Fic: When a Tree Dreams (6/9)
Jun. 8th, 2012 08:52 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
omi_ohmyTitle: When a Tree Dreams (6/9?)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
omi_ohmy
Summary: Directly after the war, Harry is left lost and full of questions about his life. Slowly over the summer, and with the help of friends, he works out what will make him happy - or even who. Angsty, eventual slash & romance, HPDM. Rated R for later chapters.
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling, et al. This fic was written for fun, not for profit.
Pairings/Characters: HP/DM, RW/HG
Rating: R for later chapters (this chapter PG)
Word count (this chapter): ~31,000 (~4,600)
Warning(s): Mostly misery and friendships, not much HPDM until later chapters.
Betas:birdsofshore and evilgiraff
Chapter One
<<Chapter Five
Chapter 6 - Freedom and Trust
Harry woke up the next morning, his mouth dry and his head aching. His body was stiff and uncomfortable, and he realised he had fallen asleep in the drawing room, with Draco. Draco was still asleep on the armchair opposite. He had drawn his knees up and was curled, like a long cat, on the seat. His hair was falling across his face, and Harry noticed a thin line of saliva trailing away from his mouth; he looked quite unlike his waking self. Pale eyelashes rested against smooth cheeks, and for a moment Harry couldn't put his finger on quite why Draco looked so different. Then he realised. The lines of worry which usually drew his face into a crease of worry were absent. He looked... peaceful.
As Harry watched, Draco started to wake. His eyes still tightly shut, he breathed in deeply then he stretched, his top riding up to give Harry another glimpse of his midriff, still pale and golden but this time sleep-warmed. Harry didn't know why he was so fascinated by it, but he couldn't deny that he wanted to touch it again. It just looked so soft. Draco yawned, opened one eye, then surreptitiously wiped away the line of drool on his chin. "What are you looking at, hero-boy?" he growled. Harry blushed, and hoped Draco hadn't seen just how closely he had been looking. He stood up and stretched himself, feeling his body protest after being held at awkward angles all night. He only stopped when his back cracked as he stretched his arms high up above his head, his hands joined.
"As I'm awake first I'll go use the bathroom first," Harry announced with a cheeky smile, before nearly skipping to the door and making his way up the stairs. For the first time in a long time, he felt a little less alone.
Over breakfast, although they didn't talk much, things somehow felt different between Harry and Draco. More... trusting. Harry wasn't sure if that was due to their sharing of secrets the night before, or just because they had slept all night in each other's company. There was... something about the thought of them lying there asleep, both at their most vulnerable, yet safe.
"Yesterday you took me to a place you liked," said Draco shyly. "Maybe I could show you somewhere I like, today?"
Harry looked up, cautiously curious.
"Where?"
Draco smiled. "It's a surprise," he face changed, becoming more serious, as if suddenly uncertain. "Do you trust me enough for that?" Harry was silent as he thought about it. Did he? It didn't take long for him to decide. He had a feeling in his gut that he could, so he went with his instincts.
"I– I think I do," he said, his voice full of wonder. He smiled as the light returned to Draco's face.
"Do you have any brooms? And could I ask Kreacher to do one or two small favours for me?" asked Draco.
"Er," said Harry, "I'm not sure about the brooms. But you can ask Kreacher for something – as long as it's all above–"
"Don't worry, Harry, I'm not really in a position to be breaking any laws now, am I?" interrupted Draco, scowling.
"No," said Harry, "I suppose not." He frowned though, and Draco looked worried.
"It really is fine, Harry," he said.
"What? Oh, no, I know," said Harry, distracted. "You just got me thinking. I may have an idea about the brooms. I wonder.... Kreacher!" he called. Kreacher appeared at this elbow, with a surprisingly quiet pop! for a house elf.
"Yes, Master Harry?"
"I was wondering, Kreacher, are there any brooms – for flying – in the house, somewhere? It doesn't matter if they're old–", he shot a questioning glance at Draco, who quickly shook his head, "–as long as they're safe. Also, Draco would like to ask you something, and you may help him with his task today."
"Kreacher knows where there are brooms!" said Kreacher, looking excited about being asked a question about something other than food, alcohol or hot baths. "And Kreacher is happy to be able to help a member of the Black family," and with this he gave Draco a deep bow. Deeper, Harry suspected, then any he'd received from Kreacher. Before he could respond, Kreacher had disappeared with another pop! and he could hear rumblings from some other part of the house.
A couple of minutes later, Kreacher reappeared, proudly holding two brooms aloft. They were definitely old: much straighter than modern models, and fairly scratched and well-worn. One had a red band painted around it, near the tip, the other a green one. Kreacher handed the first to Harry. It had initials carved into it: SB. His breath caught. He looked up at Draco, who was turning the other broom in his hands.
"Who's RAB?" asked Draco.
"Regulus Arcturus Black," Harry said, voice quiet and shaky. He held up the broom in his hand. "Sirius's broth–"
"Mother's cousins. Your godfather and his brother," Draco said, flatly.
"Regulus was a Death Eater who changed his mind. He died trying to defeat Voldemort. Sirius–" Harry stopped.
"Crazy Aunt Bella. I would apologise for her, but I'd rather she wasn't anything to do with me," Draco paused and ran his hand through his hair. "Did you know she taught me Occlumency? It was a horrifying experience." Harry, remembering his lessons with Snape, couldn't begin to imagine. "I think I'd rather like to thank Molly Weasley for getting rid of her," Draco added, shocking Harry.
The mood had turned rather dark when Harry went upstairs to get something warmer to wear for flying. When he rejoined Draco downstairs he too had warmer gear on, and Harry assumed he'd concluded his business with Kreacher as he didn't mention it again. They stood at the foot of the stairs.
