Harry Potter and The Dragon’s Treasure (BP6)
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
43
Views:
24,558
Reviews:
198
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
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Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
43
Views:
24,558
Reviews:
198
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Crying in the Dark
Chapter Number/Total: 37/43
Chapter Title: Crying in the Dark
Words: 3014 Words
When Harry and Draco stood up from his old bed with Valen, Draco led them into the Master Suite. Harry was still iffy about it – a little. He did like the nursery and how close their children would be to them, and the fairies on the ceiling would be extremely useful, he just wasn't so sure about sleeping in Draco's parents' room.
The room itself was very beautiful and ornate. It was done in blues and silvers, like Draco's old room. And once he'd had a good look around, and really thought about the positioning of the children's rooms, and how incredibly nice the suite was, he supposed it wouldn't be so bad. And Draco didn't seem particularly bothered, so within the next few days, they redecorated the room and moved all of their things into it. They stood pretty much ready for their first night after the move, but Harry could only wonder how Valen was going to react to sleeping without his parents.
Draco had used a spell to refresh the paint in the nursery and moved most of Valen's toys into his rooms. He had also set up a beautiful set of rockers in the boy's bedroom so that Harry could nurse their child - soon to be children - in the room and then lay them down after. The second rocker was so Draco could sit with them as well. The blond was doing that now, rocking contentedly as he watched Harry feed Valen.
Harry sighed quietly looking down at the baby. "I don't want him to cry," he said with just the slightest bit of a pout.
Draco smiled. "We can set up a spell to hear him if you like," the blond said.
"Well, yeah, I guess," Harry replied, petting Valen's hair. "Do you think it'll be weird for us to sleep in there?" he asked.
"Not just being away from Valen we are talking about now, right?" Draco asked.
Harry was silent for a moment, but then realised that his silence was giving him away. "I guess," he said with another quiet sigh. He hadn't wanted to bring it up.
Valen was already asleep in Harry's arms and Draco realised that he was delaying putting him into the cot. The blond stood and walked forward, gently taking the boy from his husband and lying him down. He cast a spell that would allow them to hear Valen wherever they were in the Manor. Then he reached his hand out to Harry. "Let's go to bed," he said softly.
Harry bit his lip as he stared at Valen. He slowly reached his hand out and took Draco's, getting to his feet.
Draco quietly led them out of the nursery and across the hall to their new bedroom.
It was rather strange to be sleeping in a new room period. It wasn't all because it had belonged to Lucius. Harry stood inside the doorway, staring around for a moment.
Draco actually had pleasant memories in this room. He remembered lying on the bed, watching his mother get ready for parties and the smile she would give him when he told her she was beautiful. The room was redecorated now, but the vaulted ceiling was still there and he looked up, smiling.
Harry glanced over at Draco. "Well, you ready for bed?" he asked, walking over to the bed in the huge bedroom.
"Always ready for you," Draco smirked, and stretched, kicking off his shoes.
Harry chuckled, removing his own clothes with magic, but not yet laying down..
Draco sat down on the edge of their bed, smiling at the fact that Harry had made them move the old bed from their other room. He looked up at his husband. "Yes?" he asked.
Harry gave a small shrug. "Nothing," he said.
Draco rolled his eyes and sighed. "Sure," he drawled, lying back still dressed and waiting to see what was up with his husband.
Harry raised his eyebrows at Draco. "You going to bed with your clothes on?" he said.
"I thought you would enjoy removing them," the blond said with a smile.
Harry smiled wryly. "Or you would," he said, flicking his fingers to strip his husband.
Draco gasped, never tired of the feel of his lover's magic as it swept over him. He now lay naked and grinning at him.
Harry smirked and lowered himself over Draco's body, kissing him, but not so much that he was telling him he wanted sex right at that very moment.
Draco relaxed, trying to slow himself down and wait for Harry to tell him what was going on inside that thick head. He reached up and stroked the man's hair, caressing his scalp with long fingers.
"Want the truth?" Harry asked quietly, stroking the side of Draco's face.
"Yes," Draco said, arching an eyebrow but continuing his caresses.
"I guess it's just because this was your dad's room," Harry admitted. "It's kind of weird, I suppose."
"It was also my mother's room, and my grandparents' rooms," Draco said softly.
"It doesn't bother you at all?" Harry asked. "I guess – I guess that's what I don't want. I don't want it to bother you."
