," she said as she perused his file again. "I see that your marks are strong."
He frowned, confused. "Yes?"
"And you did have some schooling - such that it was - last year." He recalled some of his classes. They were right to require students to return. "I thought perhaps you could tutor a student or two, maybe help out the professors with lessons from time to time, that sort of thing."
That was it? She wanted him to teach? He glanced at Snape's currently empty portrait and recalled how miserable he'd always claimed to be, destined to teach brats for a lifetime. How fitting for Draco to follow in his mentor's shoes.
~*~*~
"It's not bloody fair!" Ron bellowed. Harry smiled, glad Ron was on his side. "The ferret doesn't deserve any help."
Hermione cleared her throat. "Did you forget what he did for Harry during the war?"
"He didn't do a thing," Ron snapped.
"You know that's not true," she argued.
"He said he didn't know who Harry was."
She shot Harry a look, then turned to Ron with a glare. "He knew exactly who we were, Harry included. He saved us."
"Didn't stop his crazy aunt torturing you, did he?"
Hermione shuddered. "Bellatrix killed many witches and wizards, Aurors included. What chance did Draco have, surrounded by Death Eaters - including his father, in case you've forgotten - to stop her? There was nothing he could do. But when it mattered most, he protected Harry. I think he deserves to have a fresh start. Don't you agree, Harry?"
"Er ..." Harry did agree, but that didn't mean he wanted Malfoy rummaging around in his head. Especially now.
"Have you forgotten about Bill?" Ron asked.
"No." She pursed her lips. "But Bill seems to have moved on." She stood up and collected her books. "I suggest you do the same." She turned a hopeful look on Harry. "Consider it, Harry. I think McGonagall's right. About everything."
They watched her go to her dorm, her words lingering.
"'Course she thinks McGonagall's right," Ron grumbled. "She always thinks teachers are right."
"She's got a point, though," Harry said.
"You're not actually considering this, mate?"
Harry nodded. "I don't know that I have much choice. I don't think I can trust anyone else," he said.
"Are you mental?" Weasley whispered.
"Maybe." Harry recalled his lessons with Snape. "But if I can get hold of a Pensieve, it should be all right. I can just remove memories I don't want Malfoy to see."
"I still think you're crazy." Ron narrowed his eyes. "What about Kingsley? Or one of the Aurors?"
"They're too busy, with all the trials ongoing, and all the witches and wizards claiming they were Imperiused. They won't have their Occlumency classes ready until the next year of recruits. Everyone wanting in this year has to have the basics down before starting."
"Right. Of course." Ron looked at Harry sympathetically. "You know, you could always wait and take Occlumency next September."
"Yeah, because I want my life on hold for another year."
~*~*~
"Potter!" Draco called across the courtyard. Honestly, did Potter ever go anywhere without the weasel? Potter turned around. "We need to talk."
"Piss off, Malfoy," the weasel said.
"Eloquent as always, Weasley."
"It's okay," Potter told his sidekick. "He's right."
"You're not actually considering --?" The weasel whispered so loudly the entire school could hear. Draco couldn't hear Potter's response.
"Potter!" Weasley made a rude gesture in Draco's direction. Draco rolled his eyes. "This century would be preferable."
"I'll see you later," Potter told Weasley, and he walked over to join Draco.
"I have a proposition," Draco said. Potter quirked a brow. Oh, for fuck's sake, not -- "I mean I have a solution to your problem."
Potter smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. Did he think that made him look intimidating? "Do tell," he said.
"Shall we discuss this elsewhere?" Draco asked, aware that Potter drew a crowd wherever he went. This was a conversation he didn't want anyone listening to.
Potter hesitated, then grinned. Draco failed to see what was so amusing. Potter motioned towards the door. "Lead the way."
Draco led the way out the Great Hall, through the front doors and across to the Black Lake.
Potter cast a Muffliato before asking, "So, you said you had some sort of solution for me?"
"You've talked to McGonagall, I presume," Draco said. Potter nodded in agreement. "She tells me you need Occlumency lessons."
"Yeah," Potter said. "I never could master it, even when Snape was teaching me."
"Professor Snape taught you Occlumency?"
"He tried. It was pretty much a disaster."
Draco could only imagine. It was a very personal thing, allowing someone into your mind. Had he not had some initial training by his mother at a young age, he'd never have withstood the intensity of his Aunt Bella rattling around in his head. He shuddered. "I can't imagine it was much fun for you," he said.
Potter stared at him as though he'd grown a second head. "No, it wasn't."
"Did you learn anything?"
Potter's eyes took on a distant look and his face hardened. "Not really."
"Well, I'd be willing to teach you Occlumency if you teach me how to become an Animagus."
Potter scowled. "What are you talking about?"
"You are a registered Animagus." Potter's face reddened. "It's a matter of public record."
"Thanks to McGonagall," Potter grumbled. Did Draco detect dissention in the Gryffindor ranks? How wonderful.
"That's my offer," Draco said. "Take it or leave it." Potter didn't need to know that Draco didn't have any bargaining power. It was all about perception.
Potter held out his hand. "Done."
Draco was so shocked that it took him a moment to register the proffered hand. He reached out, like so many years before, only this time they shook. Draco couldn't help but smile.
December, 1998
Harry's head reeled as he collapsed, yet again.
"Honestly, Potter," Malfoy chided. "It's not that difficult."
Harry rubbed his temples. "Piss off," he said. He'd hoped that Occlumency would be easier now without a piece of Voldemort running around inside his head. Much to his dismay, however, it seemed Harry might need to choose another career path.
"I thought you wanted to be an Auror."
Harry growled. "Not helping, Malfoy."
"You know you have to master Occlumency before they'll accept you into the program."
Harry's head throbbed. "Still not helping."
"Fine." Malfoy riffled through his rucksack and took out a quill and parchment. "We can move on to my lesson now."
Harry wanted to tell him to get stuffed, but he couldn't muster the strength. Besides, it was only fair. Malfoy had been trying, unsuccessfully, for the past two hours to teach Harry to close his mind. The least Harry could do was keep up his end of the bargain.
"Could we grab some supper first?" Harry asked. Malfoy scowled. "I can ask Kreacher to bring us something here."
Malfoy looked at him incredulously. "It figures, you would have a personal servant at school."
Harry grinned and called Kreacher.
He knew he shouldn't be pleased, but by the time they'd finished their meal and spent a couple of hours on Malfoy's Animagus lessons, Harry couldn't help but feel vindicated. Malfoy wasn't any further ahead than Harry.
~*~*~
Draco wanted to scream. All this work and they were getting nowhere. Potter was worse than useless at Occlumency, or so it seemed. Draco hadn't managed to see anything incriminating in Potter's head; he supposed Potter wasn't as stupid as he seemed. He at least had the sense to remove some memories to a Pensieve before each of their sessions. Oh, what he'd give to see those.
Draco took a sip of water before gathering up his rucksack in frustration. They'd been at it for a month, and he was no closer to becoming an Animagus than he was the first day.
That wasn't true, strictly speaking. He'd had that one day when he felt a tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach. Potter had laughed at him, insisting it was indigestion from eating too much pie, but Draco didn't think so. Unfortunately, that was the only time anything remotely interesting happened. At this rate, he'd never have his wish.
~*~*~
"I think it's about trust," Hermione said.
"What?"
"More to the point, I think it's about your lack of trust in each other. You didn't trust Snape and you don't trust Malfoy. And he doesn't trust you. First Snape, now Malfoy. It makes sense."
"So what do you suggest?"
"Try to relax around him."
Harry laughed. "Like that'll ever happen."
Hermione frowned and looked like she was winding up to chastise him like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar. "Why shouldn't it, Harry?" He shot her a sceptical glance. "No, really. The war is over and the two of you have a chance to help each other out. Why not make the most of it?"