"Can we Portkey from here?" asked Draco. Harry shook his head. He cast a quick Disillusionment Charm on themselves and the broomsticks, then they stepped out of the front door. Harry hoped they were also protected from public view by the anti-Muggle charms on the house. Draco held firmly onto Harry's arm and got out his handkerchief, unwrapping it to reveal a silver teaspoon. Understanding immediately, Harry reached out as Draco counted to three. He touched the teaspoon and they were whirled away in an instant.
oOo
They were standing on green grass. It was a vivid colour, and it was wet and spiky and all around them. The air was fresh, if damp with the finest of drizzles, and thick clouds hung overhead. A stiff breeze lifted Harry's hair and whipped Draco's about his head. Turning round, Harry could see the sea through the fine mist of rain. Draco cast a quick Impervius on both their clothes, and Harry's glasses. He himself got out a rather old-fashioned pair of goggles. Harry cast a quick sticking charm on his glasses, one he'd found useful when playing Quidditch. Grinning, they got on the old brooms.
As Harry started climbing up into the air, he felt the restraints of his life fall away. Up here there was just him and the broom, and speed and the wind rushing around him. He looked over at Draco and saw a wild freedom on his face. They flew together, up and around, then out to sea. Harry's heart missed a beat when the grass below dropped away, and they were flying down past huge, craggy cliffs. Draco suddenly pulled his broomstick up and Harry followed, spiralling higher and higher. The wind was whistling in his ears and his lungs were full of clean, fresh air. Harry could taste the salt of the spray mingling with the sweetness of the rain. He laughed with exhilaration, with sheer joy at the experience. They flew higher and higher until he was straining for breath, and then they were diving. Just before the rising and dipping waves they pulled up, wet spray touching their feet. Draco shouted something incoherent but happy. As they flew parallel to the sea, Harry turned to head back to the cliffs, trailing one hand so it skimmed the top of the waves as he leaned in.
They spent a long time rising, diving, rushing along the cliffs. Gusts of wind caught them, bringing them perilously close to the rocks from time to time, but Harry and Draco just laughed and pulled their brooms up for more. Harry felt alive. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, a constant rhythm below the roar or the sea and the wind. His skin was flush with exertion and despite the water on his face and under his collar, he felt himself radiating heat, his clothes clinging to him with sweat.
When they finally came to a stop at the top of the cliffs, both Harry and Draco were panting hard. The tip of Harry's nose and ears were icy cold, but he felt amazing. They stood, side by side, getting their breath back while looking out to sea. The view was spectacular. Below them waves crashed against the rocks, sending up giant plumes of spray and churning the sea to an angry white. The sky hung low with cloud above them, but it just served to make the space feel close while still being huge round them. Harry started to laugh. When he'd let it all out, he turned to Draco, eyes shining. "That was bloody brilliant!" he shouted above the sound of the sea. Draco's answering grin was wide, and filled his face.
By unspoken agreement they turned and headed inland. It was still windy, but a little quieter away from the cliff's edge. "I've always wanted to do that," said Draco.
"You've never done that before? I thought you said it was a favourite place?" said Harry, confused.
"It is a favourite place. I came here on holiday with my parents. It was... it was good to have a break from our regular lives at the Manor," he paused, his eyes distant as if seeing something far away. "But Mother would never let me fly here," he laughed. "It is a little risky, Harry," he said. Harry looked back towards the sea. He supposed it was.
"Nothing for a pair of ace seekers like us, though," he grinned. "I haven't been on a broom for ages. Not since—" he stopped suddenly. Next to him, Draco paled.
"Not since the Fiendfyre," he finished for Harry. They were silent as they continued walking.
"So what next, Draco? That was the most fun I've had in a long time, but I need to have a rest now."
Draco nodded. "How about some lunch? There's a Muggle town with a handy Apparition point nearby."
Harry shook his head. "We can't walk around with the brooms."
"Call for Kreacher: he'll be able to take them back for us," said Draco, obviously more practised at how to make the most of having a house elf.
"Kreacher!" Harry called, and with a very loud crack! Kreacher appeared in front of them.
He bowed low. "Kreacher would be happy to take the Masters' brooms back," he said, and his hands out to take them.
Harry turned to Draco. "Did you plan this? Is this the favour you wanted?"
"I may have mentioned this to Kreacher. But it wasn't the favour. Do you know where we are, Harry?" Harry shook his head, a bit embarrassed not even to have asked. Draco sighed and shook his head, but he wore an amused look on his face. "We're in Ireland. It's too far to Apparate. Kreacher helped me make the Portkey," Kreacher handed Draco a small bundle of Muggle paper money, " and I asked him to change some money into Muggle money," and Draco took the money and put it in his pocket. Kreacher bowed again and Disapparated.
"Are you ready, Harry?" asked Draco, and for the second time that day Harry nodded and held onto Draco as they Apparated away.
oOo
This time they Apparated into a small clearing in some woods. They walked for about ten minutes before reaching the edge of a town, nestled in the side of a river leading out to sea. Harry insisted they have fish and chips for lunch, especially when Draco confessed that it was another thing his mother had forbidden. They sat on a bench in a small park overlooking the river. The weather had cleared a little, and sun was starting to appear in gaps in the clouds. Puddles flashed bright with wide snatches of reflected sky, breaking up the dull grey shine of wet asphalt. Their meals lay nestled in layers of paper, a warm weight in their laps.
"Mother would hate this," said Draco, "eating with your fingers! How uncouth. Ill-bred." He smiled, and popped a chip into his mouth. He held his greasy fingers up and wiggled them in front of his face, then licked the salt of their tips, one by one. Harry watched in fascination as his warm, pink tongue slid over each digit, then in a slow swipe over first his top, then his bottom lip. Without thinking, Harry mirrored the action, licking around his own mouth. Suddenly conscious of his actions, he looked down quickly, and broke off a piece of crispy fish to eat. The batter was crunchy and the fish hot, breaking into thick, white flakes. It was the perfect meal.
