Unconditionally

Author: TheSiner
Title: Unconditionally - continued
Genre: Drama, Romance.
Pairing: Harry/Draco (main), Hermione/Ron
Summary: HP/DM slash. Sequel to Unconditionally Draco and Harry are happy together, but others have hard time accepting it.
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: These characters are not my own and belong to J.K. Rowling and affiliates.
Warnings: slash (duh!), swearing, sex, dubious consent, some fluff. Not beta-edited.
Setting after Voldemort’ demise. Kind of HBP compliant, but almost ignores DH.

AN: Porn in this chapter. If you want a milder version, search for it on fanfiction.net.

2.
Ron’s POV

I can’t spot anything out of order when we step into Harry’s living room. Oh, I can already mentally hear Hermione saying: ‘Honestly, Ronald, I don’t like it any more than you, but what did you expect? A portrait of You-Know-Who on the drawing room wall? Malfoy spreading some kind of evil taint around the house or something? Don’t be ridiculous.’

Yeah, yeah, bloody reasonable she is and I am not, especially about certain things. But then, people are not always reasonable and not everyone is smart and logical, most of the people are stupid, irrational and they cause chaos and act unpredictably. Sometimes she forgets that. But anyway insists that I have to be reasonable. Can’t completely blame her, but it would be nice just follow instincts once in a while and, for example, hex Malfoy out of Harry’s house.

Harry walks into the room and greets us. Well, he is a bit tense to put it lightly.

“Oh, hi, I didn’t know you were coming,” which probably means that we are not very welcome. “I am cooking; we were just about to have breakfast…”

Hermione shifts next to me, she is as uncomfortable as I am and as Harry… err, did I hear correctly? Breakfast? It is two o’clock… and ‘we’… oh, I wish there was a way I could suddenly retain ignorance of a five year old and not know what that implies.

“So, how are you feeling?” That’s Hermione being subtle. Even if I am not the subtle kind, I can recognize it. Subtlety, that is.

But, for fucks sake! It’s obvious that he is doing alright and without us here. I want to get out of here before this gets any worse. I have no idea how to deal with it, and I rather not at the moment.

This is like picking up a stick (intentionally) and merrily walking into the Forbiden forest with to have a poke at acromantulas’ nest. Incredibly pointless and stupid thing to do, especially no one is forcing you to. Right?

But ‘Mione has other plans and an average wizard like I could never hope to change her mind. She heads straight for the kitchen ignoring my and Harry’s unease and everything I don’t want to deal with, making Harry to let us in that subtle, polite way saying something about tea he could offer us and for a moment the reality drowns in her small talk… well, I wonder how she does it, but in the end it is obvious that the only way Harry could make us leave would be to tell us to bugger off and we all now that he wouldn’t. Harry’s a nice bloke, but at the moment I wish he wasn’t.

I want to get the hell out of here. I think we should let Harry have time and space. In other words, leave him fucking alone.

The reality hits me back with full force as we walk into the kitchen and HE is sitting there as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Malfoy looks just out of shower; his hair is still a bit damp and dishevelled. He is wearing Harry’s dark green bathrobe which is large and makes him look like a little boy in his father’s clothes. His skin and hair are equally pale and flawless, even his eyes are very light. It doesn’t look natural.
Hermione once said that the way Ferret looked probably had something to do with albinism caused by all the pure-blood inbreeding. I am not sure if she was serious or not, though…

I can grudgingly admit that I can see why Harry could be physically attracted to Malfoy. If one likes prissy blondes. Like Fleur. Well, Fleur is very pretty. Like very, very pretty… But I know that I don’t really get that liking guys thing, I haven’t even been curious like some guys sometimes are, have never wanted to do any of the funny stuff some blokes were getting up to in the dorms.

But I guess, Malfoy is good-looking. Kind of girly. But it would make even less sence if he was big and hairy…
Still, I don’t see what else beyond looks could be there. It’s easier for me to accept
that Harry is only after Malfoy’s arse. I am a guy after all and see nothing wrong with wanting to shag someone, because they look nice. Kind of harsh, but…

“Hello,”

Hermione greets the ferret almost cheerfully and sits down at the table.

“Good morning,”

Malfoy sounds less chirpy. I think he is as uneasy as Harry and I.

Harry is lucky; he can busy himself with preparing and serving tea. But he is very quick and effective about that so it doesn’t take a lot of time and very soon I am forced to sit down to have a cup of tea which I don’t really want. Harry is watching the toaster, which is about to spit out the toasts every moment now, Malfoy is looking at Harry and around the kitchen. Hermione is trying to be discreet about scrutinising Harry and Malfoy. I am staring at my mug of tea and glancing at those three a bit.

“The food is ready,” Harry breaks the uncomfortable silence and we all look at him.

“Do you want anything?”

I shake my head; I will be lucky to get that damn tea down and keep it there.

Harry sets two plates on the table on opposite side of us and Malfoy almost falls off the bar-stool he’s been sitting on. Harry catches him by the hand and steadies him. I can’t miss that they hold on each other for a moment longer than necessary.

I know that I shouldn’t feel as if Malfoy is molesting my best friend just by being there. It is absurd in more ways than one, but I am not the miss Hermi-rationality. So I feel a sudden urge to growl.

I know that Harry and Malfoy both wish we just buggered off and I would gladly bugger off. But if Hermione were an animagus she would probably be one of those little dogs whose teeth have to be forcefully pried open if they get hold of something. Ok, that is one more thing I will never say aloud and I don’t think anyone will call me a coward because of it.

Hermione goes on about things no one cares about at the moment. Like what Mum’s been knitting, the size of Fleur’s pregnant belly.

“—and you know what, Harry? I think I am going to get Mr. Weasley a calculator for his birthday. One that works in solar batteries. It might even work with magic around! Isn’t it a great idea?”

I think this is getting a bit embarrassing.

“Hermione,” Harry finally interrupts her; I think he has had enough. “It is all very nice, but what I want to know is why do you think you still have to check up on me?” Ok, he’s pissed off. I told her that he would be. Harry’s a private bloke, and very independent too.

“Excuse me?” Hermione already sounds offended.

“Why did you think that coming here today was a good idea?”

“Harry…” Now she’s indignant.

“Hermione, I know that you mean well and so on, but at the moment I can’t appreciate it,”

“But…”

“But what?”

Two red spots appear on her cheeks, I am so not looking forward to this conversation. I knew it was coming, but I guess I was hoping…

“You were very sick for the past month Harry James Potter!”

“And you know that the reason why I was ‘sick’, if you want to call it that, is not there anymore. We talked yesterday, didn’t we?”

See, that’s exactly what I told her our yesterday conversation was about. That was Harry politely telling us to bugger off. But she wouldn’t listen.

“Gone, the reason is gone? He is there sitting in your kitchen at the moment!”

Well, now Harry’s eyes are about shoot sparks of anger.

“He is not the reason why I felt bad, quite the opposite! He is a reason why I feel very good!”