"And how do you propose I do that? Just tell myself it's okay to trust a git that's made my life hell ever since I started at this school?"
"He also saved our lives," she pointed out. Harry pondered her words. Her self-satisfied, smug expression wasn't helping.
"Any suggestions?"
"How about you get to know him?" Harry groaned. This could be a long year.
~*~*~
"Hermione figures that our lack of trust in each other might be the reason we can't manage this," Potter said.
Draco hated to admit it, but Granger was probably right. He frowned. "I doubt it helps that this castle holds too many bad memories for us," he added.
"Good point," Potter said. "Then again, it's not like we actually have any good memories between us, here or anywhere else."
Idiot. Draco ignored his remark and asked, "So what do you propose we do?"
"We could go to the Shrieking Shack," Potter suggested.
"Where Snape died?"
"Oh, right," Potter said. He paled as though watching their former professor bleed to death right in front of him. "Scratch that."
"We've got many rooms at the Manor," Draco suggested.
Potter raised his brows as if to say, Are you out of your fucking mind? "Right," Draco retracted. He'd spent months recovering from the Dark Lord's presence, and it was his ancestral home. He could hardly expect someone who'd only been there during the war to understand. "Never mind."
"There's always Grimmauld Place."
"The old Black residence?"
"Yeah, it's mine now."
Draco narrowed his eyes. "So I've heard." His Aunt Bella had been livid when she'd found out. Nearly screamed the house down. Draco smiled inwardly at the thought.
"Think about it. We never fought there, no one died or was tortured in front of either of us there, and it's off school property," Potter went on. "I say it's perfect."
"Perfect?"
"Well, it's a complete disaster, dark, dreary, and barely habitable, but it's neutral."
"I suppose it's worth a try."
Potter shrugged. "Can't get much worse."
~*~*~
Surprisingly, McGonagall did not put up a fuss when they told her their plans, though they left out any mention of Animagus lessons. They were eighteen, after all, and there wasn't much she could do to prevent them leaving. They were permitted use of the Floo in and out of school for their lessons. When she commended them on working together on a solution, Harry noticed Malfoy's face turn red.
They set out the following day to Grimmauld Place.
"You have got to be joking!" Malfoy said after inspecting the main floor. "You cannot actually expect me to work in this place."
Harry felt a mingling of anger and embarrassment. "Er ..."
"I thought you had a house-elf."
"I do, but --"
"Get him working at once!"
"Listen, Malfoy, you don't need to be ordering me around."
Malfoy waved his wand and all the drapes flew open, sending dust and dust mites floating around the room. The sunlight that shone in accentuated the layer of grime on the windows and dirt on the floor. "You were saying?"
Right. "Kreacher!"
~*~*~
Draco could not believe the state of disrepair. The house was hardly fit for an elf, never mind a human. His heart sank as he imagined his mother stepping foot inside the place - a Black family home. And Potter lived here?
After Potter called the elf back from Hogwarts, Kreacher happily tidied up. Well, he tried. After a week with very little progress, Draco borrowed an elf from the Manor and set her to work with Kreacher. After a short period of adjustment, they'd managed to bring the place to a near-habitable state.
Draco and Potter hadn't done a single lesson in the three weeks they'd been coming to Grimmauld, but neither of them seemed to care. Draco found he'd come to enjoy Potter's company, though he still wasn't sure how that had happened. Perhaps a desperate desire for human contact had lowered his standards. Or perhaps, away from the school, free from house rivalry and keeping up appearances, they were able to be themselves.
For his part, Draco had felt alive again, like he was doing something constructive. He took great pride in directing the elves, and in many cases, Potter. One time, after a particularly constructive day, Potter had called him on it.
"You like ordering people around, don't you?" he'd said, skin glistening with sweat and slightly out of breath. A good look on him. "You like ordering me around."
Detecting no malice in his tone, Draco had responded honestly. "Yes, I believe I do." Potter had laughed heartily. Also a good look. "Can you blame me?" Draco had asked. "It's not every day one has his own hero to order about." Potter had stopped laughing and just stared then. "And you do take orders so well," Draco had finished.
Potter's eyes had flashed and he'd looked almost predatory for a moment. When Draco had met his gaze, Potter had retreated, claiming thirst.
Potter seemed to enjoy the manual labour. He said it made him feel alive. And Draco enjoyed watching Potter. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought he might have enjoyed that particular activity since about fourth year. Yes, ever since he'd watched Potter fight the dragon during the Triwizard Tournament. Of course, he would challenge anyone not to get turned on by that sight. Fortunately, he'd been saved the humiliation of swooning after Potter every time the git had opened his mouth.
Only now that didn't seem to stop him falling. Shit. How had that happened?
"Thanks, Malfoy," Potter said on their third Saturday. They'd just given the house a fresh coat of paint to brighten it up. Draco had chosen the colours - soft enough to lend some light to the dreary place, yet still masculine. The only room that had been off-limits was Potter's godfather's room - the one that looked as though a Gryffindor mascot had thrown up all over the place, spewing red and gold everywhere. "The place looks incredible."
"It does, doesn't it?" Draco said, pleased with himself, but even more pleased that Potter liked it. Draco really needed to get out more. Spend time with some like-minded wizards. Shrewd and calculating. Ones that weren't all noble and righteous and ... rubbing off on him. His face flushed as his thoughts wandered.
Potter chose that moment to look at Draco, and the instant their eyes locked, Potter's went from sparkling to hungry. Draco's breath hitched and he couldn't move. Merlin, his mind must be playing tricks on him, because Potter seemed to be coming closer.
Potter's hand reached up and brushed some stray hair out of Draco's face. Draco couldn't help but lean into the touch. His cheek burned where it met Potter's hand. He wasn't imagining this. It was really happening. Potter ran his free hand through Draco's hair, then cupped his face and pressed the softest of kisses on Draco's lips. "Thank you," he said.
Draco frowned. He didn't want thanks; he wanted Potter to want him. He pulled back slightly, though Potter still held on. "What for?"
"For everything. For helping me with Occlumency, for helping me with the house, for giving me a way to escape."
Draco ground his teeth together and he felt his jaw tighten. Stupid, stupid, stupid! How could he have been so thick? Potter didn't care about him. Potter just saw him as --
"Hey," Potter said, running his thumbs over Draco's jaw line. "Don't do that."
Draco stepped back, out of reach. "You don't have to thank me. Not like ..." He let the thought hang and retreated to the kitchen. He poured himself some chilled water from the fridge, just to give himself something to do.
Predictably, Potter followed. Draco didn't react fast enough and before he knew it, he was pinned against the counter, Potter at his back. "Hey," Potter repeated. "You think too much."
Draco twisted around to face him. "What are you doing, Potter?"
"Something I've wanted to do for weeks now," he said. "Something I thought you might want too."
Draco's heart raced. He hadn't dared to hope. "For weeks?" he asked.
Potter smiled and his eyes sparkled. Draco thought he might like to see that again. A lot. Especially when that look was directed at him. "Weeks," he said, the longing in his voice palpable. "Maybe longer."
"Oh," Draco said, anything more coherent escaping him as Potter's mouth claimed his, and Draco was lost.
~*~*~
Harry couldn't believe it. He was kissing Malfoy. Draco. He'd felt himself growing closer to Draco ever since they'd first come to Grimmauld Place. Harry had watched that veneer so securely wrapped around him slowly unravel. As layer after layer peeled away to reveal an unguarded soul, Harry knew he was in trouble.
He'd come to look forward to every smile, smart-arse remark, and order that Draco gave him. Harry lapped it all up and went back for more. At some point this past week, he'd realised that he'd fallen for Draco, but had no idea what to do about it.
Then the other day, that look Draco had given him when he talked about having his own hero. It was too much. Harry couldn't tell if Draco's teasing felt like more because of his own wishful thinking. He'd barely stopped himself from kissing him even then.