Harry snuck another look at Draco. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes full of life. Harry watched the movement of his eyelashes as they rose and sank with each blink of his eyes. Something about the freshness of the day or the adrenaline still coursing through his veins made his heartbeat speed at the sight. Draco looked alive, the way that Harry did. For some reason, this was thrilling. Again, he quickly looked away before Draco caught him looking.
"Harry," began Draco, turning to face him, "do you have any idea what you want to do with your life?"
Harry blinked a few times, surprised by the question. He thought for a minute, but nothing but blankness came to mind. He shook his head.
"I have no idea. I did want a family, of some sort–", he stopped, seeing the look on Draco's face. "Oh, not necessarily a wife and children, not yet!" Harry said, and he looked out across at the water glinting in the sunlight. "Just somewhere to belong, with people who loved me. I... I thought I had it with the Weasleys, but with them I'm still a child, in some ways. In need of protection and feeding," he paused, remembering the grief-stricken household as he watched the shadows of clouds pass over houses and the lush green grass of the open countryside, "and I'm not really one of them, anyway. I think I need to make my own way as an adult first." He turned back to Draco. "What do you want?" he asked, softly.
Draco's face looked conflicted before he answered. Harry wondered what kind of internal battle he was fighting. There was a harder, cynical edge to him when he spoke. Harry wasn't sure if he liked it.
"What do I want? I can't have what I want," he said quietly, holding Harry's eyes for a moment before turning away. "I guess I want... something to believe in. Everything I've ever believed in my life is meaningless now. How... how can I trust anything again? How can I trust love again? My father loved me, but in the end it turned to anger and, I think, hatred. And... how can I trust myself?" The last question came out so quietly, the wind almost took it before it reached Harry's ears. But Harry did hear it. He reached out his hand, and rested it on Draco's arm. Draco looked back up at him.
"I trust you, Draco" he said, almost as quietly as Draco had spoken. "I've trusted you today. And I saw how brave you were at the trials. You should trust yourself more."
Draco pulled his arm away and laughed bitterly. "Brave? Me? I honestly don't know how you can sit there and say that." The haunted look had returned to his eyes, and Harry hated it. He took a deep breath.
"Look Draco, yesterday we agreed to leave the past behind us. And I don't know about you, but I had an amazing morning. I actually felt... alive. And you, you are officially free. Free! So enough of your whining, and your self-pity. We're finally out of that miserable house, we're young, let's go and have some fun!"
Draco snorted. "Like you weren't wallowing in your own woes a minute or two ago, Harry!"
Harry smiled, and elbowed him in the side. "That's more like it." They looked at each other for a moment.
"Potter," sneered Draco, in mock-disdain.
"Malfoy," returned Harry. There was a pause, and then they both burst out laughing, the moment of unhappiness forgotten. They balled up their greasy fish papers, and threw them in a nearby bin as they walked out of the park, high spirits restored.
oOo
After their lunch, with its tensions and resolution, neither was ready to go home yet, so they walked, side by side, through the narrow streets of the town. It felt good to be surrounded by so many people, so many Muggles, without needing to explain their nascent friendship or deal with their fame, or infamy, as it applied. They walked to an open common ground, which was fenced off with tall wire panels, held down in blocks of concrete. Inside were the flashing lights, loud noises and half-hidden hydraulics of a Muggle funfair. Instantly, Harry turned to Draco, eager to go in. "This was something my family never let me do," he said, excited. Draco raised an eyebrow, and jingled his pocket full of change.
"Let's go in then."
Draco came away from the kiosk with a handful of tokens. As eager as children, they looked around for a place to start. They queued up for the small roller coaster. There was a gaggle of teen girls in front of them, giggling and chatting in high, quick voices which occasionally spilt over into laughter. They were clutching their tokens in their hands, and just as the last of them got to the front, she dropped one and they all watched it as it landed on the metal step to the ride, and rolled away into its grimy recesses. Her face fell, her youth suddenly outweighing her teen bravado. While Harry felt a twinge of sympathy for her, he was surprised when Draco stepped forward and pressed a token into her hand. She looked up and blushed, and Draco gave her a low bow, reminiscent of one of Kreacher's finest, making her blush even more. Her friends giggled as she quickly paid and whispered in her ear when she caught up with them. The girl went bright red as they all looked at Draco, the words 'Isn't he lovely,' accompanied by knowing winks as they climbed into their seats.
Harry turned to Draco, and smiled. "How gallant," he said, and Draco flashed him a quick grin.
The ride was great, the feelings of rushing forward and dropping down familiar from their flying that morning. Yet the sound of mechanical ratcheting and rattling made the whole thing feel more precarious; as did their lack of control, of how fast and where they went. When they got off, both were laughing. Next, Harry insisted they try some candy floss, guessing that the sweet-toothed Draco would like it. He did, enthusiastically biting into it, and tearing some off with his teeth, leaving behind dark wet crescents in the pink fluff.
They walked and talked and ate the tooth-rottingly sweet candy. "Poor Muggles," Draco said, "I bet that roly coaster is the closest any get to flying. But this stuff is great," he added, taking another bite. Harry was about to answer when someone bumped into him. He righted himself and muttered a quick "Sorry–", but he stopped in shock when he saw who it was.
There was an extended silence as they all stared at each other. Draco spoke first. "Theo? Theo Nott?", his voice shaky and his face suddenly completely white.