Draco frowned, considering. "I only have good memories of this room," he said. "I used to sit in here with Mother while she got dressed and talk with her."
Harry smiled. "Oh," he said simply, not wanting to voice the other things that had been passing through his mind.
"He didn't do it here," Draco said after a minute.
Harry's face fell and he couldn't find any words. He hadn't expected Draco to just come out and say it.
"You have actually spent a lot of time in the rooms he did," Draco added, fingers still caressing his husband's hair.
"What?" Harry asked, looking seriously at Draco.
"You are thinking about the times he touched me sexually, are you not?" Draco asked.
Harry felt a prickle of anger inside himself, and he didn't give Draco a verbal answer.
"We didn't do that in here," Draco assured him.
"In the other ones then," Harry said lowly. He made a strange face, his eyes hard.
"The study and my suite," Draco said softly, watching his lover's face and trying to figure out the best approach to talk about it. Was it better to explain it all or leave it? Let Harry ask what he wanted or volunteer information? It was a touchy subject for his husband and Draco had really never talked about it with anyone else.
Harry let out a breath then that sounded relieved even to himself. He looked away from Draco's face. "It's disgusting," he said, still speaking in a low voice. "Not you, but him. I thought so before, but now, looking at Valen - I - there aren't even words to describe how - I can't even imagine the thought ever crossing my mind to ever do anything like that to him. I don't understand how anyone could ever do that to their child."
"It was done to him," Draco said softly. "He thought it was the way it was supposed to be done."
"There are no excuses for it," Harry said. "No excuses for that ever."
"I wasn't excusing it," Draco said with a huff. "I was explaining it." He frowned. "You don't think I would ...."
Harry's eyes widened and he took in a sharp breath. "No," he said firmly. "Draco, no, I would never think that."
"Good," Draco said firmly. "But I can't pretend I hated my father while growing up."
Harry sighed. "I'm not saying you have to hate him," he said. "It's just ... I hate him. Hated him."
Draco closed his eyes and tried to breathe. Harry wasn't the only one upset by this conversation. He tried to sort through his own feelings. How did he feel about his father now? It was a tangle inside and he didn't know how to pull it apart. The things he had done with his father had not upset him at the time. In fact, far from it. The shared intimacy had seemed to make things better between them. Now, he understood it was wrong and he wouldn't do that to his own children. Was it wrong to have enjoyed it? To have benefited in several ways from it? He didn't know the answers and suspected that even asking would just upset Harry.
Harry sighed. "We don't have to talk about it," he said. "I – I didn't even mean to bring it up."
"You didn't bring it up," Draco pointed out. "You were worrying about it without saying, so I did."
Harry sighed yet again. "I guess," he said. He didn't know where they were supposed to go with this or if they were supposed to go anywhere with it at all.
"If you have questions," Draco said softly, "I would rather you asked them."
Harry frowned. Did he have questions? Most of the time, he didn't want to think about this. Most of the time, he didn't think about it. He stared at Draco under himself, reaching fingers into his hair. "Is there anything you ... want ... to tell me, love?" he asked tentatively, because he knew he wouldn't be able to ask questions himself. He wouldn't even know where to start, what to ask, what not to.
Draco closed his eyes. He never brought up this topic with Harry, and usually, when it came up, Harry would shy away from it. "You want to know what happened? Or how I felt?" he whispered.
Harry's frown grew, his eyebrows furrowing. His heart sped up with the thought of hearing what Draco might tell him, but he tried - really tried - to push that away. "I - I want to hear what you want to tell me," he said quietly. "If that's everything ...." He nodded and continued stroking his husband's hair.
Harry's magic crackled with his emotions and Draco frowned too, unsure of what he could tell him. He took several deep breaths, looking up at the "H" in the canopy as if it was some kind of talisman he could ground with. "I remember being small and wishing my father were as affectionate as my mother. Mother would hold me and pet me and I always loved that." He smiled and glanced at Harry. "Like you are with my hair."
Harry smiled back at him, even though he could feel the heavier conversation coming up. He nodded for Draco to continue.
Draco sighed. "He was always so busy. My mother told me how important he was and how he was making sure of our future. Most of the time, it felt like he only paid attention to me when I did something exceptionally well or made a mistake he felt needed ... correction."
Harry swallowed, but didn't interrupt. He really hoped he could take this. He would force himself to take it if it was what Draco needed.