But this was really happening. He was kissing Draco, and Draco was kissing him back. Harry couldn't get enough of the taste of Draco, the feel of his tongue wrapping around Harry's and teasing him. He felt Draco's hands move slowly down his back, drawing their chests closer. Then his hands grasped Harry's arse and pulled him in. Even through the layers of clothing, Draco's erection felt like heaven against Harry's own, hard and wanting.
Merlin, how he wanted Draco. Had wanted him without even realising it. Sure, he'd noticed how attractive Malfoy was before, but then he'd open his mouth and ... that was enough to make Harry forget any attraction to him. But not now. Not now that they'd spent time together, got to know each other, let down their guard. Now there was no turning back.
Their kiss lingered, at times slow and patient, like they had all the time in the world to map out every detail. At other times, it grew passionate and hurried, almost like they were afraid someone would wake them from a dream.
Hands clinging to Draco's hair, Harry reluctantly drew back, placing soft kisses on Draco's temple, along his cheeks, and down to his Adam's apple.
"Wow," Harry said.
Draco smiled, his cheeks flushed and eyes glazed. "Mm."
~*~*~
They returned to the school and arranged to spend the next day together at Grimmauld Place. The Hogwarts Express would head back to London for the holidays on Monday, so it would be their last chance to spend time together before the break.
As Draco lied down in his bed, he realised he didn't have a gift to give Harry for Christmas. Panic gave way to a plan. He grinned. They'd just have to get together over the break.
When they arrived at Grimmauld Place, Harry wasted no time. He grabbed Draco's hand and pulled him in for a searing kiss. "Needed to be sure it wasn't a dream," he said. Draco's chest warmed at the thought. He could hardly believe this was happening, never mind that Harry was insecure about it. Of course, Draco was a catch and he knew it. So did Harry, obviously. Now, if only the rest of the country could see things that way.
"Hey," Harry said. He said that a lot. "What are you thinking about?"
"Nothing."
"For a Slytherin, you're a lousy liar."
Draco raised a hand to his chest in mock indignation. "I will have you know I am a most accomplished liar. I just choose not to exercise that skill with you."
Harry chuckled and pulled him forward for another kiss. "Good."
"Shall I get us a cup of tea?" Draco asked. They hadn't arranged for Kreacher today, so they could have some privacy.
"Tea would be great," Harry said. "I'll gather the last of the rubbish from upstairs. I seem to have got distracted yesterday and forgot."
Draco shooed him away and went into the kitchen. As he filled the kettle and got the tea and mugs out of the cupboard, he was hit with the realisation that this felt like home. He shook his head and brushed away the ridiculous thought. He and Harry had only kissed for the first time yesterday, and here he was getting all domestic.
Merlin, he was a Hufflepuff. He needed to do something about that straight away. Harry chose that moment to return, wrap his arms around Draco from behind, and nuzzle his neck. All thoughts of doing anything at all besides this melted away. Harry nibbled his shoulder and peppered kisses along his collarbone and up his neck. Harry brushed Draco's hair off his neck and stopped.
"What's that?" he asked. Harry remained behind him, but he'd stopped that delicious kissing. He really needed to resume that. Now.
"Harry," Draco grumbled. "Don't stop now."
He ran a finger over the back of Draco's neck. "What's this?"
Draco slowly turned to face Harry. "It's a tattoo."
"That much I gathered."
"So why the question?"
"It's moving!"
Draco tapped Harry's cheek. "Of course it's moving; it's a wizard tattoo."
Harry trailed his hand down Draco's left arm, and let his fingers graze his Dark Mark. "This one isn't," he said.
Draco turned around, angry at being reminded of it. "Not any more."
His glare hadn't fazed Harry who kept caressing the Mark. "I'm glad. I'd heard that some Death Eaters --"
"It's true. That's what the other tattoo is for," Draco said. The Dark Lord hadn't been satisfied with subjecting his willing - and not so willing, Draco thought with resentment - followers to the pain and suffering his brand had caused. No. "It's to protect me against the residual magic of the Dark Mark. The Celtic knot is for general protection, and the snake is, well ... self-explanatory."
Harry lifted Draco's arm to his lips and he kissed away the ghost. "I'm glad," Harry repeated, and he kissed his way up Draco's arm, to his neck, over his jaw and finally he reached his lips. "I don't want anyone or anything to hurt you, ever again."
Draco pulled Harry into a fierce kiss, pouring his heart and soul into it. He hadn't ever imagined wanting someone so badly, wanting someone to want him, to protect him. Not since he was a boy had he felt protected, and even then it wasn't like this.
But how was it possible? How could this man have become so important to Draco in such a short time?
"You're thinking too much again," Harry said.
"I want you," Draco said.
Harry smiled. "I want you too."
"Now, Harry," Draco said. "I want you now."
"Are you sure?"
"As I've never been before in my life."
Harry's smile turned feral. "Fuck."
"Mm."
They stumbled up the stairs to Harry's room, and once there, they began desperately clawing at each other's clothes. Breaking apart only to relieve themselves of barriers between them, at last they collapsed onto the bed, naked and needy.
"Gorgeous," Harry said as he manoeuvred himself between Draco's legs. He slid his lips over Draco's chest, licking and nibbling his way to first one then the other nipple. Draco hissed when Harry took one into his mouth and sucked. Harry moved down, swirling his tongue over Draco's ribs, around his bellybutton and then, cruelly, ignoring what was most in need of his touch.
Harry eased his arms under Draco's knees and lifted them to reveal his most private spot. He breathed gently and Draco tensed. "Relax," Harry said.
Draco tried, really he did, but then Harry's tongue did something unexpected and fabulous, and Draco came undone. Harry flattened his tongue and licked a path, back and forth across his needy entrance. Then he teased Draco's hole with the tip of his tongue and Draco tensed, his hips lifting off the bed. Harry chuckled but rested his hand on Draco's stomach, rubbing calming circles over his flesh. Just as Draco relaxed, Harry thrust his tongue inside, causing Draco to squirm. Harry continued his torture until Draco couldn't take any more, and he dragged Harry forward by the hair.
"Need you inside me now, Potter."
Harry smiled, hungry and a bit wild. Fuck that was sexy as all hell. "Accio lube," he called, and a tube came flying into Harry's hand. He looked down at Draco. "Are you sure?"
"If you don't fuck me now, Potter, you may never get another chance," Draco said. He didn't mean it, of course, but Harry didn't know that.
"I'll take that as a yes," Harry said as he slathered the viscous contents onto his fingers, and spread a liberal amount around Draco's arse. Draco's cock was hard and leaking now, and he needed to feel Harry inside him. Harry took his time preparing Draco, stretching him gently before fucking him with one, two, then three fingers, all the while peppering kisses along Draco's thighs.
"Enough," Draco said, desperate for more, needing to feel the fullness that only Harry's cock could bring.
Harry coated his penis with lube, then lined up the head with Draco's entrance. He pressed past the ring and slowly in, pulling back gently and pushing forward again, letting Draco's reactions be his guide, until he was fully seated. Draco breathed heavily while adjusting to the pressure.
"Move," Draco said when he was ready. Harry didn't need telling twice. He pulled back and thrust in, restrained at first, then growing in intensity. Harry linked the fingers of one hand through Draco's and clung to him. Draco reached for his own prick with his free hand and began pumping in time with Harry's thrusts. Before long, Draco felt his balls tighten, and his hand and stomach were coated with his release. Harry continued for a dozen more strokes before he was coming too, coating Draco's channel with his come, Draco's name tumbling from his lips.
Harry grinned down at Draco. "Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are?" He kissed Draco, barely a brush of the lips. "Thank you," Harry said.
"For what?" Draco asked.
"For letting me in." He laid his hand on Draco's chest. "Here."
~*~*~
They drifted off for a couple of hours, and when they awoke, snuggled together and in desperate need of a shower, they got up and washed.