Theo didn't look much better. His gaze swung from Draco, to Harry, then back again. He had grown a little since Harry had last seen him, but was still a little weedy-looking with his thin, knobbly body. His face though, looked drawn, and he had dark circles beneath his eyes. Theo's eyes narrowed. "You!" he spat at Draco. "How dare you walk freely, laughing. You ought to be rotting in Azkaban." Harry cast a quick Muffliato, even though it probably wasn't necessary over the noise of the fair. He really didn't want to have to explain this conversation to anyone, especially a Muggle. "You should be rotting and alone, like your precious father. And mine," Theo continued, bitterly. He looked Draco up and down. "The only Marked Death Eater to go free," he sneered. He turned his attention to Harry now, "out with the Saviour of the bloody Wizarding World. How... interesting," he leered.
His eyes swung back to Draco, and he drew his scrawny body up high. "I never liked you, Malfoy, always acting so superior, showing off your sweets and your broom and never shutting up about how wonderful your father was. With your stupid sycophants and your idiotic sidekicks, Merlin, you were pathetic. The joke of Slytherin," he glared at Draco.
"I couldn't understand how you walked free, but now I see it." Draco's face was red with anger, and he put out his arm as if to physically prevent Theo from continuing.
"Please," he begged, his hand stopping just short of touching Theo, "don't."
But Theo laughed, "Oh! He doesn't know, does he? Thinks he's just your friend, or he's saving you, or something mindless and Gryffindor like that." Draco trembled. His eyes were wide and he looked terrified, desperate. "You always did have a thing about him, didn't you? The wonder-boy Potter," he looked at Harry, addressing his next question to him. "Did you ever wonder why Malfoy here would never leave you alone? Why he was the only person other than the Dark Lord stupid enough to actively annoy you, Dumbledore's Chosen One?" Harry just stared, frozen and confused. What on earth was Nott talking about?
"Please, no..." whispered Draco again, swaying as he stood. Tears were gathering in his eyes. Harry looked at him desperately. He didn't understand. What was the big secret?
"Little Drakey Wakey here, has been pining after you for years, Potter. He used to say your name in his sleep. While he had a certain kind of dream," he smirked. "There's not much you can hide when you sleep in a room full of Slytherins."
"No!" said Harry, taking a step backwards in shock. But one glance at Draco, his head hanging, his cheeks aflame, eyes filling, was enough to confirm it. "Draco?" Harry asked, in a whisper. Reluctantly, Draco raised his head and met Harry's eyes.
"Sorry, Harry," he said in a small voice. His eyes held Harry's for a moment longer, then he turned away. Harry's mind was a whirling blur of confused thoughts, none of which were clear enough to actually form words.
"When I saw you just now, my first instinct was to hex you. I just wanted you to hurt. And then I wanted to expose you for what you really are. A miserable and backstabbing failure of a man, of a Death Eater," he pronounced the title with a proud and defiant glare. "But this," and here Theo smiled gleefully, "this is so much better." He looked between Harry and Draco and laughed. "Nice seeing you, boys," he said, and before either of them could respond or stop him, he walked off, whistling.
Harry stared after his retreating form for a moment. He turned back to Draco, who was still shaking, his shoulders bowed. "Draco," said Harry, but Draco wouldn't look up. When he spoke, his voice was low, but full of barely-constrained emotion. "I can't–" he said, closing his eyes and holding his fists tight by his sides as he tried to control himself. He dragged his eyes up to meet Harry's. "I meant every word I've said to you since I moved into Grimmauld Place," he said, looking away. "Goodbye, Harry," he whispered, and half walked, half ran into the nearest dark corner between rides.
"Draco, stop!" called out Harry. "Wait!" but Draco ignored him. Then Harry saw the glint of metal as Draco took out the Portkey and disappeared.
Harry was left, alone and confused, with people milling all around him. The loud klaxons and music which just a few minutes ago had seemed fun and exciting, were now jarring, a cacophony of sound. On the ground beneath his feet, Draco's half-eaten candy floss lay discarded. It had all been so fast, Harry didn't understand what had happened. He stood for a few minutes, unsure of how to get home. He didn't even know where he was, which sea it was he'd flown above that morning. Then he remembered how they'd got the brooms home. He couldn't summon Kreacher in such a busy place, so he wearily retraced his steps back to the woods at the outskirts of town. As he walked, he went over every word Theo had said, in his head, trying to make sense of it all.
oOo
When he was finally back home, Harry ran up the stairs, looking for Draco. He stopped when he got to Draco's room. The door was open. He stepped inside, wanting to see Draco there but knowing deep down that the room would be empty. It was. It looked the same as the last time Harry had seen it: neat and tidy, the bed made, nothing out to show it was occupied. But this time, it felt empty. There was no little bag on the side. He was too late.
Harry sat down on the bed. It was warmer here than it had been in Ireland, and he discarded his jacket. He was so confused. Draco liked him? Or he had. No, he wouldn't have run unless.... Harry was shocked. How could he not have noticed? But he really hadn't seen it, at all. He thought of Draco in the moonlight, or sitting by the fire confessing his secrets. He flushed remembering how he'd watched Draco, thought of touching his soft skin. He didn't understand. Had it been real? Had those conversations meant something else? What was he supposed to do now? He'd finally begun to feel that he might be able to find a way to be happy in life, but now it had all fallen away.
oOo
Harry sent an owl to Draco, meaningless words just to check if he was ok, but got no reply. He tried fire calling the Manor once, but their Floo was closed now. He debated going back there, but if Draco had cut off the Floo connection and wasn't answering owls, he obviously didn't want to talk to or see Harry. Harry gave up, and retreated into silence, back to his earlier routine of eating, sitting, sleeping. Except now he didn't go out. He couldn't bear to return to the Heath, and any other idea he had felt empty and ashen. The weather became intensely hot, but Harry remained inside, hidden in the stifling gloom of the house. In the days which followed, he neither look for Draco, nor heard from him again.
