Forgotten Not Forgiven

Author's Note: Thanks to Laurel for beta reading this chapter for me. I have exciting things in mind for our boys.

Chapter 10 Regrettably

Draco had never felt so unsure in all his life, and it wasn’t a good feeling at all. He was used to a sense of sly confidence but he had learned only too late how clever Harry really was. That lie detector spell had been sheer brilliance, and Draco chastised himself over and over for not having the forethought to counteract such a measure. Had he been courting a fellow Slytherin, he surely would have cast a Finite spell before speaking and it was probably his oversight of Harry’s Slytherin tendencies that upset him the most. It would have been so easy to outmaneuver if he hadn’t underestimated the man. And that was his fault alone.

There was nothing to be done about it now. It would be wrong to try and erase Harry’s memory of his confession and he’d already done enough wrong to the man. Unfortunately, now he had no idea what he could do to make it all up to him. At no point while executing his plan had he ever thought for a moment that Harry would reject him. They were so well suited that it was uncanny and Draco assumed that Harry would see that too and relent, regardless of how angry he was at Draco for a while. His father’s advice about assuming rang loudly in his ears, but he quickly brushed it aside. It was too late for all of that now.

He was left at a loss as to what Harry would value that only he could provide for him. He hadn’t been prepared to tell the man everything, or for him to so quickly decipher the plan, but part of him felt light and relieved that it was finally out in the open.

Now all he had to do was convince Harry that they belonged together, which was turning out to be more difficult than Draco had ever imagined.

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It had been ages since Harry had visited Godric’s Hollow and he could have gone ages more. The place rather gave him the creeps, but at this point there weren’t a lot of options left to him. Grimmauld Place had been sold to purchase the flat he and Ginny had bought together in London and, at the moment, she was living comfortably there and according to their last fire call, she intended to keep it.

Harry didn’t care. He was happy to be rid of the place that had held so many nasty memories, but now it seemed he was just exchanging it for a home that held even more. His birthplace was a ruined manor; its roof in shambles and the entire home was in a general state of disrepair. If he listened closely he could still hear his mother’s screams from inside. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the tiny hanging gate aside and stepped into the yard.

He never thought he’d be put in a position where he would be considering polishing the home back to its original shine, but he’d never had the heart to sell it either, so here he was. There was a gaping hole in one part of the ceiling where it had been blasted to bits on the second floor, and there was no telling what he’d find inside. He steeled himself as he realized that today was the day he would have to discover a part of himself he’d been too afraid to see his whole life.

The cobblestone path leading up to the house was uneven and overgrown with weeds. He’d probably have to rip the whole thing up and reset it before it would lay smooth for people to walk upon. All the windows were all Victorian stained glass and were probably beautiful in their time. They depicted muted pictures of flowers in frosted blues and faint purples, though now they were grimy and some of them were cracked or shattered in their frames. Columns flanked the entryway and flowering vines overran each one. This was the only thing so far that Harry didn’t think he’d change about the front. He liked the effect it created and decided that just a little pruning would make it look perfectly presentable.

The red door hung loosely on its hinges and Harry had to shove it quite hard to get it to budge enough to allow him to slip through. To his relief, all signs of the tragedy that had taken place here were long erased by decades of neglect and the debris from the battle itself. The foyer was small, he could almost touch both sides of it when standing in the center, and there was a dusty coat rack to one side with a moth eaten hat resting on it. He stared at the hat for a long moment, picturing his father placing it there upon coming home after a long day’s work and then shook himself and turned to face the rest of the house. Straight ahead was a half-wall with a bench and directly above that was the banister for the stairs. They made a sort of ‘L’ in the narrow space, which Harry quite liked, but he ignored them for the moment. He wasn’t ready to revisit his old room yet.

To each side of the foyer there was an elegant archway, one leading to a dining room and one leading to a sitting room. There wasn’t a lot of damage to the structure down here. Just a couple of scorch marks on the walls, which was something Harry refused to acknowledge just yet. He knew his father had died downstairs trying to keep Voldemort from him and his mother, but he couldn’t think about any of that at the moment, not with the sting he already felt in his eyes.

