All I Ever Wanted

DISCLAIMER: Warning! I make no claim to any property of J.K. Rowling's, and am in no way profiting by this. I do offer her my sincerest thanks for allowing us this garden of the mind in which we play. Further Warning! This story...and likely any I ever write...are dominated by gay themes and characters. That's how it is, if this in any way makes you uncomfortable...do not read further.

"All I Ever Wanted" chap. 10 'Building Foundations'

The week was a blur of activity, but their dates were tiny islands of joy in the sea of classwork, drudgery and secrecy. It was just as well that Draco had planned dates later in the evening since, for who knew what reason, Snape was on the warpath and had Harry in detention every day after class.

On the bright side, Draco had taken the time to make some pleasing alterations to 'their' room. Clean sheets, blankets and pillows, new rugs, a few Cleaning Charms to strip the dust and must away, and new supplies for the study desk so they could even finish schoolwork there.

He'd also stored away a little kit of his own hygiene and grooming products, just so he'd feel at home...even if it was only every so often that they were needed. Draco was proudest of the specific spells he'd worked on the door to the suite. It was a special variation of the Notice Me Not Charm he'd used on occasion. Unless someone was very keen-eyed and intent on finding this room, only Harry or Draco would notice the door. With Locking and Silence Spells in place, this would make the room a perfect sanctum for them.

Harry's week had been a lot more complicated. Aside from Snape venting on Harry all week, Hermione was constantly hinting that she knew something was up and that she wanted to help. Under different circumstances, Harry would have been grateful and he really wished he could share what was going on. Harry wasn't above enjoying a little 'girl-talk' with his friends. It stung a little that he had to keep this from them.

Even Ron was becoming aware that Harry was pre-occupied and happy over something. When Harry quietly implied that it was someone, not something, Ron had just punched him on the arm, congratulated him and accepted without question that, because of Harry's fame, he wanted privacy.

The only part that made Harry flinch was Ron's off color comment. He'd joked that, once Harry got serious with his 'lucky guy', there wouldn't be any hiding it for long. Ron insisted that, as soon Harry actually shagged his new friend, the rest of the school would just have to look for the boy with a pronounced limp, since the only person in Hogwarts who could possibly take a tool like Harry's and shrug it off was Malfoy the Slytherin Slut.

It had been meant in the spirit of fun, but Harry was glad that he hadn't been looking Ron in the eyes that moment. He was half between panic and anger, and just flushed crimson and stuttered out a half-hearted comeback. He wanted everyone to know the Draco he knew, and it sickened Harry to listen to every cheap shot taken at his boyfriend.

At least their dates were perfect. They walked and talked and cuddled and snogged every night. A steady diet of kisses and conversation kept them both afloat through the week. They slept well and weren't haunted by visions at all after their evening at the Pensieve. It seemed that, once they gave up repressing their desires and just enjoyed each other's company, they were fine.

They spoke of everything to each other, even bits of their childhood that neither had ever shared with another person. Draco had gotten choked up when Harry finally talked about growing up at the Dursleys. He'd never imagined that the Boy-Who-Lived could have been raised by such contemptible people. It explained a lot about Harry's intense need for privacy, and his weird absence of pride or bravado, despite his amazing accomplishments.

Harry also confided in Draco the depth of loss he felt when Sirius had been killed. He hadn't been ashamed of crying in Draco's arms when he told of how deeply he'd wanted to have a family that loved him. He'd only just begun to feel comfortable with his godfather when that little happiness was ripped away from him.

After a lifetime of being treated as a burden by the Dursleys, he'd had a glimpse of what it felt like to be loved without condition, and it hurt worse than he could say with words to lose that precious feeling so suddenly and so violently.

Harry took heart in one thing now...and it was the beginnings of that closeness with Draco. The sense of intimacy and growing mutual respect made him feel like he had a family, even if it was a family of one. It soothed the aching emptiness in him like nothing ever had, and he was fast finding it desperately necessary.

Draco's childhood, by comparison, sounded like a fairy tale of perfection. Vast gardens, toys and magic, grand parties with sumptuous meals and parents who lavished praise upon him. Then came the return of the Dark Lord, and his father had changed so quickly that it had been shocking. His temper had become short, and his mood cold and distant, as though Lucius had been a thousand miles away, even while sitting next to his wife and child.

There had been endless icy lectures about the expectations that would be upon Draco as an heir. It got much worse when it became apparent that Draco was queer, and not just marginally so, but drastically, radically extremely queer.

It had been the only time he'd been truly afraid of his father. Lucius had looked almost murderous when he discovered his heir was unlikely to provide grandchildren, and worst of all, unlikely to follow in Lucius' footesteps as a servant of Lord Voldemort.

The lectures had taken a darker tone, constantly implying that Draco was scarcely worthy of living, and insisting that at the very least he should try to honor his family by at least pretending to be strong and competent and ruthless.

There had been other conversations as well. About the pointlessness of love, the wicked and contemptible nature of people, the virtues of power and the safety it could buy. Then his father's imprisonment had shattered the tension riddled truce between them. The last year had been a living hell of visiting his father in Azkaban, only to be cursed at and snarled at in scorn while Lucius vented his frustrations on his only child.

Draco's mother had become quiet and distant, too. It was as if, without Lucius to guide her, she could scarcely make it through the day. Draco tried to bring his mother around with cheery news, gifts and the like, but Narcissa withdrew a little further from the world with every passing month. These days she rarely left her private suite in Malfoy Manor.