>>Chapter Seven
Author:
omi_ohmySummary: Directly after the war, Harry is left lost and full of questions about his life. Slowly over the summer, and with the help of friends, he works out what will make him happy - or even who. Angsty, eventual slash & romance, HPDM. Rated R for later chapters.
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling, et al. This fic was written for fun, not for profit.
Pairings/Characters: HP/DM, RW/HG
Rating: R for later chapters (this chapter PG)
Word count (this chapter): ~31,000 (~4,600)
Warning(s): Mostly misery and friendships, not much HPDM until later chapters.
Betas:
birdsofshore and evilgiraffChapter One
<<Chapter Five
Chapter 6 - Freedom and Trust
Harry woke up the next morning, his mouth dry and his head aching. His body was stiff and uncomfortable, and he realised he had fallen asleep in the drawing room, with Draco. Draco was still asleep on the armchair opposite. He had drawn his knees up and was curled, like a long cat, on the seat. His hair was falling across his face, and Harry noticed a thin line of saliva trailing away from his mouth; he looked quite unlike his waking self. Pale eyelashes rested against smooth cheeks, and for a moment Harry couldn't put his finger on quite why Draco looked so different. Then he realised. The lines of worry which usually drew his face into a crease of worry were absent. He looked... peaceful.
As Harry watched, Draco started to wake. His eyes still tightly shut, he breathed in deeply then he stretched, his top riding up to give Harry another glimpse of his midriff, still pale and golden but this time sleep-warmed. Harry didn't know why he was so fascinated by it, but he couldn't deny that he wanted to touch it again. It just looked so soft. Draco yawned, opened one eye, then surreptitiously wiped away the line of drool on his chin. "What are you looking at, hero-boy?" he growled. Harry blushed, and hoped Draco hadn't seen just how closely he had been looking. He stood up and stretched himself, feeling his body protest after being held at awkward angles all night. He only stopped when his back cracked as he stretched his arms high up above his head, his hands joined.
"As I'm awake first I'll go use the bathroom first," Harry announced with a cheeky smile, before nearly skipping to the door and making his way up the stairs. For the first time in a long time, he felt a little less alone.
Over breakfast, although they didn't talk much, things somehow felt different between Harry and Draco. More... trusting. Harry wasn't sure if that was due to their sharing of secrets the night before, or just because they had slept all night in each other's company. There was... something about the thought of them lying there asleep, both at their most vulnerable, yet safe.
"Yesterday you took me to a place you liked," said Draco shyly. "Maybe I could show you somewhere I like, today?"
Harry looked up, cautiously curious.
"Where?"
Draco smiled. "It's a surprise," he face changed, becoming more serious, as if suddenly uncertain. "Do you trust me enough for that?" Harry was silent as he thought about it. Did he? It didn't take long for him to decide. He had a feeling in his gut that he could, so he went with his instincts.
"I– I think I do," he said, his voice full of wonder. He smiled as the light returned to Draco's face.
"Do you have any brooms? And could I ask Kreacher to do one or two small favours for me?" asked Draco.
"Er," said Harry, "I'm not sure about the brooms. But you can ask Kreacher for something – as long as it's all above–"
"Don't worry, Harry, I'm not really in a position to be breaking any laws now, am I?" interrupted Draco, scowling.
"No," said Harry, "I suppose not." He frowned though, and Draco looked worried.
"It really is fine, Harry," he said.
"What? Oh, no, I know," said Harry, distracted. "You just got me thinking. I may have an idea about the brooms. I wonder.... Kreacher!" he called. Kreacher appeared at this elbow, with a surprisingly quiet pop! for a house elf.
"Yes, Master Harry?"
"I was wondering, Kreacher, are there any brooms – for flying – in the house, somewhere? It doesn't matter if they're old–", he shot a questioning glance at Draco, who quickly shook his head, "–as long as they're safe. Also, Draco would like to ask you something, and you may help him with his task today."
"Kreacher knows where there are brooms!" said Kreacher, looking excited about being asked a question about something other than food, alcohol or hot baths. "And Kreacher is happy to be able to help a member of the Black family," and with this he gave Draco a deep bow. Deeper, Harry suspected, then any he'd received from Kreacher. Before he could respond, Kreacher had disappeared with another pop! and he could hear rumblings from some other part of the house.
A couple of minutes later, Kreacher reappeared, proudly holding two brooms aloft. They were definitely old: much straighter than modern models, and fairly scratched and well-worn. One had a red band painted around it, near the tip, the other a green one. Kreacher handed the first to Harry. It had initials carved into it: SB. His breath caught. He looked up at Draco, who was turning the other broom in his hands.
"Who's RAB?" asked Draco.
"Regulus Arcturus Black," Harry said, voice quiet and shaky. He held up the broom in his hand. "Sirius's broth–"
"Mother's cousins. Your godfather and his brother," Draco said, flatly.
"Regulus was a Death Eater who changed his mind. He died trying to defeat Voldemort. Sirius–" Harry stopped.
"Crazy Aunt Bella. I would apologise for her, but I'd rather she wasn't anything to do with me," Draco paused and ran his hand through his hair. "Did you know she taught me Occlumency? It was a horrifying experience." Harry, remembering his lessons with Snape, couldn't begin to imagine. "I think I'd rather like to thank Molly Weasley for getting rid of her," Draco added, shocking Harry.
The mood had turned rather dark when Harry went upstairs to get something warmer to wear for flying. When he rejoined Draco downstairs he too had warmer gear on, and Harry assumed he'd concluded his business with Kreacher as he didn't mention it again. They stood at the foot of the stairs.