Most of the furniture would have to be replaced. It reeked of mildew and some of the wood was gnawed and falling apart. No doubt several creatures had made this place their home over the years it had sat abandoned. The dining room and kitchen seemed in decent shape, though he wagered the appliances would never work properly. Downstairs he discovered a half-bath, a guest bedroom, and a sort of den area where he found some baby toys that must have been his.

He took several deep and steady breaths at the bottom of the staircase knowing he would find his nursery where his mother died to save his life. He felt unprepared and unable to make it all the way to the top, it suddenly seemed so far and his heart felt as though it might give out if he tried. He took one tentative step to place his foot on the first stair and then he waited –for what, he had no idea. His heart didn’t slow in its tumultuous thrumming and he was rooted to the spot. “I can’t do it,” he told the house. “How can I live here if I can’t even make it up these stairs?”

The house didn’t reply, and Harry took in the silence of the home and the light streaming in from the top of the stairs and he sighed, forcing himself to ascend. The hallway felt narrow, but that was most likely his own anxiety making everything feel as though it was crushing in around him. Several doors led off from the landing but only one of them was open, and that was the room he didn’t want to see. From the hall he could make out a black stain on the carpet where his mother must have fallen, and in the corner, a crib. His crib. The place he’d been sleeping when Voldemort attacked his home, and his family, and his life, and destroyed it all.

Now look where he was, back to the beginning. And why? Because he’d tried to make a life for himself and he’d failed. Suddenly it all came swooping down on him, the deterioration of his marriage, the betrayal of Draco and worse, the loss of his future and dreams. Harry collapsed to his knees under the weight of it all and let the tears stream unwaveringly down his cheeks.

Just as quickly as the wave of depression hit him, it evaporated, but it had still left its mark. He couldn’t stand another moment in that house, so he took the stairs two at a time and bolted out the door as if he had an enemy on his heels –and in a way he did. As soon as he reached the broken cobblestone walkway, he turned and faced the home one final time before shouting ‘Incendio’ and watching the nightmares of his childhood erupt in flames.

When the home was nothing but a smoldering pile of ashes, Harry put out the fire and left Godric’s Hollow for good, closing another chapter of his life in the mission to move on.

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Harry wasn’t really in the mood for any visitors, and the one person he certainly didn’t want to see leaning against his closed office door as if he owned the entire building, was Draco Malfoy. He still didn’t know how he felt about the man or even what to say to him. The Slytherin had made and executed a duplicitous plan to bed his wife and destroy their marriage. He had no idea what had gone through the blond’s head, but even if his intention had been to build a happy life for the two of them, Draco was sorely out of line.

He ignored the blond outright as he made his way into his office after the exhausting trip to Godric’s Hollow that morning. He probably looked a mess, but since he wasn’t trying to impress the Slytherin lingering in his doorway, he tried not to care. Instead he focused on the large pile of parchments in front of him and pretended there wasn’t an attractive man who was crazy (literally) about him hovering just outside his office.

When it became apparent that his stalker refused to leave, Harry turned his attention to the man hoping he might find a way to make him bugger off so he could get some work done. “What can I do for you, Malfoy?” he asked reluctantly, afraid of what the answer might be.

“It’s more what I can do for you,” Draco replied easily as though Harry hadn’t ignored him for the past twenty minutes, and he took a seat across from Harry’s desk as if he’d been invited.

Harry narrowed his eyes and gave the man the full weight of his stare, which had made grown men cower but didn’t even make Draco flinch. “I think you’ve done quite enough for me already, thanks.”

“Not so,” Draco corrected. “All this time I’ve been selfish, thinking only what I could do to win your affection, which would make me very happy. I wasn’t thinking about you and your needs.”

Harry’s eyebrow lifted slightly to indicate that he thought the Slytherin was trying to be sneaky again. “So?”

“So, now you need a place to live and I have all the available flats in London. I’d like to let you see them, and if there is one that you like, it will be yours,” he finished, looking as if he might be expecting praise of some kind.

“I would say that was rather generous of you except that you rented them all to try and put me under your thumb, so I think I’ll decline and find someplace of my own,” Harry stated levelly. “Was that all?”

