Hard Time

Chapter Twenty: A Decision to Make


After the shower, Harry and Draco winded up going outside to do some work in the garden. It was upon Draco's suggestion; after all, he hadn't really been outside, confined to the angry, dispiriting atmosphere of the Azkaban prison as he was, and the weather was fair and sunny. Harry didn't allow Draco a wand to help rake leaves and pull weeds, insisting that he use his hands instead. Surprisingly, Draco did not put up much protest. Apparently, a little manual labour in fresh air and sunlight was still a vast improvement over being abused in a dark and oppressing cell.

In the afternoon, Harry spent time composing a letter to Kingsley, letting him know that Draco was making good progress. He also made a point to mention Draco's help around the home and garden. That ought to impress Kingsley, Harry thought, as he probably still considered that Draco was too snobbish a pureblood to ever get his hands dirty. Perhaps that had been true before. Things had changed.

That night Draco slept with Harry again. Sex was a little easier the second time, now that Harry had an idea of what to expect, but he still wasn't allowed to touch Draco. Was it wrong that he fantasized about Draco tying Harry's hands over his head to make things easier? He didn't dare mention the thought to Draco, however, given his experiences. But the thought alone was more than enough to make him come, staring deep into Draco's eyes.

They fell into a rhythm of sorts, working on various projects around the house and discussing the possible strategies to bring to the Wizengamot. Harry was immersed in browsing the shelves and shelves of books and periodicals at the library’s legal section, where he chose the materials most pertinent to their case to bring back for Draco to peruse over, while Draco spent time writing out a very detailed defence argument. Harry assumed that Draco was also writing about his experiences at Azkaban but, since Draco was not forthcoming on the subject, he couldn't be sure. Meanwhile, Harry tried to read up surreptitiously on some therapy techniques for the sexually abused, but it only made him anxious and upset. According to the books, Harry was doing everything wrong. So why did Draco seem to be doing better, day after day? Maybe the books simply had never run into someone like Draco Malfoy before.

Harry knew he needed to schedule another meeting with Kingsley to go over their plan, but he wasn't ready just yet. Things were relatively peaceful at the moment. As Draco was starting to express interest in what was happening outside their little sanctuary, Harry began sending Soot out to get the Daily Prophet for them. It had been now over a week since he’d brought Draco to the Manor.

How Harry had survived nearly eighteen years without sex, he really didn't know.

It was a hot July day outside, bees buzzing in the garden, and an oppressive humidity blanketing the manor, as Harry sat poring over documents of past trials before the Wizengamot, hoping to extract some spark of knowledge that would give them the necessary edge in winning people over. Draco was sprawled leisurely on the sofa, utterly relaxed, holding the Daily Prophet in his hands, when he suddenly sat up, pushing the paper up close to his face to inspect a picture on the front page.

"It says here that Fenrir Greyback was spotted in Hogsmeade, not far from where they are conducting repairs to the Hogwarts Castle before the new term," Draco said incredulously, showing Harry a murky picture of a dark figure ducking behind the Shrieking Shack. Draco looked angrily at the paper, shaking it. "That's impossible. I thought he was dead."

"So did everyone," Harry said quietly, feeling a spike of fear go through him. He didn't know what business Greyback could possibly have at Hogwarts, but it couldn't be anything good. He set aside his book, fidgeting.

Draco caught the fidgeting, or perhaps the guilty look on Harry's face. "You knew. You knew he was alive." It was not a question.

Harry dragged a weary hand through his hair, slowly getting up, sensing something in Draco's demeanour that warned him that this could get ugly. "Kingsley warned me by owl, the day you arrived here. Those first days when I was so busy . . . I was securing the Manor and the grounds. You know. Since it was made public that it was I who purchased the place." He didn't feel the need to say it out loud that he would be the most likely first target of Greyback's revenge.

Draco stood as well, grey eyes darkening. "You knew all along. And yet you didn't think to warn me. He could have come here at any time. He could come and attack tonight." There was a barely restrained heat in him, hot enough to scorch Harry. The deep, scalding anger surprised Harry; he'd never seen Draco like this before. It wasn't the petty whining of a spoiled child. It was raging adult fury.

"I've seen to our protection! You were still recovering!" Harry had meant to tell Draco, he’d really meant to. It had simply never seemed like the right moment for that. Part of it was the wand. He was still undecided whether to return it to Draco. Still trying to decide if he trusted Draco enough with it.

"And what if he breached those defences? What if I were here alone, you off on one of your little escapades? I have nothing to defend myself with, Harry. No wand. You haven't seen fit to return it to me yet." Draco was staring at Harry, and Harry had the feeling he knew what he was thinking, could see the doubt in the shadow that suddenly cast his face; the fear.

"Kreacher would defend you. He'd warn me, and I'd come," Harry offered lamely.