“Oh, and what will happen when he leaves? Have you thought about that?”

“He is also present in this room,”

They both turn to look at Malfoy who stares back haughtily. Under different circumstances it would be funny.

“I know,” Harry’s irritation is obviously half-gone as soon as he turns towards the git.

“Really hard to miss,” I grumble

Malfoy sneers, that little bastard.

But then he stands up.

“You know what, Potter, I am full. Or rather, I have had enough. I think there are things you should discuss with your friends and there is a book I wanted to read upstairs, so, have fun,”

Don’t kill each other would be more appropriate.

However, Malfoy strolls out of the kitchen as if he owns the place and is being oh so gracious by allowing us here. The nerve of that little shit! I really don’t understand how Harry can stand him. there is always sex, but even I must admit that no matter how good someone is in the sack, it doesn’t make up for awful personality. My fling with Lavender taught me that much.

“Harry,” Hermione says. “I am sure that there is something we can do, some other solution. I will start researching and I am sure that we will find something. You know what? I will go to Hogwarts tomorrow and ask professor McGonagall if I could use the library--”

“Have you ever considered that I might not want to be cured, Hermione!”

“I know there is some kind of irresistible pull and everything, but if you try to think about it logically…” oh, I am sure that’s exactly what Harry’s about to do as soon as we get out of his house (ha, ha).

“Come on, Harry, he’s such a git! How can you stand him!”

I know I have to support her in some way if I don’t want to have some huge argument with her later: “You could do much better, mate.”

Harry just sighs tiredly: “I don’t want to fight with you about it, you are my best friends and I love you and I know you mean well. But I love Draco too. I know that you don’t like him and he doesn’t like you and I have no idea what to do about it. But he is here because he wants to be with me and I can stand him, because I love him and I don’t really care, why. I just do. Besides, he is different with me.”

“I find it hard to believe,”

“And I am not in a mood to argue with you. What do you want me to do? Do I have to convince you with logical arguments and such? You know I suck at it. And what if I don’t feel like I exactly need your approval? I am not saying that I wouldn’t like to get it, but I am not going to break up with Draco because you don’t approve!”

He sounds so determined. Well, I kind of saw that coming, Harry’s as stubborn as they come when he has to be, I don’t know what Hermione was expecting, but I see how the expression on her face is changing.

“Ok, Harry I think I understand…” she gets up with a hurt expression on her face. I really hate it, when she’s hurt and it’s hard for me to not get angry with Harry right now.

“I don’t think you do.”

“No, it’s fine Harry, I understand, you don’t need us now.”

“Hermione! How can you say that! Only because I don’t agree with you, doesn’t mean I don’t want to be your friend anymore!”

“I think you made it perfectly clear that you don’t want us to…”

Harry stands up as well, looking totally pissed off now. Well, yeah, that was ind of harsh.

“Hermione you are trying to run my life right now. Don’t.”

I am no friend of Malfoy’s, but I have to agree with Harry. She is going too far. Sometimes women can be so bossy. She reminds me of mum a lot. Mum is the same; she needs to be the one to control everyone. She kept going on for years about Bill’s hair, trying to get him to cut it. And she gets so affronted when we don’t do everything as she wants. I would like to do something about Malfoy as well, but this is not the way we should go about it.

“Hermione, I think we should leave Harry alone,” I try to show Harry that I am feeling a bit sorry about everything. I didn’t want to start a fight, well, I didn’t want to come here at all and I still think I was right.
“Let’s go home Hermione. Owl us if you need something, mate, or if you want to go somewhere to have a pint.”

Harry smiles at me and I am relieved to see that we are still Ok.

But just one look at Hermione and I see that I am in the doghouse now. Doesn’t matter. She will come around. I don’t know what came over her. I am not going to boost, but I have learned some things, like that there are times when it’s better not to argue and leave Harry alone; she should have noticed that this is one of those occasions.

And, come on, only a wuss would allow another person to dictate who they should date, you can argue as much as you want, but that won’t change anything only turn them against you.

Damn, but I just realise that if someone told me not to date Hermione, I would have been less polite than Harry. Of course no one would say anything about her, but that’s not the point.

And there is no way I’m loosing Harry because of Malfoy.

Draco’s POV

I leave Potter with Granger and Weasley.

I calmly walk out of the kitchen pretending that their little get-together doesn’t concern me. Its doesn’t bother me at all.
Yes, I will break my wand and use it as firewood before I will admit that it does. But I haven’t forgotten that because of Weasel Harry refused my hand and friendship that fateful day we rode the Hogwarts’ Express for the first time.

It’s hard to accept that my lover is downstairs with two people who are very close to him and judging by all I know, maybe the most important people in his life. And guess, what? They can’t stand the sight of me.
All my instincts are creaming at me, demanding me to do something about it. But I am out of ideas and… I am just not feeling up to it.

Salazar, but I just want to hide in this room and never come out. It can’t be natural.

There is always a chance that they are Gryffindors enough to dig their own graves. Or they could be reasonable and hold their tongues and not piss him off. Then they could make him think it over and that could only end in… I can’t think of going to the Manor, I can’t return there alone--

I have read exactly one sentence in the book, which I claimed interest in, when I hear his steps on the stairs. Harry comes into the room and flops down on the bed; he stretches himself and looks at me. I struggle not to shift nervously under his gaze.

Then he gives me a small smile.

“I am going to change the wards so they can call me, but can’t simply barge in on us,” he says studying me closely.

I assume that ‘the amazing duo’ didn’t piss him off, but made irritated enough. That is more than I hope for. I am not going to complain. I have kind of fallen out of the habit of whining anyway.

I assume I don’t hide my reaction very well or he just knows me better than I thought, because Potter remarks that he would appreciate if I didn’t look so happy about it. What can I do but shrug? I can’t help myself. The less of Weasley and Granger I see, the happier I am. But he is apparently not too serious about the whole thing which surprises me.

“They’ll get used to it and come around,” Harry shrugs. “And no matter what people say, we three are not joined at the hip.”

Ok, I am guilty of making assumptions. Obviously he isn’t that dependent on his friends and their approval.

Then Harry suddenly sits up and grabs my hand: “Let’s go for a walk!”

I get the message – let’s forget about all the things we don’t want to remember and just be together for now. I agree completely.

And that’s how the happiest time of my life starts. I truly can’t remember when I have been that happy or carefree. Not since I was about six years old. We do like hundreds of things together. We go for walks, we buy food in muggle shops (which is one of the most exciting things I have ever done), we go flying, watch sunsets together, apparate to the beach and go to the movies for the first time in our lives.

When I wonder why Harry hasn’t seen a movie before he tells me about the Dursleys. There has always been a lot of rumour about his home life, but I didn’t really believe it, especially considering that I made up some of the stuff myself.
When he finishes, Harry looks at me apparently curious about my reaction. I tell him the truth, that recently I have realised that probably I am not an expert on normal childhoods and that I miss my mother and I am not sure if my father ever really loved me, but I sometimes miss him as well and at least his so called family didn’t make him to join The Dark Lord and didn’t want him to kill anybody.

