Against a Sea of Troubles

III.

The bed in the extra room (prepared by Mrs. Weasley just in case Draco should “take the bait” as it were) was relatively soft, yet firm enough so that Draco bounced a bit when he leaped onto it.

His mother smiled from the doorway at his childish antics. “I haven’t seen you do that since you were a wee little wizard…”

He looked up at her with a grin on his face. “It’s nice to have a bed after having a choice between the floor or a rickety old armchair.” He sighed, burrowing under the sheets with his head nestled in the soft pillows.

“I’ll leave you to get settled in, then.”

Draco looked up from beneath the covers to see his mother close the door with a slight smile upon her face. He wriggled about until he was most comfortable, then promptly fell asleep.


Harry gathered his dishes together after a quick snack in the kitchen, put them in the sink, and headed up to his bedroom.

After Mrs. Weasley realized that there would be a number of people joining the family in the Burrow, she’d had a few of the wizards from the Order add on another floor. This is where Harry, Narcissa, and Draco all had their rooms, along with a room that Tonks and Remus shared. The Burrow was the safest place for a werewolf and his wife, after all.

Rather than use magic to alert any extra attention, anyone living under the Weasley’s roof was required to refrain from any unnecessary magic, including Apparating up the stairs to bedrooms, or down the stairs to breakfast in the morning. At first, the twins had been ferociously opposed to this rule, but quickly saw their mother’s side of it, along with their mother’s fiery temper.

Harry loved the Weasleys, each of them especially for their own special personalities, but couldn’t help but feel glad that he would not be subjected to being a part of their family for the rest of his life. True, he could have joined their brood had he shown any interest whatsoever in Ginny, but to tell the truth, she really wasn’t his type. Whether he lacked an Oedipus complex (red hair and determined attitude ring a bell, anyone?), or simply found Ginny to be lacking in the proper organs necessary to stimulate the Boy Wonder hanging between her legs, it did not matter. Ginny was infatuated with some other wizard from her class at Hogwarts, anyways. Funny, Harry didn’t even care enough to remember his name.

As for the rest of the Weasley brood, Harry was quite sure that they would all likely produce Weasley offspring, with the exception of Fred and George, who were just all too immature to ever even consider settling down with a family.

Harry sighed at the thought of a family of his own. Sure, he wanted one, but how could a gay wizard have children? There was always the thought of a surrogate mother… Hell, Hermione had once even suggested it to him, saying she wouldn’t mind in the least. She was such a generous, caring witch. Harry was grateful to have her as a friend, though she wouldn’t have to make that sacrifice for him. He had yet to find a wizard of his own. It was hard to find a fellow wizard-who-likes-wizards, being that there were very few places that he’d be able to go and search one out without being recognized as the Famous Harry Potter.

The pad-pad-padding of his feet seemed to echo in the hallway despite the woven rugs on the floor. Noticing a light coming from underneath Draco’s door, Harry knocked, feeling gracious enough to say good night to the new guest, regardless of it being the Ferret.

When no answer came to his knock, Harry opened the door a crack to find Draco sprawled under his blankets, his feet sticking out from underneath the covers. Harry crept closer to turn of the Muggle lamp next to Draco’s bed, figuring the blonde wizard either didn’t know how to do it himself or had fallen asleep before getting the chance to. He hesitated, seeing the almost angelic look upon the wizard’s face. For a young man so caught up in the despicable and horrible ways of the world, he seemed so innocent and carefree in his sleep. There was even a slight suggestion of a smile around the corners of his lips.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, Harry drew back from the side of Draco’s bed and turned out the light. He turned to close the door behind him to see that Draco’s head had shifted positions on his pillow. Seeing, but not realizing, Harry closed the door, his spirits lifted slightly.

As soon as he heard the door close, Draco’s eyes snapped wide open. What the devil had Potter been doing in his rooms? He’d figured out that Potter had meant to come in and say something or other, then had come over to turn off the light… So why then was he quiet for so long before he actually turned the damn thing off?

Never mind that. All Draco really wanted now was sleep.



Breakfast the next morning was less tense than Harry expected, what with Draco’s late night arrival coming as a surprise to the rest of the household. Both Ginny and Hermione were acting relatively civil towards him, remembering even to say “please” and “thank you” when passing platters of food on either side of him. Ron, however, was close to having a conniption fit on his end of the table. Hermione, upon seeing his reluctance to sit anywhere near the blond, decided she’d have to provide the welcome mat for Ron as well. Ginny, however, noticed how much Draco had grown up in the few years since the school had been forced to close down (on account of Dumbledore’s death) and had sat right down in the chair on his other side, starting up a conversation in what could almost be described as a cheerful manner. Almost, but not quite.

Before too long, every possible innocuous topic of conversation had been exhausted and the table fell into silence as the remaining few finished up their meals. Draco took both Hermione’s and Ginny’s plates along with his own to the sink, much to the delight of Mrs. Weasley (who had always been a sucker for chivalry).