Draco felt his stomach flip as he got closer to what Harry was really asking about. "When I did well, I was given presents and praised. When I didn't ... well, he punished me. I thought I would do anything for his approval."
Harry still stroked Draco's hair, even when he felt the nervousness inside himself rise to try and overwhelm him. The soft strands under his skin seemed to be helping to keep him calm.
Draco could feel his husband's distress, but his touch did help. "When I turned eleven, he took me to my own suite, and told me how proud he was that I was going to be a man soon. He hugged me. I know that doesn't sound like much but it was unusual."
Harry nodded, drawing in a small, quiet breath. He would try not to get angry. He knew Draco would be able to feel it if he did.
"After that, he started being more affectionate, touching me more often. Having me sit in his lap," Draco said. He shivered then, not sure if he should go on at this point, feeling shame now that he didn't feel then.
Harry clenched his teeth for a few seconds, breathing through his nose. He felt the flash of anger despite trying to quell it, but leant down and kissed Draco's forehead. "It's all right, love," he whispered. "You can keep going."
"I ... I was sitting in his lap in his study and he was ... touching me, not there, but in ways that felt good," Draco whispered. "I became aroused."
Harry nearly felt like crying. His hand shook now as he passed it through Draco's hair.
Draco couldn't look at Harry now, face flushed with shame. "He told me it was normal, to feel like that. He said it was his job as my father to teach me about such things, that his father had taught him – and that we didn't talk about it with others ...."
Lucius Malfoy was a sick, twisted, screwed up man. He sickened Harry even more with every new detail he heard about the man, but maybe Draco needed this more than he let on. They were married, they weren't supposed to have secrets, right? Even secrets that were partly known but not discussed. Harry lowered his head to Draco's shoulder, pressing his lips to his neck in a soft kiss, trying to comfort.
Draco shivered, his mind still focused on the memory. "He showed me how ... how to touch myself. He touched me and had me touch him. Later, of course, I told you, there was more."
Harry had heard this before and it angered him just as much as it had then. Still, he kept himself in check, listening.
"I know you don't understand this part, but it didn't feel ... bad. I was finally getting attention from him and he was so nice to me when we were like that. It was all I knew, Harry. I believed what my parents told me."
"You were eleven," Harry whispered shakily, cupping Draco's face. "You were just a kid. Every kid believes what their parents tell them, Draco. It's not your fault."
Draco sighed again. "I know what you saw of him and how you feel about him," he whispered. "But the way he was, well it wasn't always like that. It felt good when he touched me. And he was less angry then. It wasn't until the Dark Lord came back that things became ... frightening."
"You can tell me," Harry nodded in encouragement. It was strange .... Already this – this truth was better than ... imagining the worst possible.
"I don't think my father had thought it was possible, for the Dark Lord to return, and now he was forced back into service. He became angry and seemed even more likely to take it out on those around him," Draco said. "Voldemort ordered him to get that Prophecy. I know that. Can you imagine what He would have done if my father had refused?"
"Yes," Harry answered. He knew very well what could happen to someone who refused Voldemort.
"I think Father hated you not only because of what you stood for but because he believed you were responsible for bringing the monster back," Draco tried to explain, feeling odd to be justifying his father's actions but wanting Harry to see what it was like for his family.
Harry frowned at that, finding it completely out there to suspect him of bringing Voldemort back.
"And I blamed you for some of my father's anger, since it always seemed to get worse for me when my father was angry at you," Draco admitted.
Harry wondered if it was strange to feel guilty for something he wouldn't have, and couldn't have had control over. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, staring at Draco's pale neck.
Draco reached to lay a hand on the back of Harry's head, fingers stroking his lover's hair. "That last year before he went to Azkaban, it was terrifying."
"Fifth year," Harry whispered. His mind automatically flashed to Draco's words while he'd been under Amortentia, another thing he despised thinking about, yet he still listened.
"Yes," Draco agreed. "Father at his worst, Umbridge in charge of Hogwarts and you running around pissing everyone off." Draco huffed, almost a laugh. "Father was convinced that the Dark Lord would win and that if we were to survive, we had to please him. Which included teaching me more Dark Magic and how to be a Death Eater."
"What did he teach you?" Harry asked softly. Of course he didn't want to know, but ... whether he liked it or not, this was part of his husband, that part of him from before the end of sixth year, the part of Draco that Harry knew nothing about.
Draco frowned. "I was privately tutored, you know that," he said. "Did you ever think of who my father would hire to teach that to his only son?"