He'd been so terribly lonely the last year. All he could cling to was the idea that he might make his father proud by bringing the family name back into social prominence. Then vast parties could be held on the garden lawns again and maybe his mother could shine the way she always had, when company was about and she was the perfect hostess. It was a dream that had carried him through, until a reality better than his dreams had somehow fallen into his arms.

They learned other things about each other as well. Draco's penchant for Muggle music had been completely unknown to Harry and the rest of the school (although his fondness for pop divas wasn't exactly surprising), and that had led to other revelations.

Draco actually enjoyed bits of Muggle culture and really hadn't held any malice against non-purebloods since shortly after he'd reached adolescence. He quoted his father and mirrored the sentiments of other Slytherins in public, but privately cherished literature, art, poetry and music, whether Muggle or Wizarding made. Whatever image had been crafted to fool others, beneath it was a scintillatingly gifted mind and a soul that hungered for closeness and truth.

If Draco could be described as prejudiced, it was largely the prejudice of a meritocrat, holding to the belief that anyone who either possessed no talents, or failed to use the ones they had, deserved more or less whatever happened to them.

Harry found it a bit uncharitable, having spent too long in the shoes of 'the weak', and Draco seemed to be willing to re-examine his past beliefs and change them if given a good reason, so it passed between them without issue.

The discovery that Harry had an abiding love of museums, parks and gardens had caught Draco off guard. Harry loved wide open spaces and airy, spacious rooms ever since he'd been freed from living in that awful cupboard under the stairs. Draco made a mental note to tour the Malfoy gardens with Harry in tow someday. After all, they were nearly eighteen and only had a half year of school left before they could do anything they wanted.

Among the most confusing moments for Draco was being forced to rethink his opinion of the Weasleys in general. It was more of a generational feud, and he'd been given enough grief by Ron to keep it going, but hearing how well Molly and Arthur had treated his Harry left him reeling.

He'd always imagined the Weasley Burrow as some hovel of extreme privation owed to the absence of an understanding of basic contraception. The notion that it was a rowdy and joyful place, full of the deep and abiding love of a good family, shook up his world view more than he liked to admit. In the end he committed to the idea of at least trying to get along with the Weasleys...he found he could forgive a lot to anyone who had been so good to Harry.

The only night they hadn't spent together had been Friday. Most of the older students had gone to Hogsmeade to celebrate the weekend and Draco wanted the opportunity to pick up a present for Harry. Draco had sent a quick inquiry into town at the start of the week, and he knew it should be ready by now.

A certain caution was called for, since he did have Crabbe and Goyle by his side, and the rest of Slytherin was at least suspicious that something was going on with Draco. He'd kept questions down to a minimum with a few mild hexings, but he felt too good to really unload the way he once did. His silence on the subject was suspicious in itself, since he had a long history of cheerfully bragging about his exploits. Now he disappeared for the night and offered no explanations.

It was worrisome indeed when Crabbe and Goyle made fumbling overtures for him to offer some clue as to what he'd been up to. It had been kind of sweet, though. They'd been sitting in the common room of Slytherin and actually asked if he'd been feeling alright or needed any help, implying that they were there if he needed them. He'd considered hexing them along with everyone else within earshot , then simply answered, "No...I'm fine actually, but thanks for the thought."

That had been very out of character, but he couldn't help wanting to at least let his two most faithful minions know he appreciated them. They might feel differently if they knew what he was up to, but at least they'd stuck by him for six years, and it had been nice to at least not worry about two people from his house.

He left his hulking guardians in the street while he stepped into the jewelers and asked after his order. It was perfect, and he paid the man extra, both for his craftsmanship and his silence. It wasn't that he hadn't enjoyed this week thoroughly, but the thought he'd put into this gift might just get Harry's clothes off tomorrow night...and THAT thought put a smile on his face that was very difficult to conceal as he left the shop.

He was curious about what Harry was up to on this night apart, since he hadn't seen his boyfriend anywhere in Hogsmeade, even though Granger and The Weas...Weasley were wandering about. Still, he had appearances to keep up, and lavishing a few free rounds of Butterbeers to any Slytherins present at the Three Broomsticks was a part of it. He could wait, it would just make tomorrow night all the more special.

Harry already missed Draco's presence, but he had a mission of his own. He wanted to give Draco something special this weekend, and nothing had seemed right until he stumbled onto the unused amethyst in his robe pocket.

The spellwork was the trickiest, and he'd needed time and privacy to get it right. It was worth it a hundred times over if Draco liked it the way he thought he would. Presents are presents and always good, but Harry desperately wanted to make this one meaningful and personal, something that would last forever in Draco's memories as the most amazing thing ever given to him.

After Snape had let him out of detention, he ran to the top of one the unused towers and went to work in silence. He was sweating from the effort of concentration when he was finished, but it worked perfectly.

On the way back down to Gryffindor dorms, he mused privately over how lucky he was to even have someone worth making this effort over. Harry wasn't one to say anything he didn't mean, and he'd been very careful not to casually throw around words as important as 'I love you' in Draco's presence, but the urge to say it had been growing all week.

Every tidbit he'd learned about Draco had been like the sweetest nectar, and he wanted to say how he felt. It felt right, and good, and natural. He wasn't just going to just say it, either...he was going to do his best to show how much he meant it, too.