I think I start rambling at one point, appalled with all what is coming out of my mouth. It’s not something I should talk of, you don’t talk to anyone about the family, it’s an unwritten rule, but why would I keep following their rules now when--

“Draco!” Harry’s hand is on my shoulder and I wonder for how long and I am grateful that he has stopped me.

He puts his hand on the nape of my neck and I instantly feel better, secure.

“You know what, Draco? If there was a Dark Lord out there who promised to give me my mother back if I only bowed down to him, I would…” his voice trails off. He doesn’t know what exactly he would have done that much is obvious and he doesn’t want to lie, but I know what he means, I know he understands. And I understand now. It’s kind of poetic justice – I used to taunt him about his dead parents and now…

But that’s not the last time we have those moments when we find out things about each other. It’s like little by little we are shedding layers of masks and taking down defences we have both built around ourselves to keep everything that could make us remotely vulnerable.

One day Harry wheels out a very strange thing from the shed. It looks like a very fat muggle bicycle. I know what a bicycle is; he has showed me those already. The muggle parts of Britain are full of those.

“This,” Harry says, “Is a motorcycle.”

And it’s similar to a bicycle, but we won’t have to pedal to make it move and it can not only move, but fly as well. Potter looks like a boy with his first broom – almost disgustingly ecstatic. He wants us to go for a ride. I must admit that there is something almost alluring about ‘the motorcycle’. It’s black, sleek and shiny and big…
There’s just something about it, it’s the same thing as with those muggle trousers – jeans. They both have this special presence.

Besides I am never going to admit that there is anything Potter can ride, that I can’t!

Later, after we return on ground Potter tells me about Sirius Black. I knew of Sirius Black, he was my mother’s cousin, but I knew nothing about him. It’s a sad story and Harry is miserable when he finishes it, but I know that he had to tell me. Sirius Black has become a part of him, without knowing of Sirius I would never know Harry Potter.

Afterwards we take a bath together and then I wrap myself around him and caress and kiss Harry until he forgets about everything except my wet, slick body grinding against his.

We both have a plenty of unpleasant, painful things to tell each other and it will take time. I haven’t told him about Severus yet. I am not ready. That particular scar is still healing. I haven’t decided what to think about it yet. How should I take the fact that someone whom I have always seen as a father figure wants something entirely different from me? Besides I am afraid of Potter’s reaction. He’s not the irrationally jealous type, not the kind who comes home and demands one’s partner to tell what he’s been doing and to whom he’s been talking. But he is the one to glare at anyone who tries to flirt with me when we go out. And he is definitely the ‘act first, think later type’ and ‘hurt my loved ones and die’ type.

And he hates Severus and Severus hates him. I don’t think anything good come out of a confrontation between them.

I have reasons not to tell him and I am not expecting him to tell me his every secret. If he wants to he’s welcome of course, I am not going to fight if he wants to give me such power over himself, but he shouldn’t expect me to return the favour.

Well, but we do talk about Severus after Harry tells me about meeting him at the one of Ministry functions he has to attend. Harry is turning down a lot of invitations lately.

“I deserve a break, you know. If I accepted every invitation, I would be out partying every Wednesday to Sunday.”

But there are some people he can’t refuse, because they are raising money for a very noble cause and such. Naturally he goes alone, because we are keeping low profile while we can. I really don’t mind. I am not ready to meet people.
Not even Potter is naïve enough to think that we will be able to keep our relationship a secret forever, but we consider the time off media as our honey moon and are determined to enjoy it while it lasts.

Not that The-Boy-Who-Lived himself manages to stay out off ‘The Prophet’ and ‘Witch Weekly’. Every other morning we both read what they have cooked up and laugh about it drinking our breakfast tea. I am not even trying to remember the names of all the fiancées he has had so far. They don’t even have the gender right. No one has even suggested that Potter might not be interested in witches. It’s not that here are no wizards like us, but it’s don’t ask, don’t tell, kind of. Complicated.
It’s definitely something one wouldn’t accuse the Chosen one of. At least not until the gratefulness wears off.
Unfortunately, it means that it’s going to be only worse when the truth comes out. So far we have been lucky.

And I don’t

It’s around the middle of July when Potter tells me about the plan to return to Hogwarts. Apparently there are a lot of students who haven’t finished their education because of the war and now when everything is finally over McGonagall (who has been the headmistress McGonagall for some time now) has decided to open the school for those who have fallen out at one time or another for one reason or another.

Ok, then.

“Do you want to go?”

I also want to know how it’s going to work, if he’s going to apparate or floo there every day or stay at the school… damn it! If he’s going just pack his trunk and take off to Hogwarts to play Quidditch and hang out wit Weasel and Granger and visit me only on holidays…

Potter covers my hand with his and I look up at him.

“Wait, wait! Hold your horses! I don’t intend to… Draco, I wanted to ask you if you want to return to Hogwarts with me, if you don’t we don’t have to, I mean I am filthy rich and we can just keep on living and enjoying ourselves, I have more than enough for both of us.”

I am about to stand up, go and get one of those fancy brooms of his and whack the moron on the head with it.

“Potter,” I grind out. “I’ll have you know that I am filthy rich myself and don’t need any of your money, thank you very much!”

“Oh, I thought the Ministry took a chunk of it for reparations,” he looks so cute when he is having his ‘naïve moments’. All confused and innocent. I am almost sorry that sometimes I have to reveal him some harsh truths about how it all works.

“They took more than I wanted to give, that’s true, but not everything and that ‘chunk’ was only off the assets they knew about. Right before the war started father secured most of our assets.” I am a bit upset, so I have to insult his intelligence in a perfectly polite way: “He hid the gold.”

The funny thing is that father hid our money not only from the Ministry, but from the Dark Lord as well. Sometimes I am afraid that some of Lucius’ dealings will come out and I will be the one who will have to deal with the consequences.

Harry obviously has never thought about anything like that. Sometimes I wonder how he can be this naïve and innocent. But apparently he is not upset that I have cheated the Ministry and the ’poor victims of the war’.
Of course, everyone with half brain must realize that most of the money they took from the convicted Death Eaters and their families will not reach the widows and orphans.

Then Harry simply shrugs and continues: “Alright, none of us will be lacking money but are we going back to Hogwarts or not?”

“I am starting to think that when the Dark Lord hit you with that Avada Kedavra he hit your brain and killed it off!” Yes, I am loosing my patience here!

Besides this is kind of embarrassing and even painful, which Harry doesn’t seem to realise.

And he is just staring at me like an idiot.

“Have you forgotten what happened?” It is quite incredulous, so I pull up my sleeve and show my forearm into his face. The Dark Mark has faded a bit, but it’s still there impossible to be mistaken for anything else. “Have you forgotten this? Do you think they will be delighted to see me again? Get real!” I let the Death Eaters into that school, as good as killed the previous Headmaster.