Harry shook his head confusedly. He had no idea.
"My father rarely even let me speak to anyone who wasn't a pureblood and agreed with my parents’ ideals until I went to Hogwarts," Draco pointed out.
"Then you had no one," Harry said, having known this from bits and pieces of things that Draco had told him before. "No wonder you were the way you were in school."
"I didn't even know Snape wasn't in agreement with the monster until after Dumbledore's death," Draco explained. "In fifth year Aunt Bellatrix became my tutor."
"God," Harry whispered, pulling a face. He didn't know how anyone in their right minds could possibly want their child to be taught by that mad woman, but he supposed Lucius had no right mind.
"Exactly," Draco whispered. "If she wasn’t mad before she went in, Azkaban certainly took whatever was left of her sanity. I think it did my father’s as well,” he added then sighed again. “Well, back to about fifth year. I couldn't take it. All of it. The first time I lost it, Pansy talked me off the Astronomy Tower."
It was so different to hear this in calm, in Draco's actual voice, without so much hurt. Harry found it strange that – while he still didn't much care for Pansy Parkinson – he was grateful for that interference in Draco's life.
"Theo stopped me from drinking a poison," Draco continued. "They both took turns watching me and talking me through some of the worst of it. I think Pansy even threatened Crabbe and Goyle with dire consequences if I managed to off myself, because they got pretty twitchy as well."
Harry had slipped off a little to Draco's side and hugged him tightly around the middle. "I had no idea then," he said, feeling guilty again, because he had despised Draco. "You hide yourself too well."
"Slytherin," Draco reminded him, smiling slightly. "I had no reason at all to suspect you would even want to know. It wasn't until I thought I had nothing left to lose that I kissed you."
"Hadn't you heard about my 'saving people thing'?" Harry asked. He raised his head. "I would have tried to save you," he said, bringing a hand to his husband's face. He suddenly found tears in his eyes and didn't even know how they'd got there. "I don't know where I would be if you wouldn't have kissed me," he whispered, voice choked. "If you wouldn't have been strong enough to survive all that."
Draco shivered, moved by Harry's reaction. He had never thought anyone would really understand what it had been like but Harry, the person who mattered most, his Harry had listened and, at the very least, accepted. "You are much stronger than you think you are," he whispered, "always were."
Harry kissed Draco gently. "Maybe I would have been fine," he breathed against his mouth, "but I don't want a part in any world where you're not mine."
"Good," Draco answered, kissing his husband, hand pressing against the back of his head to deepen the kiss as Harry added a bit of tongue to the kiss. The sound of Valen crying startled Draco and he broke the kiss, laughing.
Harry automatically looked to the side when he heard the crying, but then remembered where they were and where Valen was and he slipped off of Draco, crawling backwards on the bed and sitting perched on his knees.
Draco listened to the sound. "He might be hungry and maybe a little scared of the new place," he assured his husband.
Harry frowned. "Do we let him cry?" he asked.
Draco shook his head. "No, I'll go," he said, sitting up.
Harry let out a small sigh of relief, smiling and nodding.
Draco grinned and pulled on his dressing gown. He gave his husband a quick kiss and went to the nursery across the hall.
Valen was standing and holding the side of his cot when Draco walked in. The little boy squealed happily and held his hands out, "Dadada!"
"Yes, Daddy Draco," the man agreed, lifting the child and holding him. "And this is Valen's room now."
Valen burbled at him and Draco could almost understand the words. It was like hearing someone speaking a language one was only starting to learn.
Draco hummed a lullaby to his son, walking back and forth in the room until the child settled down, and then he laid him back into the cot. "I would never let you cry yourself to sleep," he whispered to the sleeping infant.
Harry smiled softly, the spell allowing him to listen to Draco with the baby. It was one of the most perfect things he could imagine. He had been about to get up and join Draco, but he chose to sit and listen to them, crossing his legs under himself and absently fingering the pendent around his neck.
Draco leaned in and kissed Valen softly. "Good night, son," he whispered, and made his way back to his own room.
Harry smiled at Draco as the blond entered, holding out his hand to him.
Draco slid his robe off and took his husband's hand. "He's asleep now," he told him.
"I heard," Harry replied, pulling Draco against himself again as he lay down with him. "He'll be okay. As long as he knows we'll always go to him and that we're not far."
Draco blushed, having forgot the spell. "Yes, no crying in the dark," he agreed, remembering both their childhoods as he said it.