"Try now," Draco said as he handed Harry a mug of tea. "Unless you don't want to without the Pensieve."
"No, I'm good. There's nothing I wouldn't trust you to see." As the words spilled forth, Harry knew them to be true. He also knew that he could share something else with Draco.
As Draco said, "Legilimens," Harry felt the walls surround his mind, protecting his thoughts. He'd done it, finally. He grinned at Draco. "We did it."
A few more times and it was Draco's turn.
"I have something to show you first," Harry said. He handed Draco the journal.
"This would have come in handy before," Draco said, frowning slightly.
Harry bit his bottom lip nervously. "I know, but I've never shared this with anyone. No one but the Ministry official and Andromeda even knows it exists."
"Not even Weasley and Granger?" Draco asked.
Harry shook his head. "Nope. It was something I wasn't ready to share. Something that was just mine."
Draco caressed the book with his fingers, a pleased but hesitant look replacing his frown. "And now? You're ready to share?"
With a nod and a grin, Harry said confidently, "Only with you."
~*~*~
January 1999
"Why did you want to become an Animagus?" Draco asked several weeks later. "So you could be like your dad and Sirius?"
"Maybe at first," Harry said. "But then it was for the escape. I wanted to be able to fade to nothing, even when surrounded by others. How about you?"
"The same," Draco said, "only different. I wanted to escape too, but for the opposite reason. I wanted to be with others, even when I was nothing."
Harry's eyes flared. "You're not nothing."
"I know," Draco agreed. "But I was nothing to them. Alone in a crowd."
Harry was about to embrace Draco when he was stopped short with a glare. Right. No comforting the brooding Slytherin. He tried another tactic. "What say you, Draco, are you ready for this?"
"Absolutely."
As Harry felt himself transform, he marvelled at the beauty that was Draco in flight. An eagle, majestic, soaring above the world. He couldn't imagine a more fitting transformation.
~ FIN ~
This entry was originally posted at http://sesheta-66.dreamwidth.org/380775.html. Feel free to reply on either post.
Author: sesheta_66
Beta: alaana_fair
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~ 7K
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Summary: In order to join the post-war Auror training programme, Harry must learn Occlumency. When faced with the choice of learning it now from an unlikely source he's not sure he wants seeing his thoughts, or putting his life on hold for another year, Harry finds himself caught between a rock and a hard place. Can he and Draco really put the past behind them, move forward and help each other, or is this a disaster waiting to happen?
A/N: Originally written for sully86 at serpentinelion's Glompfest.
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Alone in a Crowd
by Sesheta
June, 1998
Harry held the journal reverently in his hands. Remus had named him in his will, as Teddy's godfather, as trustee of his modest estate, and as the recipient of this one item, more valuable than all the gold in his Gringott's account. His stomach fluttered and his hands shook as he opened the cover.
This journal belongs to
James Potter
and Sirius Black
Harry carried the book with him everywhere, though he never took it out in front of anyone. He never told anyone what was in it. As he and Andromeda were the only beneficiaries named in Remus' will, no one else had heard about the journal. And with the number of dead after the war, no one much cared to investigate the contents of wills that didn't contain substantial value.
Harry kept this for himself. No one else. And as he stepped out into the back garden at Grimmauld Place, he envisioned what he wanted to be, and as the ground rose up to meet him and his large, grey paws clawed at the earth, he felt closer to his father and godfather than he'd ever imagined possible.
~*~*~
Draco smiled and nodded, made polite conversation, and graciously accepted the offered gifts. He'd always loved his birthdays, mainly because his mother doted on him. This year, though no exception in that respect, felt different.
Of course, everything was different. The war had ended, peace of a sort had been restored, and most of the Dark Lord's followers were dead or incarcerated. Thankfully, his father fell into the latter category. Though Draco had wanted to visit him today, his father had insisted - in a rare show of altruism - that he not tarnish the memory of the day by attending Azkaban. He'd felt a mixture of relief and guilt because, though Dementors no longer guarded the prison, it remained a dank and dreary place.
The weight of his own and his mother's upcoming trials upon him, Draco forced a smile, sipped his whisky, and allowed the presence of his friends to warm him.
September, 1998
The ride to Hogwarts felt strange this year. People stared and whispered behind his back, but Harry was used to that - everywhere he went it was the same. The train remained as always, as did the trolly and the hum of excited voices returning to school, or eagerly awaiting their first glimpse of the castle.
But Harry had changed. The world went on around him while he became ... whoever he was now. The lost school year had aged him, as had the war and all it entailed. Ron and Hermione, though regular guests at Grimmauld, had gone on with their lives as a couple, and Harry didn't much fancy being a third wheel, even when they insisted he wasn't. Things hadn't worked out with Ginny, but that was okay. She and Neville seemed well-suited and genuinely happy together.
Harry had no idea what the year ahead held for him, but he knew one thing: the anticipation, the joy, the wonder of school was no more. He wasn't sorry to be returning, but he was anxious to move on with his life. Sadly, not even fighting a war exempted one from the NEWT requirement for Auror training. So he rode with his friends into Scotland, to the castle that had once been his home, but now felt foreign.
~*~*~
Draco enjoyed a cabin to himself. Not really a surprise, considering he was the only Slytherin in his year to return. Some of his classmates had received tutoring over the summer, and were planning to continue their studies that way until they could sit their NEWTs during a special session scheduled for the winter. Others, like Pansy and Blaise, chose to complete their classes at other schools. About half the year, including Greg, decided that they'd had enough schooling, and their OWLs would be enough. More likely, they knew no matter how many NEWTs they received, they'd still be pariahs, so what was the point?
Narcissa Malfoy, however, had insisted Draco finish up his schooling at Hogwarts. He'd been surprised that the Headmistress would accept him after the unfortunate incident in sixth year. But what had secured his return was the appearance of none other than the Chosen Hero at Draco's trial.
Draco had expected Potter to testify for his mother. He also knew that his father could expect no such thing. When Potter had shown up at Draco's trial, he'd not only been surprised but worried. His mother had reassured him, but not until he heard Potter tell the court that Draco had saved him and his sidekicks did he allow himself to believe he might remain out of prison.
So, without a friend in sight, but not necessarily alone, Draco had boarded the Hogwarts Express for his eighth year.
October, 1998
Harry sniffed around the foliage at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Back at Grimmauld Place, the scents of nature had been masked by buildings, asphalt, and pollution. Here in the Scottish countryside, he found himself on olfactory overload. It was glorious!
He nudged his way through the brush into the deeper parts of the wood, still cautious, given the beasts that remained within. The final battle had devastated much of the forest, but the wildlife within it had remained strong. An impulsive Gryffindor he might be, but Harry had faced death enough, thank you very much. Like the third Peverell brother, Harry planned to face death as an old man.
"Stupefy!"
Harry saw a red flash of light, then he toppled from all fours onto his side as everything faded to black.
"Potter?" Harry heard McGonagall's voice in the distance. "Potter!" she called again as he slowly began to wake. "Rennervate!
"Professor?" Harry got to his hands and knees - what had happened to his paws? - and eventually stood up. "What happened?"
"What happened is that some second years reported a large grey wolf on the grounds." Uh oh. "That's right, Mr Potter. And since I happen to know of no grey wolf packs in the vicinity, I had my suspicions."
"I wasn't doing anything."
"You are an unregistered Animagus, a situation that I expect to remedy before day's end. No matter who you are or what privileges you may feel yourself entitled to," she said in a manner reminiscent of Snape, "I assure you, this will have consequences."
"I ... I just wanted to escape. To be left alone," he said.
"I'm sure I can find a classroom where you can be just that. But for now, my office."
~*~*~
Had he been told two years ago that he'd have a room to himself at Hogwarts, Draco would have been ecstatic. After nearly two months, though, he felt unbearably alone.