“Draco,” his voice is as gentle and soothing as his fingers caressing my cheek. I take a deep breath and realise that I have tears in my eyes threatening to break loose any moment now. Damn, how did I get so worked up over this? Why do I get so emotional every other day lately? I hate it.

“Draco,” his voice caressing me with the same tenderness as his hand on my face.

“You were cleared, weren’t you? And don’t look at me like that, I know it doesn’t mean anything, probably better than the most, but you did what you had to do to save your family and yourself. Who knows what I had done if I were in your place? Not everything is black and white… but all that is beside the point. I am not going anywhere without you, I am not even sure if I want to return, but I think that sitting our NEWTs is not a bad idea after all, and probably sooner or later we will both want to do something with our lives and we will need them. If you think that we should… well, I think there are some strings I can pull to make sure that we both have the chance. There is no way I am doing it without you. I am not going anywhere where you can’t come with me.”

He’s going to ‘pull strings’. How un-griffindorkish.

I don’t want him pulling any strings for me.

I don’t want him standing between me and the angry mob, but that is bound to happen as soon as the general public finds out about us. Besides, I can’t hide for the rest of my life and I can’t make Harry hide. He probably wants to return to Hogwarts and see his friends again. And Merlin knows, he needs all the education he can get, not all of us can be naturally brilliant after all. It is not as anyone has ever liked me there (except some of the Slytherins perhaps and Severus, but, let’s not go there). So that won’t be much different.

The more I think about it, the clearer the picture is getting. I can’t hide. That would be beneath me. I am a Malfoy, we are survivors, we survive and we are proud of it. My father didn’t hide after the Dark Lord’s first fall, he did everything he could to make the Wizarding world respect the Malfoy name again. Not to like it. No one has ever liked us, but respect and fear – that we have always managed. And I have something father didn’t – Harry Potter by my side.

He is still their Saviour, Defender, The-Boy-Who-Lived. Of course many wizards and witches are going to be upset when they find out who their Darling has chosen. Not only am I a male, but a Malfoy as well. The thing is that the Wizarding world in general doesn’t mind couples like us as long as they keep to themselves. In families like mine heirs are supposed to marry, produce an heir and after that we are allowed to take for a lover who ever we want, discretely, of course.

Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived however is not just someone. He is seen as the public property of the whole Wizarding World and they want to have a say in everything what he does. They want to see him have a fairy tale love with the fairest witch out there and have a bunch with pretty babies. They will be disappointed to find out that there will be no royal family to be proud of.

Many will be very angry.

But there is a chance that they will not be upset enough to forget that he rid them of The Dark Lord mere months ago they will forgive him and maybe they will forgive me too. And if someone won’t – well, Potter is more powerful than anyone I have met, maybe except The Dark Lord himself and he is perfectly capable of protect ing himself and me against everybody.

And even if… even if it’s bad… well, we can always run away to some place were no one knows who we are.

I smile broadly at my lover who has been looking at me expectantly for the last five minutes and can’t help myself, I feel a bit of satisfaction as I see him melting when he sees me smiling.

“Alright, we will go back to school, if you will manage to work it out of course,”

Now he grins like an idiot and I experience the melting myself.

Harry’s POV

Draco Malfoy… I am not sure if I can really describe Draco Malfoy. I am afraid that he is one of those things you need to see with your own eyes… he’s just so… and I am just so smitten.

But it feels so good that I can’t find will to resist that giddy, content feeling, that constant state of almost drunkenness. No matter how ridiculous I look or sound. But it’s not a problem because there isn’t anyone who could see, only two of us.

I know too well that we can’t stay at Godric’s Hollow forever, but it’s so good, none of us wants to jeopardise the paradise we have found together. Draco Malfoy is not my little, dirty secret; he is my big, wonderful, delightful secret. Something so special and sacred that I am feeling too selfish to share it with the whole world.

The only people who know so far are Hermione, Ron, Remus and Tonks; everyone else still believes that I am single. Not even the Weasleys know and I have no idea when and how to tell them. Until now I have been able to hide successfully. I keep going to some of the social functions if I think they are worth my time.
I go alone and that causes a lot of rumour. They just take pictures where I am seen with one witch or other and the next days the news about my soon engagement are all over ‘The Prophet’.
The only good thing is that Draco doesn’t believe any of that shit. I guess for once I can be happy that my lover is a Slytherin and has enough sense to know better. But he teases me about ‘The Harem’ though. I answer that I am going to turn him into a eunuch to guard it. Which we both know is claptrap.

But my birthday is approaching and I have a sneaking suspicion that someone somewhere is already planning a surprise party. Would it be a good idea to drop in with Draco Malfoy in tow?

But at the moment I have to sort out the Hogwarts’ situation.

I leave Draco in the basement where we set up a potions laboratory for him about a weak ago. We went to Malfoy Manor, which was an experience I don’t really want to think about and, even if he’s hiding it, Draco didn’t enjoy it either. But we picked up some of his things like clothes, jewellery, some books and equipment for a potions lab. Now he disappears there for at least two hours every day after covering his head with a scarf. He says he doesn’t care for Snape-ish hair style which is caused by ‘excessive exposure to potions’ fumes’ and I better not laugh about his hair-dress.

So I leave Draco with his nasty concoctions walk outside my wards and apparte to the outskirts of Hogsmeade from where I can walk to the school. Since I owled her yesterday, professor McGonagall, whom I should be calling headmistress McGonagall, is already waiting for me by the gates.

She is looking at me with a kind expression on her face. I know that she has always favoured me as much as the strict woman has allowed herself to favour anyone. I should enjoy her disposition while it lasts because I am not sure that she will be so benevolent after I say my piece.
I have also always noticed her dislike for Draco. Some of it has been deserved of course – I am under no illusions about my lover’s character and his dragon-sized attitude problem.

At least on outside.

I know that he is making an exception for me by letting me in.

I am not sure if I should demand him to change. It would make things easier, but I can’t make any demands about it. He has worked on his mask for too long to simply dispose of it. That’s what the Draco Malfoy I thought I knew is – a mask. If he had to take it off, he would feel naked and vulnerable and I understand that he is not ready to be that around other people. I am privileged, because obviously I have somehow earned his trust which is absolutely unbelievable considering everything that had happened between us. But I guess that the truth is that our relationship doesn’t make sense, but it doesn’t always have to.

When I approach McGonagall I notice something I never noticed before – I can smell a cat on her. It’s very faint, but it’s there. I wonder if I could ‘nose out’ other animagi that way. Probably not. They could be just cat or dog owners and I would be smelling the same.

I almost feel sorry for the professor. I hope this conversation won’t turn ugly, but I am not ready to compromise.

“Headmistress,” I greet her smiling. I am glad to see her.

“Mr. Potter,” she returns my greeting and smile.