Harry nodded, completely understanding the meaning of the words. "I agree," he said.
Chapter Title: Crying in the Dark
Words: 3014 Words
When Harry and Draco stood up from his old bed with Valen, Draco led them into the Master Suite. Harry was still iffy about it – a little. He did like the nursery and how close their children would be to them, and the fairies on the ceiling would be extremely useful, he just wasn't so sure about sleeping in Draco's parents' room.
The room itself was very beautiful and ornate. It was done in blues and silvers, like Draco's old room. And once he'd had a good look around, and really thought about the positioning of the children's rooms, and how incredibly nice the suite was, he supposed it wouldn't be so bad. And Draco didn't seem particularly bothered, so within the next few days, they redecorated the room and moved all of their things into it. They stood pretty much ready for their first night after the move, but Harry could only wonder how Valen was going to react to sleeping without his parents.
Draco had used a spell to refresh the paint in the nursery and moved most of Valen's toys into his rooms. He had also set up a beautiful set of rockers in the boy's bedroom so that Harry could nurse their child - soon to be children - in the room and then lay them down after. The second rocker was so Draco could sit with them as well. The blond was doing that now, rocking contentedly as he watched Harry feed Valen.
Harry sighed quietly looking down at the baby. "I don't want him to cry," he said with just the slightest bit of a pout.
Draco smiled. "We can set up a spell to hear him if you like," the blond said.
"Well, yeah, I guess," Harry replied, petting Valen's hair. "Do you think it'll be weird for us to sleep in there?" he asked.
"Not just being away from Valen we are talking about now, right?" Draco asked.
Harry was silent for a moment, but then realised that his silence was giving him away. "I guess," he said with another quiet sigh. He hadn't wanted to bring it up.
Valen was already asleep in Harry's arms and Draco realised that he was delaying putting him into the cot. The blond stood and walked forward, gently taking the boy from his husband and lying him down. He cast a spell that would allow them to hear Valen wherever they were in the Manor. Then he reached his hand out to Harry. "Let's go to bed," he said softly.
Harry bit his lip as he stared at Valen. He slowly reached his hand out and took Draco's, getting to his feet.
Draco quietly led them out of the nursery and across the hall to their new bedroom.
It was rather strange to be sleeping in a new room period. It wasn't all because it had belonged to Lucius. Harry stood inside the doorway, staring around for a moment.
Draco actually had pleasant memories in this room. He remembered lying on the bed, watching his mother get ready for parties and the smile she would give him when he told her she was beautiful. The room was redecorated now, but the vaulted ceiling was still there and he looked up, smiling.
Harry glanced over at Draco. "Well, you ready for bed?" he asked, walking over to the bed in the huge bedroom.
"Always ready for you," Draco smirked, and stretched, kicking off his shoes.
Harry chuckled, removing his own clothes with magic, but not yet laying down..
Draco sat down on the edge of their bed, smiling at the fact that Harry had made them move the old bed from their other room. He looked up at his husband. "Yes?" he asked.
Harry gave a small shrug. "Nothing," he said.
Draco rolled his eyes and sighed. "Sure," he drawled, lying back still dressed and waiting to see what was up with his husband.
Harry raised his eyebrows at Draco. "You going to bed with your clothes on?" he said.
"I thought you would enjoy removing them," the blond said with a smile.
Harry smiled wryly. "Or you would," he said, flicking his fingers to strip his husband.
Draco gasped, never tired of the feel of his lover's magic as it swept over him. He now lay naked and grinning at him.
Harry smirked and lowered himself over Draco's body, kissing him, but not so much that he was telling him he wanted sex right at that very moment.
Draco relaxed, trying to slow himself down and wait for Harry to tell him what was going on inside that thick head. He reached up and stroked the man's hair, caressing his scalp with long fingers.
"Want the truth?" Harry asked quietly, stroking the side of Draco's face.
"Yes," Draco said, arching an eyebrow but continuing his caresses.
"I guess it's just because this was your dad's room," Harry admitted. "It's kind of weird, I suppose."
"It was also my mother's room, and my grandparents' rooms," Draco said softly.
"It doesn't bother you at all?" Harry asked. "I guess – I guess that's what I don't want. I don't want it to bother you."
Draco frowned, considering. "I only have good memories of this room," he said. "I used to sit in here with Mother while she got dressed and talk with her."