His name and reputation earned him solitude, whether students avoided him out of fear, anger, or hatred. Those same students, however, forgot their fears when they saw him out of school. Especially when they travelled in packs.
Draco didn't go to Hogsmeade any more. He rarely left the dungeons. If only he could escape. Be with people.
November, 1998
"Harry, I expect you to set an example," McGonagall said. Honestly, why couldn't he just go to school like everyone else? "Every returning student on probation must perform some community service as defined by the Wizengamot. Tutoring is one such example. Mr Malfoy has attempted to secure voluntary employment elsewhere, but has been unsuccessful. I thought you might assist in this regard."
Harry narrowed his eyes at his former Head of House and now Headmistress. "What do you expect me to do?" he asked, unable to stop the flow of incredulity forming itself into words. "I think you overestimate my influence."
She pursed her lips in that annoying way she had. Then her lip quivered and she rolled her eyes. "You actually believe that, don't you?"
"I'm an eighteen-year-old taking classes to get into the Auror program. My purpose was served. I'm done. Everyone is moving on."
"Harry," she said, her voice softer. "You have more power than you know."
He raised his brows sceptically. "Then why are we back here at school, even after everything we did during the war? You'd think someone with so much power could bypass his NEWTs."
She fixed him with a sharp look. "Petulance does not suit you, Potter. I suggest you drop it." He gaped at her, eyes wide. She grinned and nodded in satisfaction. "You are partially correct, however. Your celebrity will get you nothing here."
"What a novel concept," a familiar voice drawled. Harry looked up to see Snape's portrait sneering down at him. Smug bastard.
McGonagall pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose, as though in pain. "Thank you, Severus. Is that all?"
"Hardly," he said. "I plan to enjoy watching Potter help Draco. Or rather attempt to help him. And fail, naturally. I simply can't imagine what he would have to offer Draco."
"Actually," McGonagall said, ignoring Snape's jibe and returning her attention to Harry, "Mr Malfoy will be helping you."
Harry blinked, confused. "Excuse me?"
"New standards for the Auror program require recruits to be trained in Occlumency prior to the commencement of training," she said. "Surely you knew about that."
"Er."
Snape snorted. "As prepared as ever." He looked gleeful, though thankfully his lack of corporeal form made him rather less intimidating. Harry glared at the portrait. Death clearly hadn't done much for Snape's temperament.
"Mr Malfoy is an accomplished Occlumens, and I have asked him to tutor you."
Harry looked up at Snape's satisfied smirk. His shoulders shook and he looked like he would burst into laughter at any moment. Harry's mind whirled back to the disastrous Occlumency lessons with the man. All his most intimate thoughts and memories flashing before Snape's eyes. And now McGonagall expected him to do the same with Malfoy of all people?
"No."
"Excuse me?"
"I said no. I've been through that before." He looked pointedly at Snape. "I'll not subject myself to that again."
"You say that as though you had a choice, Mr Potter." Snape chuckled. Harry looked around for something heavy to pitch at him.
"You're saying I don't?"
"Of course I'm not saying that." McGonagall leaned back in her chair, fingers forming a steeple on her desk. "You may choose a different career path."
"But --"
"But this is your choice. Draco teaches you Occlumency. He is the best in the school."
"I could look outside the school."
"I'm sure Potter would love to have his adoring fans see his innermost thoughts," Snape said. "No doubt the queue would be endless."
"And you mustn't forget about the press," McGonagall added.
Shit. They were right. He hated when Snape was right. "And Malfoy would be so much better why?"
"Because if he is to remain a student at this school, he will keep your confidence. Besides, Mr Potter, he needs you," McGonagall said. Snape coughed. "You need each other. Also, it would do well to mend fences between Gryffindor and Slytherin, and who better to represent each house."
"I'll think about it," Harry grumbled.
~*~*~
"Mr Malfoy," McGonagall said. "Have a seat." She motioned to a chair, then sat behind her desk. She said nothing for a few moments, no doubt to make him uncomfortable, as she flipped through some pages in a file folder. Draco took the time to look round at the portraits of the former Headmasters and frowned; Snape's was noticeably absent.
"According to your trial report," she said, "you are required to complete a significant number of community service hours in the next ten months." He cringed. He'd managed to escape Azkaban for letting the Death Eaters into Hogwarts, but the charges hadn't been dropped entirely. Now he had to do Merlin-knew-what before he could move on with his life. "Have you given thought to what you might do to satisfy the Wizengamot's requirement?"
"Yes, Professor." Of course he had. He'd thought of little else since the trial. He'd thought he might escape the dread of it, at least while at school, but obviously it wasn't meant to be.
"And what have you decided?"
Truth was, he'd had nightmares about what might happen to a Death Eater's son sent to work ... well, anywhere, really. People were sure to make him pay for much more than he'd personally been responsible for.
"Ah," she said. "I thought perhaps you might struggle with a reasonable solution. I am aware that you have been unable to secure employment."
Did she have a point? He looked around the room, wondering how many of the trinkets scattered about were an homage to Dumbledore. He managed to contain his irritation. Clearly he would have to take the initiative if he were going to return to the Slytherin common room sometime this term. "Did you have a suggestion, perhaps?" If so, do get on with it. "Professor," he added with a smile.
"As a matter of fact, I do."
Shocking. No, really. Do share. He raised his brows.
"The Wizengamot has agreed, for those witches and wizards that were underage at the time of their ... misdeeds, to accept school-related service towards your hours." She smiled. Well, she'd stopped looking at Draco in that way she always did, eyes narrowed, lips pursed. He supposed it was as close as she'd get to smiling at a student that wasn't from her house.
His mind tried to work out what nightmarish tasks she would enjoy doling out to him. He envisioned night-time foraging for creepy-crawlies in the Forbidden Forest. Or working with that oaf, Hagrid, and his killer creatures. Or worse ... Filch. He shuddered. "What sort of school-related service?" he asked.
She pursed her lips and stared right through him. Nothing new there. "Well," she said as she perused his file again. "I see that your marks are strong."
He frowned, confused. "Yes?"
"And you did have some schooling - such that it was - last year." He recalled some of his classes. They were right to require students to return. "I thought perhaps you could tutor a student or two, maybe help out the professors with lessons from time to time, that sort of thing."
That was it? She wanted him to teach? He glanced at Snape's currently empty portrait and recalled how miserable he'd always claimed to be, destined to teach brats for a lifetime. How fitting for Draco to follow in his mentor's shoes.
~*~*~
"It's not bloody fair!" Ron bellowed. Harry smiled, glad Ron was on his side. "The ferret doesn't deserve any help."
Hermione cleared her throat. "Did you forget what he did for Harry during the war?"
"He didn't do a thing," Ron snapped.
"You know that's not true," she argued.
"He said he didn't know who Harry was."
She shot Harry a look, then turned to Ron with a glare. "He knew exactly who we were, Harry included. He saved us."
"Didn't stop his crazy aunt torturing you, did he?"
Hermione shuddered. "Bellatrix killed many witches and wizards, Aurors included. What chance did Draco have, surrounded by Death Eaters - including his father, in case you've forgotten - to stop her? There was nothing he could do. But when it mattered most, he protected Harry. I think he deserves to have a fresh start. Don't you agree, Harry?"
"Er ..." Harry did agree, but that didn't mean he wanted Malfoy rummaging around in his head. Especially now.
"Have you forgotten about Bill?" Ron asked.
"No." She pursed her lips. "But Bill seems to have moved on." She stood up and collected her books. "I suggest you do the same." She turned a hopeful look on Harry. "Consider it, Harry. I think McGonagall's right. About everything."
They watched her go to her dorm, her words lingering.
"'Course she thinks McGonagall's right," Ron grumbled. "She always thinks teachers are right."
"She's got a point, though," Harry said.
"You're not actually considering this, mate?"