I fall into step beside her as we walk up to the castle. She tells me about the school and the new professors they have hired. Nothing has fundamentally changed though; even professor Binns is still ‘haunting’ the history class. It’s all small talk. After briefly discussing the Order members and what they have been up to, the headmistress turns towards me a bit as if warning that the conversation is going to get more personal.

“How have you been, Harry,” she asks appearing slightly worried which kind of annoys me since I haven’t given her any reason to worry. “Of course ‘The Prophet’ is offering us so much interesting information about you,” she continues apparently amused with some of the nonsense she’s read about me.

I roll my eyes: “Yes, they are getting more imaginative with every issue. But honestly I am not about to elope with any witches. And haven’t become a father so far. I am simply enjoying a bit of holiday.”

She is smiling kindly again: “That’s good Mr Potter, I believe you deserve some down time. But I believe you are going to join Mr Weasley, Ms. Granger and other of your former year-mates and continue your studies in September.” Her tone implies that she would be very disappointed if I didn’t.

Ah, we are getting to the point: “I am seriously considering it. In fact I am here to discuss that.”

Her thin eyebrows rise a bit: “Oh, that’s good, but what do you want to discuss, Mr. Potter? You are very welcome back, surely you understand that?”

“Its not about me, it’s about someone else,”

She looks curious now.

“I am talking about Draco Malfoy,” I finish and McGonagall looks as surprised as I have expected.

“I want to know if he’s as welcome back like me and anyone else,”

She is frowning now: “I am not aware of… well, Mr. Malfoy hasn’t expressed any desire to finish his education.”

“Well yeah, of course he has not, at least not to you. My being here is Draco ‘expressing desire’ to finish school, kind of. If you need him to owl you or something, I’ll let him. We just wanted to know if he will be allowed back. Well, I think that since he was found not guilty there shouldn’t be a problem, but… still, with everything that happened…”

“Wait a minute Mr. Potter!” She looks terribly confused now. “Why are you here speaking on Mr. Malfoy’s behalf? How does it concern you?”

Ok, I think it’s time to shed some light on this: “Well… Draco is living with me.”

There it is.

Silence.

“Why would Draco Malfoy be living with you Mr. Potter!”

God, she’s outraged.

It’s so juvenile and I hate myself, but I feel my cheeks growing hot, but I think it’s understandable since I am to share very personal information with one of my sternest professors who happens to be the head of my house: “We are together.”

I don’t think she got me and I will have to spell it out after all: “We’re an item. A couple. Lovers.” Fucking – is next on my list, but I choose to skip it. And I believe I have made it clear enough.

Judging by the blank, shocked look on her face - I think she got it.

“Mr. Potter,” her voice is much quieter and more serious now. “Are you making a joke? It’s not very funny…”

No, apparently she’s still not getting it: “No, no jokes. I am very serious. Me, Harry Potter, and him, Draco Malfoy, are together as a couple. As lovers.”

Now when it apparently has finally hit her, headmistress starts looking upset: “That is the… it’s the most absurd thing I have ever heard! You and Malfoy! That boy…”

I simply shrug. It’s true.

“Mr. Potter… why?”

She is upset, but I am nevertheless getting annoyed with her: “The ‘why’ - it’s kind of personal. And why do people get together at all? What you need to know is that we are together and if I am coming to Hogwarts Draco is coming with me.” No pun intended.

“Harry, I simply can’t imagine how you and Malfoy could have…”

“It is complicated, but we are and it’s not a fling, we are very serious about our relationship.”

“Mr. Potter, I can’t believe that it is not possible for you to find someone more appropriate!”

No, not this…

“Listen, I didn’t come here to defend my relationship or discuss my private life at all. I wanted to sort out the school thing. I need to now if you will have us.” I am harsher than I wanted to be, but when something threatens my relationship, I do get defensive.

McGonagall’s lips are twitching and it’s not the good ‘about to smile’ twitch. It’s more like ‘don’t really want to start yelling’ twitch. She looks disturbed and disappointed, but while I am not happy with her glaring at me, I am not letting her make me feel guilty just because I am dating someone she doesn’t approve of. Or rather no one approves of, if I think about it. But it doesn’t matter. She can take her disproval and…

“I don’t see that I have much choice, Mr. Potter, since I am not going to leave you without education. But I urge you to think about your choices concerning your personal life. I can’t believe that it is impossible for you to find a nice witch…”

Oh, God…

“I have made my choices and I don’t want to talk about them,”

She gives me an exasperated look: “I don’t understand you Harry; you are such a nice young man. A lot of people care of you. Do you expect them to stand by and look at you ruining your life with someone unworthy; I don’t want to see you hurt…”

“Listen, I am not a little boy anymore and I have had enough of doing things for everyone else. I don’t care who wants to see me married to a nice witch or becoming an Auror!” Alright I need to calm down and stop yelling at her. I don’t want to yell at her.
“And I am not here to discuss it. What I wanted was to discuss was mine and Draco’s return to the school are we still welcome?”

Now McGonagall looks resigned: “Of course Mr. Potter, you are welcome. And you are also welcome to come for advice when you need it, even if you think that you don’t need it.”

She looks hurt and disappointed and I recognise an attempt to guilt-trip me. I think she, Hermione and Mrs. Weasley have been exchanging notes. Or maybe it’s a woman thing. But I am not falling for that. I have had enough of bossy woman trying to mother me. I have put up with it for long enough, I have done things people have expected of me more often than I want to admit, but here I am drawing a line.

I want to live my life and I want to live it with Draco.

I say goodbye to the still sullen looking headmistress and leave her office impatient to get back home to my lover. I really hope that he has had enough of potionmaking for today. The idea of feeling jealous of pixie liver and chopped hemlock is kind of disturbing.

***

I find him in the kitchen, making a ham and cheese sandwich, the way I taught him. At first I didn’t believe him, when he told me that he had never made even that much for himself.

Draco is pensive, when I tell him about my conversation with McGonagall and a bit worried, as far as I can tell.

“It’s going to be alright,” I move closer to him.

I put my hand on the nape of his neck massaging it gently; I can tell that it is exactly what he needs after standing by the laboratory table for about three hours. And I think my touch makes him relax a bit, I can feel his muscles loosening up under my hand already.

I have gotten to know Draco Malfoy very well and I know that all that cockiness and attitude only means that deep inside he is more vulnerable and insecure than many other people and sometimes that is exactly the reason why he is trying so hard to put up a brave front and prove the opposite. Draco is not as strong as he might seem and he thinks that there is something wrong with that. I think somewhere deep inside he still wants to be his father, but even if I didn’t know Lucius that well, I am sure that Draco is nothing like him. And that is a very good thing.

And he is not me either.

And he doesn’t have to prove anything as far as I am concerned.