"Can we Portkey from here?" asked Draco. Harry shook his head. He cast a quick Disillusionment Charm on themselves and the broomsticks, then they stepped out of the front door. Harry hoped they were also protected from public view by the anti-Muggle charms on the house. Draco held firmly onto Harry's arm and got out his handkerchief, unwrapping it to reveal a silver teaspoon. Understanding immediately, Harry reached out as Draco counted to three. He touched the teaspoon and they were whirled away in an instant.
They were standing on green grass. It was a vivid colour, and it was wet and spiky and all around them. The air was fresh, if damp with the finest of drizzles, and thick clouds hung overhead. A stiff breeze lifted Harry's hair and whipped Draco's about his head. Turning round, Harry could see the sea through the fine mist of rain. Draco cast a quick Impervius on both their clothes, and Harry's glasses. He himself got out a rather old-fashioned pair of goggles. Harry cast a quick sticking charm on his glasses, one he'd found useful when playing Quidditch. Grinning, they got on the old brooms.
As Harry started climbing up into the air, he felt the restraints of his life fall away. Up here there was just him and the broom, and speed and the wind rushing around him. He looked over at Draco and saw a wild freedom on his face. They flew together, up and around, then out to sea. Harry's heart missed a beat when the grass below dropped away, and they were flying down past huge, craggy cliffs. Draco suddenly pulled his broomstick up and Harry followed, spiralling higher and higher. The wind was whistling in his ears and his lungs were full of clean, fresh air. Harry could taste the salt of the spray mingling with the sweetness of the rain. He laughed with exhilaration, with sheer joy at the experience. They flew higher and higher until he was straining for breath, and then they were diving. Just before the rising and dipping waves they pulled up, wet spray touching their feet. Draco shouted something incoherent but happy. As they flew parallel to the sea, Harry turned to head back to the cliffs, trailing one hand so it skimmed the top of the waves as he leaned in.
They spent a long time rising, diving, rushing along the cliffs. Gusts of wind caught them, bringing them perilously close to the rocks from time to time, but Harry and Draco just laughed and pulled their brooms up for more. Harry felt alive. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, a constant rhythm below the roar or the sea and the wind. His skin was flush with exertion and despite the water on his face and under his collar, he felt himself radiating heat, his clothes clinging to him with sweat.
When they finally came to a stop at the top of the cliffs, both Harry and Draco were panting hard. The tip of Harry's nose and ears were icy cold, but he felt amazing. They stood, side by side, getting their breath back while looking out to sea. The view was spectacular. Below them waves crashed against the rocks, sending up giant plumes of spray and churning the sea to an angry white. The sky hung low with cloud above them, but it just served to make the space feel close while still being huge round them. Harry started to laugh. When he'd let it all out, he turned to Draco, eyes shining. "That was bloody brilliant!" he shouted above the sound of the sea. Draco's answering grin was wide, and filled his face.
By unspoken agreement they turned and headed inland. It was still windy, but a little quieter away from the cliff's edge. "I've always wanted to do that," said Draco.
"You've never done that before? I thought you said it was a favourite place?" said Harry, confused.
"It is a favourite place. I came here on holiday with my parents. It was... it was good to have a break from our regular lives at the Manor," he paused, his eyes distant as if seeing something far away. "But Mother would never let me fly here," he laughed. "It is a little risky, Harry," he said. Harry looked back towards the sea. He supposed it was.
"Nothing for a pair of ace seekers like us, though," he grinned. "I haven't been on a broom for ages. Not since—" he stopped suddenly. Next to him, Draco paled.
"Not since the Fiendfyre," he finished for Harry. They were silent as they continued walking.
"So what next, Draco? That was the most fun I've had in a long time, but I need to have a rest now."
Draco nodded. "How about some lunch? There's a Muggle town with a handy Apparition point nearby."
Harry shook his head. "We can't walk around with the brooms."
"Call for Kreacher: he'll be able to take them back for us," said Draco, obviously more practised at how to make the most of having a house elf.
"Kreacher!" Harry called, and with a very loud crack! Kreacher appeared in front of them.
He bowed low. "Kreacher would be happy to take the Masters' brooms back," he said, and his hands out to take them.
Harry turned to Draco. "Did you plan this? Is this the favour you wanted?"
"I may have mentioned this to Kreacher. But it wasn't the favour. Do you know where we are, Harry?" Harry shook his head, a bit embarrassed not even to have asked. Draco sighed and shook his head, but he wore an amused look on his face. "We're in Ireland. It's too far to Apparate. Kreacher helped me make the Portkey," Kreacher handed Draco a small bundle of Muggle paper money, " and I asked him to change some money into Muggle money," and Draco took the money and put it in his pocket. Kreacher bowed again and Disapparated.
"Are you ready, Harry?" asked Draco, and for the second time that day Harry nodded and held onto Draco as they Apparated away.
This time they Apparated into a small clearing in some woods. They walked for about ten minutes before reaching the edge of a town, nestled in the side of a river leading out to sea. Harry insisted they have fish and chips for lunch, especially when Draco confessed that it was another thing his mother had forbidden. They sat on a bench in a small park overlooking the river. The weather had cleared a little, and sun was starting to appear in gaps in the clouds. Puddles flashed bright with wide snatches of reflected sky, breaking up the dull grey shine of wet asphalt. Their meals lay nestled in layers of paper, a warm weight in their laps.
"Mother would hate this," said Draco, "eating with your fingers! How uncouth. Ill-bred." He smiled, and popped a chip into his mouth. He held his greasy fingers up and wiggled them in front of his face, then licked the salt of their tips, one by one. Harry watched in fascination as his warm, pink tongue slid over each digit, then in a slow swipe over first his top, then his bottom lip. Without thinking, Harry mirrored the action, licking around his own mouth. Suddenly conscious of his actions, he looked down quickly, and broke off a piece of crispy fish to eat. The batter was crunchy and the fish hot, breaking into thick, white flakes. It was the perfect meal.