Draco raked a hand through his hair, pacing and throwing Harry heated glances as he spoke. "We've been living here together for over a week now – I've been sleeping in your bloody bed, and yet you still don't trust me?" He rounded on Harry, and there was no disguising the hurt in his face. "What am I to you, Harry? Some little pet project? An experiment? Do you have any idea what it feels like to be in my shoes right now? What it’s like to know that my only safety and comfort lies in the hands of a man who, by all rights, should hate me?" He strode over to Harry and gripped him by the arm, eyes fierce and bright with unshed tears. "A word, Harry. Just one word, and you could send me back to Azkaban. I haven't done a single thing against you here; I've kept my word. And yet you treat me like I'm still a criminal. Pardon me if I don't leap for joy at the prospect of having to wait for you to come and rescue me. Again.”

With a disgusted snort, Draco released Harry and turned away. To Harry's dismay, Draco began taking long strides towards his room. Oh no. Not again. He couldn't let Draco run out like this, not without at least trying to fix things. Harry hurried to block Draco's way, taking hold of him by the arms and not letting go when Draco tried to wrench himself free. The moisture that had threatened was now flowing down Draco's cheeks in angry tears, tears which threatened to burn a hole in Harry's heart. Draco was right. Harry hadn't given him the chance. And now he might lose everything that had happened between them. "Don't go," he pleaded in a soft voice, pulling Draco into a hold, despite Draco's pronounced efforts to fight himself free.

Draco shook his head slowly, face screwed up in pain, and his chest heaving with barely restrained sobs. He tried again to break free, but Harry wrapped his arms around him tightly, silently absorbing his rage, soothing away his tears with his unyielding presence. After a moment, Draco spoke in a low voice, half-choked with emotion. "I'm so tired of being afraid. I wish I were like you sometimes. I wish I were brave."

Harry swallowed with difficulty. Draco's pain today was different than it had been the first day he'd held him; this time he'd been the cause of it. He began rubbing Draco's back, very gently. "I get scared too. You saw it, remember, that year the Dementors were at Hogwarts. You saw how afraid they made me. Did you know that Dumbledore asked me to give up my life? He said it was the only way we had if we wanted to destroy Voldemort. He said that I had to let Voldemort kill me. I had to walk right up to him, and just . . ." Harry chuckled bitterly, feeling again the fear he felt, the gaping abyss of despair. "Just let him kill me. I was very, very afraid. But I was more afraid of losing more of my friends to that savage. I guess that that's what made me brave enough to do it."

"How very Gryffindor of you, sacrificing yourself for others. That is the absolute opposite of everything I have ever been taught as a Slytherin." Draco's voice was dry, sardonic, but touched with something painful and honest. Harry drew back a little, so that he could see Draco's face. There was a longing there, that made his stomach do a slow flip. "I could never do that," Draco continued, glancing away when he noticed Harry looking. "Self promote, not sacrifice. That's what we believed in."

Harry nodded; certainly that's all Draco would have known as Lucius's son. A thought came to him. "But in a funny way, look what's happened. By sacrificing myself, I actually promoted myself. The Ministry would bend over backwards for me right now."

Draco snorted, wiping at his face, smiling a little. "You were just lucky. You should have been dead." It seemed safe to say that Draco wasn't going to run, so Harry released him, allowing him to straighten himself up a little. A touch of the haughty poise in Draco’s stance returned. "Come to think of it, if being brave means I have to be thick-headed like you, I'd rather pass."

For some reason, Harry couldn't seem to stop staring at him. Tear-stained, and yet still so dignified, despite the fear Harry knew was inside him. He'd never thought of Draco as noble before, but there was a touch of it now. Maybe he really was changing. Certainly the old Draco would never have admitted his fears to Harry. "I'll get your wand. I do trust you. I'm sorry – I should have told you the first day I learned of Greyback. But I was scared, too."

There was a wry turn of Draco's lip, a flash of pain across his face that hinted at how much he was trying to control his features. He looked down, wringing his hands a little. "Thank you. I don't understand . . ." He shook his head. "I don't understand why you've been putting so much time and effort into this. Into helping me." He looked up, and the smouldering pain was back in his eyes, almost as if he expected a blow. "More Gryffindor folly, I suppose?"

Harry shook his head. He knew the true answer now, as he hadn't the last time Draco had asked. "Because I care about you." More than Draco knew. More than he dared to admit.

Draco was silent a moment, head bowed, standing still. Harry waited for a response, hoping for something from him that might hint at a return of feeling, anything. Tentatively, he drew a little closer, reaching out a hand. Draco moved away, still looking down, hands stiff at his sides. Harry tried to ignore the burn of disappointment.

"I need some time to think," Draco said softly.

Harry nodded; what else could he do? "I'll have your wand ready, whenever you want to get it," he said in return, and watched as Draco turned away and headed up the stairs to his room. It felt that his efforts had not been enough.

Or maybe he'd said too much.

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TBC

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