Not everyone must be a hero and recklessly rush into danger and sacrifice himself for the greater good. I have been there, done that and now everyone is making such a big deal out of it. As if it makes me better than other people. But I didn’t have much choice, did I? I was marked and it’s just good luck and fortunate coincidence that I was the right man for the job. Imagine if Voldemort had decided to attack the Longbottoms first…

Who knows what had happened if I actually had a choice. Maybe I… no, I wouldn’t have left the wizarding Britain to fend for itself. But does lack of survival instinct is such a good thing?
Maybe it makes me a fool in the end of it.

Besides Draco is better than me in a lot of things I am not as good at. Like academics. My grades have always been very average in all the subjects except The Defence. I have no talent for potions and I have a feeling that Draco is pretty good at it. Not that I can really tell since I suck at that particular subject.

I keep working on his neck and then move my hand up caressing his scalp a bit. His hair is really getting quite long, but I am not going to complain. Draco leans back into me. I let my other arm wind around him and slide my palm inside his shirt where he had left three top bottoms open and slide it over the warm skin of his collar bone. Draco leans back even more, his pert bottom rubbing against my awakening erection, the touch is seemingly accidental and innocent, but I know better. I know Draco better.

He is very fond of games and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I am just glad that he can’t see my smirk. I am fond, but that’s not a reason to encourage him.

“You wanted something?” I feel him shiver against me as I let my breath ghost over the shell of his ear. I start sliding my hand down his back feeling every bone of his spinal cord and without any pretence let my fingers dip in the crack between his ass cheeks. I tease him a bit, drawing the finger back, up his spine and then down between his cheeks, getting closer and closer to his opening and then finally massaging exactly where I know his more sensitive spot is under the cloth of his light linen trousers.

Draco’s breathe hitches and he whimpers a bit.

“Now, Potter!” He orders then.

“Now what?”

“Now fuck me before I get my wand out and hex it off,” he commands.

“There, there, I think that is biggest bluff I have ever heard, I know you wouldn’t ‘hex it off’, because you like it too much… and I will get your wand out for you,” I keep teasing him, enjoying how flustered he’s becoming.

“Maybe I would like ‘it’ better separated from what’s attached to it,” he sounds so petulant and vicious; I can’t help it and burst out laughing.

“Potter…” he whines desperately and rolls his hips against my hardness and I give up.

“Accio lube!”


Praising my seeker reflexes and convenience of wandless magic I catch the bottle and set it on the kitchen table. Then I turn him around and kiss on the mouth with everything I have in the same time untying the strings of his trousers which fall down freely around his ankles, I love his summer clothes… after that I grab his hips and lift Draco on the tiled kitchen table.

“Potter! It’s cold!” He protests and I kiss him again making forget all the complaints. Draco shakes the trousers on the floor and wraps his long, bare legs around my waist pulling me closer and starting to undo the fly of my jeans deliberately letting his small, agile hands brush against my cock, typical Draco, doesn’t care that he’s driving me crazy here. I bat away his hands and push him back to lie down on the table. I bend his legs in the knees and spread him as wide open as possible. Then I generously coat my fingers with lube and spread it over his entrance.

Draco moans and tries to get closer to my fingers.

“Easy, you’ll fall off the table,” I chid him and I see that he is about to retort, but successfully cut off whatever he wanted to say by pushing my slick finger inside him going for his pleasure spot straight away which earns me a groan and encouraging ‘yesss!’ He is quite vocal for someone who has shared his room with several other boys through his teenage years.

It doesn’t take long to get him ready. Draco is moaning, whimpering and energetically trying to impale himself on my fingers, digging his heels in the table and lifting up his hips. I can’t wait any longer too. I yank my jeans down just enough to get my cock out, lube it and then I am ready as well.

I take hold of Draco’s hips and pull him onto my cock.

“Move, damn you!”

I couldn’t think of disobeying that order now. Very soon we have picket up a rhythm and his legs are around my waist again. I lean over him, yank open his shirt and take his nipple between my fingers. They are rosy, much lighter than mine and I adore them I let my hands roam all over his shoulders, chest, his stomach and sides. I feel that I am close so I take Draco’s cock in my hand. It is as pale as all of him except the pink head, and it feels so silky in my hand. Draco is so beautiful lying there for me, panting with his lips parted.

I have hardly touched him and he’s already coming all over my shirt. I grab his legs and push them to his chest and push into him as hard as I can for a couple of times and then I am coming.

My legs almost give out as I am coming down from it. I look at Draco who is still lying naked, spread out on the table. If I wasn’t so spent, I would take him again, that’s how tempting and adorable he is. I climb on the table and lie on my back next to him. Then I pull Draco on me. His legs fall between my thighs and he rests his chin on my chest. We lie there and look each other in the eye.

“You know,” Draco drawls. “Civilised people don’t have sex on the kitchen tables.”

“Oh,” I smirk. “Then you are lucky to be living with an uncouth Gryffindor like me or you would be missing out a lot, love.”

Draco rolls his eyes and sticks out his tongue.

“And here we see what a well mannered, sweet little thing you are, and how very mature!”

He laughs helplessly, as if he can’t help himself and slaps my naked thigh.

“Ouch!”


***

Finally my birthday comes. I am nineteen now. It was not easy to decide what to do about it, but in the end we decided that Draco won’t be joining me at the party Molly Weasley is insisting on. It’s funny how understanding he actually is. He says that he knows how important my friends and ‘those Weasleys’ are to me and we are spending a lot of time together anyway and he is not going to make a scene just because I am going to have a birthday party without him as long as he is the one who I am coming home to.

I offer Draco to come with me. “Let’s come clean,” I say. “It will have to happen sooner or later and why not now?”

He refuses. He says the longer our relationship stays a secret, the longer we have peace and quiet. “Besides, every slytherin dreams of having a clandestine affair with someone powerful and famous.”

“No white picket fences then?” I laugh.

Draco obviously has no idea what I am talking about: “Why would anyone dream about picket fences? Well, maybe a hedge of flesh-eating hawthorn…”

I can’t hold my laughter and he throws a napkin at me. “That was some kind of stupid muggle reference again, wasn’t it?” Draco pouts. “And stop giggling or I might change my mind about the fantastic birthday blow I wanted to give you before you leave.”

“Oh, don’t bother sweetheart, I am sure that I could find some kind soul who would not say ‘no’ to the birthday boy.”

Draco narrows his eyes then he snorts picks up his tea and returns to reading ‘The Daily Prophet’.

***

The ‘surprise party’ is more than I expected it to be.

I can hardly hide my irritation when I arrive. I hoped it would be a private affair with the Weasleys, my friends and maybe some of the people from Hogwarts I knew a bit better than others.

But there are so many people in the garden by The Burrow, too many for my taste.

“Happy Birthday!!!” They all shout out and it takes some effort not to wince, but they don’t know how much sharper my hearing has become.

Then they all come, pat me on my shoulder, hug and even kiss me on the cheek. I have almost irresistible wish to get away and wash their smells of me. I can usually ignore all the sensations my heightened senses are causing, but when so many people insist on pawing me it’s a bit harder.