Harry snuck another look at Draco. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes full of life. Harry watched the movement of his eyelashes as they rose and sank with each blink of his eyes. Something about the freshness of the day or the adrenaline still coursing through his veins made his heartbeat speed at the sight. Draco looked alive, the way that Harry did. For some reason, this was thrilling. Again, he quickly looked away before Draco caught him looking.
"Harry," began Draco, turning to face him, "do you have any idea what you want to do with your life?"
Harry blinked a few times, surprised by the question. He thought for a minute, but nothing but blankness came to mind. He shook his head.
"I have no idea. I did want a family, of some sort–", he stopped, seeing the look on Draco's face. "Oh, not necessarily a wife and children, not yet!" Harry said, and he looked out across at the water glinting in the sunlight. "Just somewhere to belong, with people who loved me. I... I thought I had it with the Weasleys, but with them I'm still a child, in some ways. In need of protection and feeding," he paused, remembering the grief-stricken household as he watched the shadows of clouds pass over houses and the lush green grass of the open countryside, "and I'm not really one of them, anyway. I think I need to make my own way as an adult first." He turned back to Draco. "What do you want?" he asked, softly.
Draco's face looked conflicted before he answered. Harry wondered what kind of internal battle he was fighting. There was a harder, cynical edge to him when he spoke. Harry wasn't sure if he liked it.
"What do I want? I can't have what I want," he said quietly, holding Harry's eyes for a moment before turning away. "I guess I want... something to believe in. Everything I've ever believed in my life is meaningless now. How... how can I trust anything again? How can I trust love again? My father loved me, but in the end it turned to anger and, I think, hatred. And... how can I trust myself?" The last question came out so quietly, the wind almost took it before it reached Harry's ears. But Harry did hear it. He reached out his hand, and rested it on Draco's arm. Draco looked back up at him.
"I trust you, Draco" he said, almost as quietly as Draco had spoken. "I've trusted you today. And I saw how brave you were at the trials. You should trust yourself more."
Draco pulled his arm away and laughed bitterly. "Brave? Me? I honestly don't know how you can sit there and say that." The haunted look had returned to his eyes, and Harry hated it. He took a deep breath.
"Look Draco, yesterday we agreed to leave the past behind us. And I don't know about you, but I had an amazing morning. I actually felt... alive. And you, you are officially free. Free! So enough of your whining, and your self-pity. We're finally out of that miserable house, we're young, let's go and have some fun!"
Draco snorted. "Like you weren't wallowing in your own woes a minute or two ago, Harry!"
Harry smiled, and elbowed him in the side. "That's more like it." They looked at each other for a moment.
"Potter," sneered Draco, in mock-disdain.
"Malfoy," returned Harry. There was a pause, and then they both burst out laughing, the moment of unhappiness forgotten. They balled up their greasy fish papers, and threw them in a nearby bin as they walked out of the park, high spirits restored.
After their lunch, with its tensions and resolution, neither was ready to go home yet, so they walked, side by side, through the narrow streets of the town. It felt good to be surrounded by so many people, so many Muggles, without needing to explain their nascent friendship or deal with their fame, or infamy, as it applied. They walked to an open common ground, which was fenced off with tall wire panels, held down in blocks of concrete. Inside were the flashing lights, loud noises and half-hidden hydraulics of a Muggle funfair. Instantly, Harry turned to Draco, eager to go in. "This was something my family never let me do," he said, excited. Draco raised an eyebrow, and jingled his pocket full of change.
"Let's go in then."
Draco came away from the kiosk with a handful of tokens. As eager as children, they looked around for a place to start. They queued up for the small roller coaster. There was a gaggle of teen girls in front of them, giggling and chatting in high, quick voices which occasionally spilt over into laughter. They were clutching their tokens in their hands, and just as the last of them got to the front, she dropped one and they all watched it as it landed on the metal step to the ride, and rolled away into its grimy recesses. Her face fell, her youth suddenly outweighing her teen bravado. While Harry felt a twinge of sympathy for her, he was surprised when Draco stepped forward and pressed a token into her hand. She looked up and blushed, and Draco gave her a low bow, reminiscent of one of Kreacher's finest, making her blush even more. Her friends giggled as she quickly paid and whispered in her ear when she caught up with them. The girl went bright red as they all looked at Draco, the words 'Isn't he lovely,' accompanied by knowing winks as they climbed into their seats.
Harry turned to Draco, and smiled. "How gallant," he said, and Draco flashed him a quick grin.
The ride was great, the feelings of rushing forward and dropping down familiar from their flying that morning. Yet the sound of mechanical ratcheting and rattling made the whole thing feel more precarious; as did their lack of control, of how fast and where they went. When they got off, both were laughing. Next, Harry insisted they try some candy floss, guessing that the sweet-toothed Draco would like it. He did, enthusiastically biting into it, and tearing some off with his teeth, leaving behind dark wet crescents in the pink fluff.
They walked and talked and ate the tooth-rottingly sweet candy. "Poor Muggles," Draco said, "I bet that roly coaster is the closest any get to flying. But this stuff is great," he added, taking another bite. Harry was about to answer when someone bumped into him. He righted himself and muttered a quick "Sorry–", but he stopped in shock when he saw who it was.
There was an extended silence as they all stared at each other. Draco spoke first. "Theo? Theo Nott?", his voice shaky and his face suddenly completely white.