Harry nodded. "I don't know that I have much choice. I don't think I can trust anyone else," he said.
"Are you mental?" Weasley whispered.
"Maybe." Harry recalled his lessons with Snape. "But if I can get hold of a Pensieve, it should be all right. I can just remove memories I don't want Malfoy to see."
"I still think you're crazy." Ron narrowed his eyes. "What about Kingsley? Or one of the Aurors?"
"They're too busy, with all the trials ongoing, and all the witches and wizards claiming they were Imperiused. They won't have their Occlumency classes ready until the next year of recruits. Everyone wanting in this year has to have the basics down before starting."
"Right. Of course." Ron looked at Harry sympathetically. "You know, you could always wait and take Occlumency next September."
"Yeah, because I want my life on hold for another year."
~*~*~
"Potter!" Draco called across the courtyard. Honestly, did Potter ever go anywhere without the weasel? Potter turned around. "We need to talk."
"Piss off, Malfoy," the weasel said.
"Eloquent as always, Weasley."
"It's okay," Potter told his sidekick. "He's right."
"You're not actually considering --?" The weasel whispered so loudly the entire school could hear. Draco couldn't hear Potter's response.
"Potter!" Weasley made a rude gesture in Draco's direction. Draco rolled his eyes. "This century would be preferable."
"I'll see you later," Potter told Weasley, and he walked over to join Draco.
"I have a proposition," Draco said. Potter quirked a brow. Oh, for fuck's sake, not -- "I mean I have a solution to your problem."
Potter smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. Did he think that made him look intimidating? "Do tell," he said.
"Shall we discuss this elsewhere?" Draco asked, aware that Potter drew a crowd wherever he went. This was a conversation he didn't want anyone listening to.
Potter hesitated, then grinned. Draco failed to see what was so amusing. Potter motioned towards the door. "Lead the way."
Draco led the way out the Great Hall, through the front doors and across to the Black Lake.
Potter cast a Muffliato before asking, "So, you said you had some sort of solution for me?"
"You've talked to McGonagall, I presume," Draco said. Potter nodded in agreement. "She tells me you need Occlumency lessons."
"Yeah," Potter said. "I never could master it, even when Snape was teaching me."
"Professor Snape taught you Occlumency?"
"He tried. It was pretty much a disaster."
Draco could only imagine. It was a very personal thing, allowing someone into your mind. Had he not had some initial training by his mother at a young age, he'd never have withstood the intensity of his Aunt Bella rattling around in his head. He shuddered. "I can't imagine it was much fun for you," he said.
Potter stared at him as though he'd grown a second head. "No, it wasn't."
"Did you learn anything?"
Potter's eyes took on a distant look and his face hardened. "Not really."
"Well, I'd be willing to teach you Occlumency if you teach me how to become an Animagus."
Potter scowled. "What are you talking about?"
"You are a registered Animagus." Potter's face reddened. "It's a matter of public record."
"Thanks to McGonagall," Potter grumbled. Did Draco detect dissention in the Gryffindor ranks? How wonderful.
"That's my offer," Draco said. "Take it or leave it." Potter didn't need to know that Draco didn't have any bargaining power. It was all about perception.
Potter held out his hand. "Done."
Draco was so shocked that it took him a moment to register the proffered hand. He reached out, like so many years before, only this time they shook. Draco couldn't help but smile.
December, 1998
Harry's head reeled as he collapsed, yet again.
"Honestly, Potter," Malfoy chided. "It's not that difficult."
Harry rubbed his temples. "Piss off," he said. He'd hoped that Occlumency would be easier now without a piece of Voldemort running around inside his head. Much to his dismay, however, it seemed Harry might need to choose another career path.
"I thought you wanted to be an Auror."
Harry growled. "Not helping, Malfoy."
"You know you have to master Occlumency before they'll accept you into the program."
Harry's head throbbed. "Still not helping."
"Fine." Malfoy riffled through his rucksack and took out a quill and parchment. "We can move on to my lesson now."
Harry wanted to tell him to get stuffed, but he couldn't muster the strength. Besides, it was only fair. Malfoy had been trying, unsuccessfully, for the past two hours to teach Harry to close his mind. The least Harry could do was keep up his end of the bargain.
"Could we grab some supper first?" Harry asked. Malfoy scowled. "I can ask Kreacher to bring us something here."
Malfoy looked at him incredulously. "It figures, you would have a personal servant at school."
Harry grinned and called Kreacher.
He knew he shouldn't be pleased, but by the time they'd finished their meal and spent a couple of hours on Malfoy's Animagus lessons, Harry couldn't help but feel vindicated. Malfoy wasn't any further ahead than Harry.
~*~*~
Draco wanted to scream. All this work and they were getting nowhere. Potter was worse than useless at Occlumency, or so it seemed. Draco hadn't managed to see anything incriminating in Potter's head; he supposed Potter wasn't as stupid as he seemed. He at least had the sense to remove some memories to a Pensieve before each of their sessions. Oh, what he'd give to see those.
Draco took a sip of water before gathering up his rucksack in frustration. They'd been at it for a month, and he was no closer to becoming an Animagus than he was the first day.
That wasn't true, strictly speaking. He'd had that one day when he felt a tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach. Potter had laughed at him, insisting it was indigestion from eating too much pie, but Draco didn't think so. Unfortunately, that was the only time anything remotely interesting happened. At this rate, he'd never have his wish.
~*~*~
"I think it's about trust," Hermione said.
"What?"
"More to the point, I think it's about your lack of trust in each other. You didn't trust Snape and you don't trust Malfoy. And he doesn't trust you. First Snape, now Malfoy. It makes sense."
"So what do you suggest?"
"Try to relax around him."
Harry laughed. "Like that'll ever happen."
Hermione frowned and looked like she was winding up to chastise him like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar. "Why shouldn't it, Harry?" He shot her a sceptical glance. "No, really. The war is over and the two of you have a chance to help each other out. Why not make the most of it?"
"And how do you propose I do that? Just tell myself it's okay to trust a git that's made my life hell ever since I started at this school?"
"He also saved our lives," she pointed out. Harry pondered her words. Her self-satisfied, smug expression wasn't helping.
"Any suggestions?"
"How about you get to know him?" Harry groaned. This could be a long year.
~*~*~
"Hermione figures that our lack of trust in each other might be the reason we can't manage this," Potter said.
Draco hated to admit it, but Granger was probably right. He frowned. "I doubt it helps that this castle holds too many bad memories for us," he added.
"Good point," Potter said. "Then again, it's not like we actually have any good memories between us, here or anywhere else."
Idiot. Draco ignored his remark and asked, "So what do you propose we do?"
"We could go to the Shrieking Shack," Potter suggested.
"Where Snape died?"
"Oh, right," Potter said. He paled as though watching their former professor bleed to death right in front of him. "Scratch that."
"We've got many rooms at the Manor," Draco suggested.
Potter raised his brows as if to say, Are you out of your fucking mind? "Right," Draco retracted. He'd spent months recovering from the Dark Lord's presence, and it was his ancestral home. He could hardly expect someone who'd only been there during the war to understand. "Never mind."
"There's always Grimmauld Place."
"The old Black residence?"
"Yeah, it's mine now."
Draco narrowed his eyes. "So I've heard." His Aunt Bella had been livid when she'd found out. Nearly screamed the house down. Draco smiled inwardly at the thought.
"Think about it. We never fought there, no one died or was tortured in front of either of us there, and it's off school property," Potter went on. "I say it's perfect."
"Perfect?"
"Well, it's a complete disaster, dark, dreary, and barely habitable, but it's neutral."
"I suppose it's worth a try."
Potter shrugged. "Can't get much worse."
~*~*~
Surprisingly, McGonagall did not put up a fuss when they told her their plans, though they left out any mention of Animagus lessons. They were eighteen, after all, and there wasn't much she could do to prevent them leaving. They were permitted use of the Floo in and out of school for their lessons. When she commended them on working together on a solution, Harry noticed Malfoy's face turn red.