Harry smiled. "Oh," he said simply, not wanting to voice the other things that had been passing through his mind.
"He didn't do it here," Draco said after a minute.
Harry's face fell and he couldn't find any words. He hadn't expected Draco to just come out and say it.
"You have actually spent a lot of time in the rooms he did," Draco added, fingers still caressing his husband's hair.
"What?" Harry asked, looking seriously at Draco.
"You are thinking about the times he touched me sexually, are you not?" Draco asked.
Harry felt a prickle of anger inside himself, and he didn't give Draco a verbal answer.
"We didn't do that in here," Draco assured him.
"In the other ones then," Harry said lowly. He made a strange face, his eyes hard.
"The study and my suite," Draco said softly, watching his lover's face and trying to figure out the best approach to talk about it. Was it better to explain it all or leave it? Let Harry ask what he wanted or volunteer information? It was a touchy subject for his husband and Draco had really never talked about it with anyone else.
Harry let out a breath then that sounded relieved even to himself. He looked away from Draco's face. "It's disgusting," he said, still speaking in a low voice. "Not you, but him. I thought so before, but now, looking at Valen - I - there aren't even words to describe how - I can't even imagine the thought ever crossing my mind to ever do anything like that to him. I don't understand how anyone could ever do that to their child."
"It was done to him," Draco said softly. "He thought it was the way it was supposed to be done."
"There are no excuses for it," Harry said. "No excuses for that ever."
"I wasn't excusing it," Draco said with a huff. "I was explaining it." He frowned. "You don't think I would ...."
Harry's eyes widened and he took in a sharp breath. "No," he said firmly. "Draco, no, I would never think that."
"Good," Draco said firmly. "But I can't pretend I hated my father while growing up."
Harry sighed. "I'm not saying you have to hate him," he said. "It's just ... I hate him. Hated him."
Draco closed his eyes and tried to breathe. Harry wasn't the only one upset by this conversation. He tried to sort through his own feelings. How did he feel about his father now? It was a tangle inside and he didn't know how to pull it apart. The things he had done with his father had not upset him at the time. In fact, far from it. The shared intimacy had seemed to make things better between them. Now, he understood it was wrong and he wouldn't do that to his own children. Was it wrong to have enjoyed it? To have benefited in several ways from it? He didn't know the answers and suspected that even asking would just upset Harry.
Harry sighed. "We don't have to talk about it," he said. "I – I didn't even mean to bring it up."
"You didn't bring it up," Draco pointed out. "You were worrying about it without saying, so I did."
Harry sighed yet again. "I guess," he said. He didn't know where they were supposed to go with this or if they were supposed to go anywhere with it at all.
"If you have questions," Draco said softly, "I would rather you asked them."
Harry frowned. Did he have questions? Most of the time, he didn't want to think about this. Most of the time, he didn't think about it. He stared at Draco under himself, reaching fingers into his hair. "Is there anything you ... want ... to tell me, love?" he asked tentatively, because he knew he wouldn't be able to ask questions himself. He wouldn't even know where to start, what to ask, what not to.
Draco closed his eyes. He never brought up this topic with Harry, and usually, when it came up, Harry would shy away from it. "You want to know what happened? Or how I felt?" he whispered.
Harry's frown grew, his eyebrows furrowing. His heart sped up with the thought of hearing what Draco might tell him, but he tried - really tried - to push that away. "I - I want to hear what you want to tell me," he said quietly. "If that's everything ...." He nodded and continued stroking his husband's hair.
Harry's magic crackled with his emotions and Draco frowned too, unsure of what he could tell him. He took several deep breaths, looking up at the "H" in the canopy as if it was some kind of talisman he could ground with. "I remember being small and wishing my father were as affectionate as my mother. Mother would hold me and pet me and I always loved that." He smiled and glanced at Harry. "Like you are with my hair."
Harry smiled back at him, even though he could feel the heavier conversation coming up. He nodded for Draco to continue.
Draco sighed. "He was always so busy. My mother told me how important he was and how he was making sure of our future. Most of the time, it felt like he only paid attention to me when I did something exceptionally well or made a mistake he felt needed ... correction."
Harry swallowed, but didn't interrupt. He really hoped he could take this. He would force himself to take it if it was what Draco needed.
Draco felt his stomach flip as he got closer to what Harry was really asking about. "When I did well, I was given presents and praised. When I didn't ... well, he punished me. I thought I would do anything for his approval."