Theo didn't look much better. His gaze swung from Draco, to Harry, then back again. He had grown a little since Harry had last seen him, but was still a little weedy-looking with his thin, knobbly body. His face though, looked drawn, and he had dark circles beneath his eyes. Theo's eyes narrowed. "You!" he spat at Draco. "How dare you walk freely, laughing. You ought to be rotting in Azkaban." Harry cast a quick Muffliato, even though it probably wasn't necessary over the noise of the fair. He really didn't want to have to explain this conversation to anyone, especially a Muggle. "You should be rotting and alone, like your precious father. And mine," Theo continued, bitterly. He looked Draco up and down. "The only Marked Death Eater to go free," he sneered. He turned his attention to Harry now, "out with the Saviour of the bloody Wizarding World. How... interesting," he leered.
His eyes swung back to Draco, and he drew his scrawny body up high. "I never liked you, Malfoy, always acting so superior, showing off your sweets and your broom and never shutting up about how wonderful your father was. With your stupid sycophants and your idiotic sidekicks, Merlin, you were pathetic. The joke of Slytherin," he glared at Draco.
"I couldn't understand how you walked free, but now I see it." Draco's face was red with anger, and he put out his arm as if to physically prevent Theo from continuing.
"Please," he begged, his hand stopping just short of touching Theo, "don't."
But Theo laughed, "Oh! He doesn't know, does he? Thinks he's just your friend, or he's saving you, or something mindless and Gryffindor like that." Draco trembled. His eyes were wide and he looked terrified, desperate. "You always did have a thing about him, didn't you? The wonder-boy Potter," he looked at Harry, addressing his next question to him. "Did you ever wonder why Malfoy here would never leave you alone? Why he was the only person other than the Dark Lord stupid enough to actively annoy you, Dumbledore's Chosen One?" Harry just stared, frozen and confused. What on earth was Nott talking about?
"Please, no..." whispered Draco again, swaying as he stood. Tears were gathering in his eyes. Harry looked at him desperately. He didn't understand. What was the big secret?
"Little Drakey Wakey here, has been pining after you for years, Potter. He used to say your name in his sleep. While he had a certain kind of dream," he smirked. "There's not much you can hide when you sleep in a room full of Slytherins."
"No!" said Harry, taking a step backwards in shock. But one glance at Draco, his head hanging, his cheeks aflame, eyes filling, was enough to confirm it. "Draco?" Harry asked, in a whisper. Reluctantly, Draco raised his head and met Harry's eyes.
"Sorry, Harry," he said in a small voice. His eyes held Harry's for a moment longer, then he turned away. Harry's mind was a whirling blur of confused thoughts, none of which were clear enough to actually form words.
"When I saw you just now, my first instinct was to hex you. I just wanted you to hurt. And then I wanted to expose you for what you really are. A miserable and backstabbing failure of a man, of a Death Eater," he pronounced the title with a proud and defiant glare. "But this," and here Theo smiled gleefully, "this is so much better." He looked between Harry and Draco and laughed. "Nice seeing you, boys," he said, and before either of them could respond or stop him, he walked off, whistling.
Harry stared after his retreating form for a moment. He turned back to Draco, who was still shaking, his shoulders bowed. "Draco," said Harry, but Draco wouldn't look up. When he spoke, his voice was low, but full of barely-constrained emotion. "I can't–" he said, closing his eyes and holding his fists tight by his sides as he tried to control himself. He dragged his eyes up to meet Harry's. "I meant every word I've said to you since I moved into Grimmauld Place," he said, looking away. "Goodbye, Harry," he whispered, and half walked, half ran into the nearest dark corner between rides.
"Draco, stop!" called out Harry. "Wait!" but Draco ignored him. Then Harry saw the glint of metal as Draco took out the Portkey and disappeared.
Harry was left, alone and confused, with people milling all around him. The loud klaxons and music which just a few minutes ago had seemed fun and exciting, were now jarring, a cacophony of sound. On the ground beneath his feet, Draco's half-eaten candy floss lay discarded. It had all been so fast, Harry didn't understand what had happened. He stood for a few minutes, unsure of how to get home. He didn't even know where he was, which sea it was he'd flown above that morning. Then he remembered how they'd got the brooms home. He couldn't summon Kreacher in such a busy place, so he wearily retraced his steps back to the woods at the outskirts of town. As he walked, he went over every word Theo had said, in his head, trying to make sense of it all.
When he was finally back home, Harry ran up the stairs, looking for Draco. He stopped when he got to Draco's room. The door was open. He stepped inside, wanting to see Draco there but knowing deep down that the room would be empty. It was. It looked the same as the last time Harry had seen it: neat and tidy, the bed made, nothing out to show it was occupied. But this time, it felt empty. There was no little bag on the side. He was too late.
Harry sat down on the bed. It was warmer here than it had been in Ireland, and he discarded his jacket. He was so confused. Draco liked him? Or he had. No, he wouldn't have run unless.... Harry was shocked. How could he not have noticed? But he really hadn't seen it, at all. He thought of Draco in the moonlight, or sitting by the fire confessing his secrets. He flushed remembering how he'd watched Draco, thought of touching his soft skin. He didn't understand. Had it been real? Had those conversations meant something else? What was he supposed to do now? He'd finally begun to feel that he might be able to find a way to be happy in life, but now it had all fallen away.
Harry sent an owl to Draco, meaningless words just to check if he was ok, but got no reply. He tried fire calling the Manor once, but their Floo was closed now. He debated going back there, but if Draco had cut off the Floo connection and wasn't answering owls, he obviously didn't want to talk to or see Harry. Harry gave up, and retreated into silence, back to his earlier routine of eating, sitting, sleeping. Except now he didn't go out. He couldn't bear to return to the Heath, and any other idea he had felt empty and ashen. The weather became intensely hot, but Harry remained inside, hidden in the stifling gloom of the house. In the days which followed, he neither look for Draco, nor heard from him again.
>>Chapter Seven