They set out the following day to Grimmauld Place.
"You have got to be joking!" Malfoy said after inspecting the main floor. "You cannot actually expect me to work in this place."
Harry felt a mingling of anger and embarrassment. "Er ..."
"I thought you had a house-elf."
"I do, but --"
"Get him working at once!"
"Listen, Malfoy, you don't need to be ordering me around."
Malfoy waved his wand and all the drapes flew open, sending dust and dust mites floating around the room. The sunlight that shone in accentuated the layer of grime on the windows and dirt on the floor. "You were saying?"
Right. "Kreacher!"
~*~*~
Draco could not believe the state of disrepair. The house was hardly fit for an elf, never mind a human. His heart sank as he imagined his mother stepping foot inside the place - a Black family home. And Potter lived here?
After Potter called the elf back from Hogwarts, Kreacher happily tidied up. Well, he tried. After a week with very little progress, Draco borrowed an elf from the Manor and set her to work with Kreacher. After a short period of adjustment, they'd managed to bring the place to a near-habitable state.
Draco and Potter hadn't done a single lesson in the three weeks they'd been coming to Grimmauld, but neither of them seemed to care. Draco found he'd come to enjoy Potter's company, though he still wasn't sure how that had happened. Perhaps a desperate desire for human contact had lowered his standards. Or perhaps, away from the school, free from house rivalry and keeping up appearances, they were able to be themselves.
For his part, Draco had felt alive again, like he was doing something constructive. He took great pride in directing the elves, and in many cases, Potter. One time, after a particularly constructive day, Potter had called him on it.
"You like ordering people around, don't you?" he'd said, skin glistening with sweat and slightly out of breath. A good look on him. "You like ordering me around."
Detecting no malice in his tone, Draco had responded honestly. "Yes, I believe I do." Potter had laughed heartily. Also a good look. "Can you blame me?" Draco had asked. "It's not every day one has his own hero to order about." Potter had stopped laughing and just stared then. "And you do take orders so well," Draco had finished.
Potter's eyes had flashed and he'd looked almost predatory for a moment. When Draco had met his gaze, Potter had retreated, claiming thirst.
Potter seemed to enjoy the manual labour. He said it made him feel alive. And Draco enjoyed watching Potter. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought he might have enjoyed that particular activity since about fourth year. Yes, ever since he'd watched Potter fight the dragon during the Triwizard Tournament. Of course, he would challenge anyone not to get turned on by that sight. Fortunately, he'd been saved the humiliation of swooning after Potter every time the git had opened his mouth.
Only now that didn't seem to stop him falling. Shit. How had that happened?
"Thanks, Malfoy," Potter said on their third Saturday. They'd just given the house a fresh coat of paint to brighten it up. Draco had chosen the colours - soft enough to lend some light to the dreary place, yet still masculine. The only room that had been off-limits was Potter's godfather's room - the one that looked as though a Gryffindor mascot had thrown up all over the place, spewing red and gold everywhere. "The place looks incredible."
"It does, doesn't it?" Draco said, pleased with himself, but even more pleased that Potter liked it. Draco really needed to get out more. Spend time with some like-minded wizards. Shrewd and calculating. Ones that weren't all noble and righteous and ... rubbing off on him. His face flushed as his thoughts wandered.
Potter chose that moment to look at Draco, and the instant their eyes locked, Potter's went from sparkling to hungry. Draco's breath hitched and he couldn't move. Merlin, his mind must be playing tricks on him, because Potter seemed to be coming closer.
Potter's hand reached up and brushed some stray hair out of Draco's face. Draco couldn't help but lean into the touch. His cheek burned where it met Potter's hand. He wasn't imagining this. It was really happening. Potter ran his free hand through Draco's hair, then cupped his face and pressed the softest of kisses on Draco's lips. "Thank you," he said.
Draco frowned. He didn't want thanks; he wanted Potter to want him. He pulled back slightly, though Potter still held on. "What for?"
"For everything. For helping me with Occlumency, for helping me with the house, for giving me a way to escape."
Draco ground his teeth together and he felt his jaw tighten. Stupid, stupid, stupid! How could he have been so thick? Potter didn't care about him. Potter just saw him as --
"Hey," Potter said, running his thumbs over Draco's jaw line. "Don't do that."
Draco stepped back, out of reach. "You don't have to thank me. Not like ..." He let the thought hang and retreated to the kitchen. He poured himself some chilled water from the fridge, just to give himself something to do.
Predictably, Potter followed. Draco didn't react fast enough and before he knew it, he was pinned against the counter, Potter at his back. "Hey," Potter repeated. "You think too much."
Draco twisted around to face him. "What are you doing, Potter?"
"Something I've wanted to do for weeks now," he said. "Something I thought you might want too."
Draco's heart raced. He hadn't dared to hope. "For weeks?" he asked.
Potter smiled and his eyes sparkled. Draco thought he might like to see that again. A lot. Especially when that look was directed at him. "Weeks," he said, the longing in his voice palpable. "Maybe longer."
"Oh," Draco said, anything more coherent escaping him as Potter's mouth claimed his, and Draco was lost.
~*~*~
Harry couldn't believe it. He was kissing Malfoy. Draco. He'd felt himself growing closer to Draco ever since they'd first come to Grimmauld Place. Harry had watched that veneer so securely wrapped around him slowly unravel. As layer after layer peeled away to reveal an unguarded soul, Harry knew he was in trouble.
He'd come to look forward to every smile, smart-arse remark, and order that Draco gave him. Harry lapped it all up and went back for more. At some point this past week, he'd realised that he'd fallen for Draco, but had no idea what to do about it.
Then the other day, that look Draco had given him when he talked about having his own hero. It was too much. Harry couldn't tell if Draco's teasing felt like more because of his own wishful thinking. He'd barely stopped himself from kissing him even then.
But this was really happening. He was kissing Draco, and Draco was kissing him back. Harry couldn't get enough of the taste of Draco, the feel of his tongue wrapping around Harry's and teasing him. He felt Draco's hands move slowly down his back, drawing their chests closer. Then his hands grasped Harry's arse and pulled him in. Even through the layers of clothing, Draco's erection felt like heaven against Harry's own, hard and wanting.
Merlin, how he wanted Draco. Had wanted him without even realising it. Sure, he'd noticed how attractive Malfoy was before, but then he'd open his mouth and ... that was enough to make Harry forget any attraction to him. But not now. Not now that they'd spent time together, got to know each other, let down their guard. Now there was no turning back.
Their kiss lingered, at times slow and patient, like they had all the time in the world to map out every detail. At other times, it grew passionate and hurried, almost like they were afraid someone would wake them from a dream.
Hands clinging to Draco's hair, Harry reluctantly drew back, placing soft kisses on Draco's temple, along his cheeks, and down to his Adam's apple.
"Wow," Harry said.
Draco smiled, his cheeks flushed and eyes glazed. "Mm."
~*~*~
They returned to the school and arranged to spend the next day together at Grimmauld Place. The Hogwarts Express would head back to London for the holidays on Monday, so it would be their last chance to spend time together before the break.
As Draco lied down in his bed, he realised he didn't have a gift to give Harry for Christmas. Panic gave way to a plan. He grinned. They'd just have to get together over the break.
When they arrived at Grimmauld Place, Harry wasted no time. He grabbed Draco's hand and pulled him in for a searing kiss. "Needed to be sure it wasn't a dream," he said. Draco's chest warmed at the thought. He could hardly believe this was happening, never mind that Harry was insecure about it. Of course, Draco was a catch and he knew it. So did Harry, obviously. Now, if only the rest of the country could see things that way.
"Hey," Harry said. He said that a lot. "What are you thinking about?"
"Nothing."