After dinner, Hermione and Ginny dragged Draco off to the living area to get better acquainted with the newest member of the household. Despite the right arsehole he'd been in school, Draco was a pleasant conversationalist to the two witches, keeping them giggling and chatting for nearly an hour. Harry sat in a chair across the room, observing them while he was supposed to be compiling a list of possible Horcruxes. So far, he come to the conclusion that in addition to the journal that had put Ginny at its mercy back in the Trio's second year, there was also Marvolo Gaunt’s ring, which Dumbledore had destroyed previous to their sixth year.

Harry puzzled over the five possible remaining Horcruxes. There was, of course, the possibility of the locket already having been destroyed by R.A.B., who Harry personally thought to be Regulus Black, though he wasn’t certain. Then, if Dumbledore’s presumptions were correct, there would technically be four Horcruxes remaining, three tangible ones to destroy if you counted Voldemort as his seventh piece of his soul.

Judging from the evidence that the remaining Horcruxes were likely objects that had once belonged to the founders, Harry had very few places to turn. Where could he hope to find these objects? They certainly wouldn’t be lying about somewhere. It was likely that they were hidden away, protected by traps and magic like the false locket Horcrux had been.

It was so hard to build substantial theories based on the little information he had. Harry sighed, drawing Ginny’s attention away from the Hermione’s conversation with Draco about something ridiculous like Potions.

Harry removed his glasses to rub his sore eyes, then felt a hand rest on his shoulder. He looked up to see Ginny’s sunny disposition with a hint of arched eyebrow, showing that she was concerned for her friend.

She sat down on a chair beside him, closing the book on his lap. “You’re working too hard. You’re developing stress wrinkles and gray hair, which will prevent you from ever snagging an appropriate boyfriend.”

Harry’s attention snapped up to the redheaded girl who was smirking at him knowingly. His eyes narrowed. “Tell no one, please.”

“It’s pretty obvious,” Ginny answered. “Don’t blame me if there are other people that know, ‘cos I haven’t told anyone.”

“Obvious?” Harry’s eyebrows shot dangerously up dangerously close to his hairline.

Ginny laughed. “Of course! How could I know you and NOT think you were a poofter? You have to admit it. I’ve noticed you more than once staring at a very attractive wizard’s arse for more than a few seconds! You weren’t just comparing; you were enjoying the view.”

Harry scowled. “Oh, hush up.”

She grabbed his hand and dragged him up out of his chair. “Come on! Stop being such a prat and join the conversation.”

Harry resigned himself to his fate and allowed the witch to drag him to the chair where she had been sitting before, shoving him into the seat first so she could rest comfortably in his lap with a leg draped over the arm of the chair. From beneath his unruly hair, Harry could see a minor look of surprise wash over Draco’s handsome face.

“And here I thought you were dating that Slytherin bloke…” he drawled, shaking his blond hair back from his face as he shot Harry a displeased look.

Ginny giggled. “I am!”

“Well then what the bloody fuck are you doing on Potter’s lap?”

Hermione cut in. “Harry’s like a brother Ginny and I have known since we were kids, Draco. It wouldn’t mean a thing if I even gave him a peck on the cheek!”

Harry, unused to being the center of such a peculiar conversation while present, began to feel remarkably out of place. Ginny, noticing his uneasiness, cut in. “He really is just a big brother. Besides, I’m not his type.”

“Oh, really? And just what happens to be the Boy Wonder’s type?” Draco drawled.

Harry blushed a bright red. He really, really didn’t want to think about answering that question, least of all confessing to Draco Malfoy that his sexual preferences were a bit different than most other wizards.

Draco Malfoy noticed the blush and spared no prisoners. “Oh, dear me… What’s this? Does the Boy Wonder not fancy girls?”

Harry grew even more frustrated, flushing nearly purple.

“I can’t believe it, “ Draco said, though he hardly looked shocked. “Harry Potter, soon to be the Saviour of the Wizarding World, is a flaming homosexual!”

Here, Harry had to stand up for himself. “I’m hardly a flaming homosexual! I just happen to not like girls, though I’m hardly in-your-face about it to anyone!”

“You certainly never told me,” said Hermione.

Harry looked up at the redhead still seated on his legs. “See? It’s not THAT obvious.”

“Oh, yes, it actually is,” Hermione interrupted. “You’d just never flat-out told me that you didn’t like girls.”

He buried his face in his hands, anxiously wishing to just disappear forever into the flowered patterns of the armchair. He felt much better, however, when he heard Draco’s response.

“I’m just ashamed that I didn’t recognize it sooner, myself.”

“Ashamed?” Ginny asked.

“Of course! Who, other than another queer, would be most qualified to recognize a wizard-loving wizard?”


Author's Note: Yay! So the boys are finally both officially out of the closet, so I can get on with the story!

... I have so many cool ideas. MUA HAAA!!!

Please, RATE AND REVIEW! Please please please, pretty please with sugar on top? And a cherry? Yum... I want a sundae now.

-SS-