Harry still stroked Draco's hair, even when he felt the nervousness inside himself rise to try and overwhelm him. The soft strands under his skin seemed to be helping to keep him calm.
Draco could feel his husband's distress, but his touch did help. "When I turned eleven, he took me to my own suite, and told me how proud he was that I was going to be a man soon. He hugged me. I know that doesn't sound like much but it was unusual."
Harry nodded, drawing in a small, quiet breath. He would try not to get angry. He knew Draco would be able to feel it if he did.
"After that, he started being more affectionate, touching me more often. Having me sit in his lap," Draco said. He shivered then, not sure if he should go on at this point, feeling shame now that he didn't feel then.
Harry clenched his teeth for a few seconds, breathing through his nose. He felt the flash of anger despite trying to quell it, but leant down and kissed Draco's forehead. "It's all right, love," he whispered. "You can keep going."
"I ... I was sitting in his lap in his study and he was ... touching me, not there, but in ways that felt good," Draco whispered. "I became aroused."
Harry nearly felt like crying. His hand shook now as he passed it through Draco's hair.
Draco couldn't look at Harry now, face flushed with shame. "He told me it was normal, to feel like that. He said it was his job as my father to teach me about such things, that his father had taught him – and that we didn't talk about it with others ...."
Lucius Malfoy was a sick, twisted, screwed up man. He sickened Harry even more with every new detail he heard about the man, but maybe Draco needed this more than he let on. They were married, they weren't supposed to have secrets, right? Even secrets that were partly known but not discussed. Harry lowered his head to Draco's shoulder, pressing his lips to his neck in a soft kiss, trying to comfort.
Draco shivered, his mind still focused on the memory. "He showed me how ... how to touch myself. He touched me and had me touch him. Later, of course, I told you, there was more."
Harry had heard this before and it angered him just as much as it had then. Still, he kept himself in check, listening.
"I know you don't understand this part, but it didn't feel ... bad. I was finally getting attention from him and he was so nice to me when we were like that. It was all I knew, Harry. I believed what my parents told me."
"You were eleven," Harry whispered shakily, cupping Draco's face. "You were just a kid. Every kid believes what their parents tell them, Draco. It's not your fault."
Draco sighed again. "I know what you saw of him and how you feel about him," he whispered. "But the way he was, well it wasn't always like that. It felt good when he touched me. And he was less angry then. It wasn't until the Dark Lord came back that things became ... frightening."
"You can tell me," Harry nodded in encouragement. It was strange .... Already this – this truth was better than ... imagining the worst possible.
"I don't think my father had thought it was possible, for the Dark Lord to return, and now he was forced back into service. He became angry and seemed even more likely to take it out on those around him," Draco said. "Voldemort ordered him to get that Prophecy. I know that. Can you imagine what He would have done if my father had refused?"
"Yes," Harry answered. He knew very well what could happen to someone who refused Voldemort.
"I think Father hated you not only because of what you stood for but because he believed you were responsible for bringing the monster back," Draco tried to explain, feeling odd to be justifying his father's actions but wanting Harry to see what it was like for his family.
Harry frowned at that, finding it completely out there to suspect him of bringing Voldemort back.
"And I blamed you for some of my father's anger, since it always seemed to get worse for me when my father was angry at you," Draco admitted.
Harry wondered if it was strange to feel guilty for something he wouldn't have, and couldn't have had control over. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, staring at Draco's pale neck.
Draco reached to lay a hand on the back of Harry's head, fingers stroking his lover's hair. "That last year before he went to Azkaban, it was terrifying."
"Fifth year," Harry whispered. His mind automatically flashed to Draco's words while he'd been under Amortentia, another thing he despised thinking about, yet he still listened.
"Yes," Draco agreed. "Father at his worst, Umbridge in charge of Hogwarts and you running around pissing everyone off." Draco huffed, almost a laugh. "Father was convinced that the Dark Lord would win and that if we were to survive, we had to please him. Which included teaching me more Dark Magic and how to be a Death Eater."
"What did he teach you?" Harry asked softly. Of course he didn't want to know, but ... whether he liked it or not, this was part of his husband, that part of him from before the end of sixth year, the part of Draco that Harry knew nothing about.
Draco frowned. "I was privately tutored, you know that," he said. "Did you ever think of who my father would hire to teach that to his only son?"
Harry shook his head confusedly. He had no idea.