"For a Slytherin, you're a lousy liar."
Draco raised a hand to his chest in mock indignation. "I will have you know I am a most accomplished liar. I just choose not to exercise that skill with you."
Harry chuckled and pulled him forward for another kiss. "Good."
"Shall I get us a cup of tea?" Draco asked. They hadn't arranged for Kreacher today, so they could have some privacy.
"Tea would be great," Harry said. "I'll gather the last of the rubbish from upstairs. I seem to have got distracted yesterday and forgot."
Draco shooed him away and went into the kitchen. As he filled the kettle and got the tea and mugs out of the cupboard, he was hit with the realisation that this felt like home. He shook his head and brushed away the ridiculous thought. He and Harry had only kissed for the first time yesterday, and here he was getting all domestic.
Merlin, he was a Hufflepuff. He needed to do something about that straight away. Harry chose that moment to return, wrap his arms around Draco from behind, and nuzzle his neck. All thoughts of doing anything at all besides this melted away. Harry nibbled his shoulder and peppered kisses along his collarbone and up his neck. Harry brushed Draco's hair off his neck and stopped.
"What's that?" he asked. Harry remained behind him, but he'd stopped that delicious kissing. He really needed to resume that. Now.
"Harry," Draco grumbled. "Don't stop now."
He ran a finger over the back of Draco's neck. "What's this?"
Draco slowly turned to face Harry. "It's a tattoo."
"That much I gathered."
"So why the question?"
"It's moving!"
Draco tapped Harry's cheek. "Of course it's moving; it's a wizard tattoo."
Harry trailed his hand down Draco's left arm, and let his fingers graze his Dark Mark. "This one isn't," he said.
Draco turned around, angry at being reminded of it. "Not any more."
His glare hadn't fazed Harry who kept caressing the Mark. "I'm glad. I'd heard that some Death Eaters --"
"It's true. That's what the other tattoo is for," Draco said. The Dark Lord hadn't been satisfied with subjecting his willing - and not so willing, Draco thought with resentment - followers to the pain and suffering his brand had caused. No. "It's to protect me against the residual magic of the Dark Mark. The Celtic knot is for general protection, and the snake is, well ... self-explanatory."
Harry lifted Draco's arm to his lips and he kissed away the ghost. "I'm glad," Harry repeated, and he kissed his way up Draco's arm, to his neck, over his jaw and finally he reached his lips. "I don't want anyone or anything to hurt you, ever again."
Draco pulled Harry into a fierce kiss, pouring his heart and soul into it. He hadn't ever imagined wanting someone so badly, wanting someone to want him, to protect him. Not since he was a boy had he felt protected, and even then it wasn't like this.
But how was it possible? How could this man have become so important to Draco in such a short time?
"You're thinking too much again," Harry said.
"I want you," Draco said.
Harry smiled. "I want you too."
"Now, Harry," Draco said. "I want you now."
"Are you sure?"
"As I've never been before in my life."
Harry's smile turned feral. "Fuck."
"Mm."
They stumbled up the stairs to Harry's room, and once there, they began desperately clawing at each other's clothes. Breaking apart only to relieve themselves of barriers between them, at last they collapsed onto the bed, naked and needy.
"Gorgeous," Harry said as he manoeuvred himself between Draco's legs. He slid his lips over Draco's chest, licking and nibbling his way to first one then the other nipple. Draco hissed when Harry took one into his mouth and sucked. Harry moved down, swirling his tongue over Draco's ribs, around his bellybutton and then, cruelly, ignoring what was most in need of his touch.
Harry eased his arms under Draco's knees and lifted them to reveal his most private spot. He breathed gently and Draco tensed. "Relax," Harry said.
Draco tried, really he did, but then Harry's tongue did something unexpected and fabulous, and Draco came undone. Harry flattened his tongue and licked a path, back and forth across his needy entrance. Then he teased Draco's hole with the tip of his tongue and Draco tensed, his hips lifting off the bed. Harry chuckled but rested his hand on Draco's stomach, rubbing calming circles over his flesh. Just as Draco relaxed, Harry thrust his tongue inside, causing Draco to squirm. Harry continued his torture until Draco couldn't take any more, and he dragged Harry forward by the hair.
"Need you inside me now, Potter."
Harry smiled, hungry and a bit wild. Fuck that was sexy as all hell. "Accio lube," he called, and a tube came flying into Harry's hand. He looked down at Draco. "Are you sure?"
"If you don't fuck me now, Potter, you may never get another chance," Draco said. He didn't mean it, of course, but Harry didn't know that.
"I'll take that as a yes," Harry said as he slathered the viscous contents onto his fingers, and spread a liberal amount around Draco's arse. Draco's cock was hard and leaking now, and he needed to feel Harry inside him. Harry took his time preparing Draco, stretching him gently before fucking him with one, two, then three fingers, all the while peppering kisses along Draco's thighs.
"Enough," Draco said, desperate for more, needing to feel the fullness that only Harry's cock could bring.
Harry coated his penis with lube, then lined up the head with Draco's entrance. He pressed past the ring and slowly in, pulling back gently and pushing forward again, letting Draco's reactions be his guide, until he was fully seated. Draco breathed heavily while adjusting to the pressure.
"Move," Draco said when he was ready. Harry didn't need telling twice. He pulled back and thrust in, restrained at first, then growing in intensity. Harry linked the fingers of one hand through Draco's and clung to him. Draco reached for his own prick with his free hand and began pumping in time with Harry's thrusts. Before long, Draco felt his balls tighten, and his hand and stomach were coated with his release. Harry continued for a dozen more strokes before he was coming too, coating Draco's channel with his come, Draco's name tumbling from his lips.
Harry grinned down at Draco. "Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are?" He kissed Draco, barely a brush of the lips. "Thank you," Harry said.
"For what?" Draco asked.
"For letting me in." He laid his hand on Draco's chest. "Here."
~*~*~
They drifted off for a couple of hours, and when they awoke, snuggled together and in desperate need of a shower, they got up and washed.
"Try now," Draco said as he handed Harry a mug of tea. "Unless you don't want to without the Pensieve."
"No, I'm good. There's nothing I wouldn't trust you to see." As the words spilled forth, Harry knew them to be true. He also knew that he could share something else with Draco.
As Draco said, "Legilimens," Harry felt the walls surround his mind, protecting his thoughts. He'd done it, finally. He grinned at Draco. "We did it."
A few more times and it was Draco's turn.
"I have something to show you first," Harry said. He handed Draco the journal.
"This would have come in handy before," Draco said, frowning slightly.
Harry bit his bottom lip nervously. "I know, but I've never shared this with anyone. No one but the Ministry official and Andromeda even knows it exists."
"Not even Weasley and Granger?" Draco asked.
Harry shook his head. "Nope. It was something I wasn't ready to share. Something that was just mine."
Draco caressed the book with his fingers, a pleased but hesitant look replacing his frown. "And now? You're ready to share?"
With a nod and a grin, Harry said confidently, "Only with you."
~*~*~
January 1999
"Why did you want to become an Animagus?" Draco asked several weeks later. "So you could be like your dad and Sirius?"
"Maybe at first," Harry said. "But then it was for the escape. I wanted to be able to fade to nothing, even when surrounded by others. How about you?"
"The same," Draco said, "only different. I wanted to escape too, but for the opposite reason. I wanted to be with others, even when I was nothing."
Harry's eyes flared. "You're not nothing."
"I know," Draco agreed. "But I was nothing to them. Alone in a crowd."
Harry was about to embrace Draco when he was stopped short with a glare. Right. No comforting the brooding Slytherin. He tried another tactic. "What say you, Draco, are you ready for this?"
"Absolutely."
As Harry felt himself transform, he marvelled at the beauty that was Draco in flight. An eagle, majestic, soaring above the world. He couldn't imagine a more fitting transformation.
~ FIN ~
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