Draco’s eyes widened just a fraction before they returned to their normal cool indifference. “What if there were no strings attached? I could break the lease and you could form a new one with the realtor.”

“You would do that?” Harry asked, suddenly intrigued. He was in desperate need of a place to stay and he didn’t know what else to do. He’d live out of a hotel if he must, but then his visits with Teddy would have to be postponed and he didn’t want that.

“For a price, of course,” Draco replied.

Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head in dismay. He couldn’t believe he’d ever thought this man was capable of being a good match for him. “Goodbye, Malfoy,” he droned and then went back to his paperwork.

“Don’t you even want to hear what the price would be?” he asked, not taking the hint for him to leave.

“Knowing you, it would be more than I can afford,” Harry replied and made a shooing motion toward the door.

“Dinner,” Draco blurted.

Harry looked up briefly from his paperwork to narrow his eyes at the blond. “You want me to take you to dinner in exchange for a flat?”

“No,” Draco corrected. “I want you to let me take you to dinner. I would break the lease and incur all the penalties associated with that and I would buy you dinner at any restaurant of your choosing. Just give me a chance, Harry.”

The man’s tone was pleading, but Harry was extremely cautious. Draco had already proven his penchant for smooth lies and underhanded dealings; Harry refused to let the man fool him again.

“I’m sorry,” Harry sighed. “It’s too great a cost.”

“Lunch,” Draco amended but Harry shook his head. “Breakfast then, though I would prefer it came after we spent the night together.”

Harry laughed. He couldn’t control it as the chuckled erupted from his throat. He found Draco so annoyingly charming, but it was too much too soon. “Malfoy, I just need some time and some space.”

Draco sighed and looked genuinely defeated. “I see,” he replied softly and then slid a parchment on top of the stack Harry was already looking at. “These are the addresses to the flats. They’ve been warded to allow your entry. When you find one you like, owl this address at the bottom and my assistant Gwen will make the arrangements for the lease to be transferred to your name,” he explained as he pointed to the paper. “I still want you to be happy whether I get something out of it or not.”

Draco’s eyes wouldn’t meet Harry’s as he turned to leave the Auror alone, but Harry couldn’t seem to look anywhere else as he watched the man leave. Draco seemed genuine and honest when he spoke of putting Harry’s well being before his own and when he thought about it, he couldn’t remember a time when anyone had ever done that for him. At least not since his parents’ tremendous sacrifice when he was just a baby. Ron and Hermione had always looked out for each other along with looking out for him, well, Hermione had at least. Ginny turned out to be even more selfish than Harry could have imagined, and even Dumbledore had been looking out for the well being of all mankind before that of a scrawny little orphan.

Against his better judgment he pulled out a small scroll and scribbled a tiny message on it before sending it to the Owlery on his way out. He was going to give the flats a once over and grab one up before Malfoy changed his mind.

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Foiled again.

Draco thought Harry would have been receptive to at least one of his requests, after all, in spite of Harry being livid with him; Draco still had the ability to make the man smile. That had to count for something, right? Apparently not enough.

Still, he would see to it that Harry’s needs were taken care of even if his weren’t. If Harry needed a flat, Draco would get him a flat, if he needed time, he would give him time, if he needed a glorious shag, Draco would certainly be obliged to help him there as well. Still, it was a blow to his ego having walked out of that office without even a date for tea. Lucius would have been so disappointed in him.

As he handed his robe to the house-elf at the door, Draco thought about what else he might be able to provide for the reluctant hero. He’d barely made it into his study when he heard the telltale clattering of a beak against glass, and he went immediately to the window to let the Ministry bird inside. “Well, hello there,” he cooed, scratching its neck as he held out his hand.

A small scroll dropped into his palm and Draco eyed it curiously as he tossed the bird a meaty snack and sent him on his way. Wasting no time discovering the contents of his message, Draco nearly laughed aloud when he read it.

Pick me up at seven.

HJP

The note was perfectly Harry –short, sweet, and to the point. Something he’d said must have made an impact on that hard shell of Harry’s, and he didn’t know what it was but he hoped to repeat it over and over until the man was his.

Author's Note: So, a tiny break through... will it be enough to allow Draco to woo Harry or is it too little too late?