"My father rarely even let me speak to anyone who wasn't a pureblood and agreed with my parents’ ideals until I went to Hogwarts," Draco pointed out.
"Then you had no one," Harry said, having known this from bits and pieces of things that Draco had told him before. "No wonder you were the way you were in school."
"I didn't even know Snape wasn't in agreement with the monster until after Dumbledore's death," Draco explained. "In fifth year Aunt Bellatrix became my tutor."
"God," Harry whispered, pulling a face. He didn't know how anyone in their right minds could possibly want their child to be taught by that mad woman, but he supposed Lucius had no right mind.
"Exactly," Draco whispered. "If she wasn’t mad before she went in, Azkaban certainly took whatever was left of her sanity. I think it did my father’s as well,” he added then sighed again. “Well, back to about fifth year. I couldn't take it. All of it. The first time I lost it, Pansy talked me off the Astronomy Tower."
It was so different to hear this in calm, in Draco's actual voice, without so much hurt. Harry found it strange that – while he still didn't much care for Pansy Parkinson – he was grateful for that interference in Draco's life.
"Theo stopped me from drinking a poison," Draco continued. "They both took turns watching me and talking me through some of the worst of it. I think Pansy even threatened Crabbe and Goyle with dire consequences if I managed to off myself, because they got pretty twitchy as well."
Harry had slipped off a little to Draco's side and hugged him tightly around the middle. "I had no idea then," he said, feeling guilty again, because he had despised Draco. "You hide yourself too well."
"Slytherin," Draco reminded him, smiling slightly. "I had no reason at all to suspect you would even want to know. It wasn't until I thought I had nothing left to lose that I kissed you."
"Hadn't you heard about my 'saving people thing'?" Harry asked. He raised his head. "I would have tried to save you," he said, bringing a hand to his husband's face. He suddenly found tears in his eyes and didn't even know how they'd got there. "I don't know where I would be if you wouldn't have kissed me," he whispered, voice choked. "If you wouldn't have been strong enough to survive all that."
Draco shivered, moved by Harry's reaction. He had never thought anyone would really understand what it had been like but Harry, the person who mattered most, his Harry had listened and, at the very least, accepted. "You are much stronger than you think you are," he whispered, "always were."
Harry kissed Draco gently. "Maybe I would have been fine," he breathed against his mouth, "but I don't want a part in any world where you're not mine."
"Good," Draco answered, kissing his husband, hand pressing against the back of his head to deepen the kiss as Harry added a bit of tongue to the kiss. The sound of Valen crying startled Draco and he broke the kiss, laughing.
Harry automatically looked to the side when he heard the crying, but then remembered where they were and where Valen was and he slipped off of Draco, crawling backwards on the bed and sitting perched on his knees.
Draco listened to the sound. "He might be hungry and maybe a little scared of the new place," he assured his husband.
Harry frowned. "Do we let him cry?" he asked.
Draco shook his head. "No, I'll go," he said, sitting up.
Harry let out a small sigh of relief, smiling and nodding.
Draco grinned and pulled on his dressing gown. He gave his husband a quick kiss and went to the nursery across the hall.
Valen was standing and holding the side of his cot when Draco walked in. The little boy squealed happily and held his hands out, "Dadada!"
"Yes, Daddy Draco," the man agreed, lifting the child and holding him. "And this is Valen's room now."
Valen burbled at him and Draco could almost understand the words. It was like hearing someone speaking a language one was only starting to learn.
Draco hummed a lullaby to his son, walking back and forth in the room until the child settled down, and then he laid him back into the cot. "I would never let you cry yourself to sleep," he whispered to the sleeping infant.
Harry smiled softly, the spell allowing him to listen to Draco with the baby. It was one of the most perfect things he could imagine. He had been about to get up and join Draco, but he chose to sit and listen to them, crossing his legs under himself and absently fingering the pendent around his neck.
Draco leaned in and kissed Valen softly. "Good night, son," he whispered, and made his way back to his own room.
Harry smiled at Draco as the blond entered, holding out his hand to him.
Draco slid his robe off and took his husband's hand. "He's asleep now," he told him.
"I heard," Harry replied, pulling Draco against himself again as he lay down with him. "He'll be okay. As long as he knows we'll always go to him and that we're not far."
Draco blushed, having forgot the spell. "Yes, no crying in the dark," he agreed, remembering both their childhoods as he said it.
Harry nodded, completely understanding the meaning of the words. "I agree," he said.