I keep reminding myself that Mrs. Weasley loves me and means well… but, sod it; I do feel a pang of resentment for her, because this is the birthday party from hell, at least for me. It’s not like I haven’t had enough of this in the last few months, with all the Ministry functions and such.

There are a lot of wizards and witches whom I kind of know, but wouldn’t call friends. That includes the Hogwarts staff and almost all of the order and their families and some people I don’t know at all.

At least after they had all greeted me I am allowed to have some space. I talk to worried Ron and Hermione and equally worried Remus and Tonks and am terribly grateful that there are so many people around us that they can’t really ask me direct questions about Draco. I smile and tell them that everything’s completely alright which is true and they will have to accept that.

Mrs. Weasley almost smothers me with hugs and kisses and I feel my resentment of her fading already. Guess I am a sucker for family-like kindness.
Bill is carrying the youngest Weasley at the moment on his arm who is still a bit pink and whom I categorically refuse to hold longer than for a minute, because she’s so small that I am afraid to break her. I also meet Neville, Dean, Pravati, Lavender, Luna, Padma, Hannah, Justin who are all eager to return to Hogwarts. Colin is running around and snapping a lot of pictures. There is a rumour going around that the twins have spiked the punch with something. I do hope it’s just some kind of liquor and not one of their new products.

The party is fun enough, but I still can’t help feeling like I am somehow cheating on Draco by being here without him, having fun. Letting all those wizards and witches think that I am single.

I take a swig of butter-bear as I watch people dance and chat.

“Hello, Harry,”

I am starting to recognize that voice. It’s Sandrine Scrimgeour. I am almost not surprised to see her here since we have been running into each other almost every time I decide to come out of hiding and attend one of those social things. Like the presentation of the knew ‘Lightningbolt’, a broom dedicated to me…

And unfortunately someone always manages to take a picture with both of us on it which makes there almost the suspect number one in the list of witches I am supposedly dating. But I am kind of grateful to her since when she was once asked what was ‘the real Harry Potter’ like, she told them that I was very modest and a real gentleman and a lot of things newspapers wrote about me were lies. That’s enough to get someone on my good side.

As much as I know her Sandrine is very nice and sensible and I have decided not to hold the fact that the Minister is her father against the girl. It wouldn’t be fair.

I smile at her and ask her how she’s been.

She returns my smile and says that she is all right and about to start her apprenticeship in St. Mungos.

Oh, well, I think it’s great that she wants to be a healer it’s a good and noble thing to do.

“You know, you are such an inspiration for many of us, Harry. A lot of my friends are thinking what they could do for the wizarding world,”

Here it comes… she talks about me as if I were some kind of wizarding Ghandi or Marthin Luther King. Should I want to inspire someone? Even some of people who had known me personally sometimes look funny at me.

“Good luck, Sandrine,” I simply wish her.

“Thank you, but you know, Harry Potter, you have recently brought me some very bad luck,”

I guess I look really surprised and terrified, because she laughs at me: “Oh, I am just joking. It’s just that I can’t get a date, because everyone things that we are dating and don’t want to risk stealing Harry Potter’s girlfriend.”

I wince: “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Don’t worry; I know that it’s not your fault. I am just curious which one of all those witches you are dating after all.”

“None of them, really, they have gotten it totally wrong,”

She laughs: “No surprise there, I guess. It must be annoying.”

“Yes it is,”

“Listen, Harry, if everyone thinks that we are dating, maybe we could get together for a cup of tee, I know a very nice coffee shop, muggle, so no one would bother us…”

She looks at me expectantly.

“You want to have tea with me?” Why would she…

“Yes! You can have coffee if you want, of course,” she smiles brightly. She smiles like someone who hasn’t seen war and has had a perfectly happy childhood. She’s like a sunbeam, someone everyone instantly wants to be friends with. I wouldn’t mind being her friend, but I am already neglecting the ones I have…

“Well, I wouldn’t mind, but I have been very busy lately and…” Ok, what else… “Ah, and if someone saw us together they would think that we are really dating…”

“Oh, Harry!” She laughs. “I wouldn’t mind if they thought that we were dating!”

Eh…?

“You have no idea what I am talking about, do you? Oh, that’s so charming,” she looks directly into my eyes and the intensity of her gaze makes me uncomfortable. “I am asking you on a date Harry Potter.”

Oh… oh, no…

I think I am kind of blushing now: “You see…” I am not sure what to say. “I can’t… you are very nice and pretty, but I can’t.”

Sandrine obviously tries to hide her disappointment, but I still sense some of it.

“If I weren’t… well, if the situation was different I would accept…”

“It’s all right, Harry,” she lights up another of her smiles which doesn’t quite hide her disappointment.

“I am sorry, but I am seeing someone, it’s just none of those witches they are pairing me up with.”

“Well, then… but if it doesn’t work out you can always owl me.”

“Mm, sure…”

Then she suddenly wraps her arms around me and gives me a hug that feels very awkward and then vanishes in the crowd.

“Hey, mate, what’s up,” Ron turns up with his own butterbear in hand.

“Oh, nothing much, only Sandrine Scrigeour just asked me on a date,”

I almost jump as Ron whistles: “Wow, that’s great! Congrats, she’s very hot!”

I look at him in disbelief.

“Well, she is!”

“Ron, I am already with someone,” is he really dumb or just pretending?

“And you could do much, much better,”

I press my lips together very tightly to keep myself from saying aloud some very nasty things. I mentally count till ten and take a deep breath: “You and Hermione complained that you don’t see me anymore. Why would I want to see you if all I hear is that my relationship is wrong and I must…” I look around, there are too many people who could overhear and so yelling at Ron is a very bad idea.

Ron’s shoulders slump and he looks a bit guilty: “Sorry, Harry, I just can’t get used to it. Not only being with ‘you know who’, but…”

“Yes I know,” and I am trying to be understanding. “But I am loosing my patience. I don’t want to fight you about it on every step.”

“And only some people know this far, Harry, think about what will happen when everyone finds out, you haven’t told Mum yet,”

“Not everyone is afraid of your Mum Ron,” I smirk at him. But that doesn’t mean I am not afraid to disappoint her.

“Oh, shut up!”

“But seriously, Ron, today after most of them go home I am going to tell your family. They will find out very soon anyway, because we are returning to the school on September. I don’t think I can put it off for longer, no matter how much I wish I could.”

“You are? That’s good… and with…”

“Yes, with,”

It’s past the midnight when all the guests, who are not Weasleys, finally leave. Only Remus and Tonks stay longer, because I ask them to, since I hope for some support. We sit in the kitchen and Molly is pouring everyone tea. It has been too long since we have been all together like this. Molly, Arthur, the twins, Charlie, Bill, Fleur… Percy and Ginny forever missing which still hurts.

I decide not to beat around the bush: “I asked some of you to stay longer, because I wanted to tell you something. You are my family, the only one I have ever had, that’s why I wanted to let you know something first,”

I take a very deep breath: “You are not going to like it, but well, here it comes.” I pause not for effect, but for courage. “I am seeing someone. Actually, it’s more than just seeing, we are living together…”

“Oh, my…”

“And I have no idea!”

“But Harry, that’s great!”

“We are happy for you!”

“Harry, oh, Harry, my dear boy. Why would we mind?” Molly comes to me, her eyes shiny and arms open. I step into her hug. “We don’t mind, you need someone in your life, and Ginny, she would like to see you happy.”

We stay like this for a moment. I, in Molly’s arms and everyone else in silence. For Ginny, for the life she will never have.

“Ok, Lover boy, spill, who is she?” Fred, or is it George, who shouts and the other one gives a cat call and Molly releases me, brushing a tear off her cheek.

Here comes the hard part: “Well, that’s the thing. That it’s not a ‘she’.”

Silence.

“Didn’t exactly see that coming,” Charlie grumbles.

“Talk about it,” Ron

More silence.

“Well, Harry as long as you are happy,” Arthur Weasley puts in, but doesn’t look that happy himself.

I want to drop the other bomb, because stretching this out is giving me a headache: “And it’s Draco Malfoy.”

Deadly silence.

Someone bursts out laughing: “A good one, Harry!”

“Very funny!”

“The liking blokes part is a joke too, right? You are having us on?”

“I am sorry, but I am completely serious. I am living with a man and it’s Draco Malfoy and I love him,” there. I look at Hermione pleadingly.

“Harry is being serious, he is living with Malfoy,” she confirms dutifully.

“Oh, Merlin,” Charlie exclaims. “How that’s possible?”

I shrug. What do they want to hear?

“Harry,” Molly sits down and looks stricken. “That boy? The one who let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts? Lucius Malfoy’s son. He has the mark, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, the same,”

“Why, Harry?”

“I love him,” they are my family so I decide to be as honest as I can, they deserve at least that.

“But, Harry, that’s…”

“I didn’t really expect you to approve, but nothing you say will change anything, I just wanted you to know and wanted you to hear from me. And no, I am not under imperius or a love potion, you can ask Hermione if you don’t believe me.”

“Harry, but he was a Death Eater one of those who killed Ginny and Percy, how can you…” Molly has different kind of tears in her eyes now and I feel really bad.

I don’t want to make excuses for Draco, for some reason I don’t want to, but there are things I feel I have to point out.

“He was very young, he still is. They threatened his family which was the only thing he had and they threatened his life. Draco did what he had to do to survive and I am glad that he did. And he didn’t kill anyone which is more than I can say about myself.”

“He is a coward, that’s for sure,” Ron grumbles.

“Because he is not a killer? So it would be better if he was a killer after all?”

“He could have changed sides…”

“And left his mother to fend for herself? Besides I imagine how welcome Draco would have been on our side and how safe He would have been very protected by people who hate him just because his name, that’s for sure.”

“Harry…”

“No, I don’t want to hear more of this. Do you think that Draco is some kind of spawn of evil? Born to be bad? You know what? Even Voldemort wasn’t born evil. We have a lot in common, you know. He was also an orphan who didn’t know anything about himself only that he was different and that people hated him for that. And then he found out that he was a wizard and that there was a place in this world were he would be accepted, that he was special. But what happened? He came to the wizarding world probably full of hope and expectations, but, guess what – Tom was sorted in the Slytherin.”

“Besides Tom was more talented and smarter than most. You know what it’s like to be the smart kid, or in fact to stand out in any way,” I look at Hermione who lowers her eyes, I know she knows. “No one particularly likes the smart kids and to be a smart Slytherin is even worse, because people dislike you even more and are suspicious of you as well. So Tom probably didn’t find any friends and didn’t find acceptance he was looking for. And every summer he had to return to the same hell he came from, no matter that he begged them not to send him there. Who knows what kind of abuse he went through there; muggle orphanages were not nice places fifty years ago.”

“I guess I had it better, my relatives were more neglectful than abusive and I was a boy who lived, the one everyone wanted to befriend. And I managed to talk the sorting hat out of putting me in the Slytherin. Oh, don’t look so disbelieving. The hat wanted me in the Slytherin pretty much. Imagine how that could have turned out. I don’t think we would become good friends with Ron in that case.”

“I got lucky; I had a lot of things I loved, people I cared about and people who cared about me. I guess love I felt was stronger than my anger at this damned bigoted, self-righteous little world. You can’t imagine how angry I was when I realised what was really happening. For ten years I was left alone with a family who hated me, oh, I know about the damned protection, but was that a reason to leave me completely alone and oblivious for all that time?
It took me years to find out more about my family and the damned prophesy and a lot of other things. No one bothered to tell me who the Sirius Black was. At first I was too grateful to ask any questions, but when I started thinking and realised what a perfect set up it all was.”

“I was raised by prejudiced relatives who were abusive enough to make me hate prejudice as such, but didn’t break me. I was saved by the great Albus Dumbledore and was eternally grateful to him. For a long time I ignored the fact that he was keeping me in the dark. I and Draco understand each other perfectly. We were both groomed to become the tools just for different purposes. The difference is that he was not cut for the role his father wanted for him. I am afraid to think what had happened if I weren’t. And, no, I am not making excuses for Tom Riddle, I just know where he’s coming from.”

“And if you think that I fought Voldemort for some greater good or to save the ‘great’, ‘precious’ Wizarding World, then you got it all wrong. There is too much bigotry, hypocrisy, corruption and cowardice here. Oh, no, I did it for myself, for my parents, for Sirius, for Cedric and for all of you who are in this room right now. Draco did what he did for his family, for his mother. I understand him damn well. What had you done if Voldemort had been holding Ginny hostage and had demanded something from you?”

Charlie jumps up from his seat: “Don’t you dare to involve her--"

“I dare!” I just want them to understand. “Because I know what I was ready to do to save her. If only it hadn’t been too late.”

No one says anything for a while when I finish. I am not sure if I am regretting my rant or are relieved. But I am so sick of being their ‘Saviour’ and I am still angry and I want at least my family to know some of the truth. I am no noble hero; I am selfish when people whom I love are at stake.

“I didn’t know you were so bitter, Harry,” Remus finally says.

“Bitter? Hm, if I were thinking about it every day, I guess I would become bitter, but the past is the past. I just don’t understand you people, you are living in this black and white little world of yours were Albus Dumbledore is holier than thou and all the
Slytherins are evil. Sometimes I wonder how old you are. I was like that once, but then I was twelve years old. I grew up.”

I look at all of them. They look very quiet and thoughtful. That’s good I guess. People should think before they talk.

“Ok, it’s late, I should be going,” I turn around, facing the door, but can’t leave like that. I turn back.
“You know I love you, right?” With that I turn around and leave.


TBC

A/N: Sorry for taking so long, but I haven’t been able to write a lot recently and even with editing I am struggling.

Please give me some feedback if you are feeling up to it.