Unconditionally

Author: TheSiner
Title: Setting Conditions
Genre: Drama, Romance.
Pairing: Harry/Draco (main)
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, character death mentioned, sex, dubious consent, some fluff. Not beta-edited, won’t make sense if you don’t read the first story.
Setting after Voldemort’ demise. Kind of HBP compliant, may contain spoilers for HBP. But almost ignores DH.


3.

Draco’s POV

We both need robes for Hogwarts. Harry has obviously outgrown his, and I am not going to wear my old ones. Of course not.

We have avoided the Wizarding world so far and while we had some very nice shopping sprees in the muggle world, however, there are some materials muggles just
don’t have. Like acromantula silk, dragonhide and many others.
But Potter wouldn’t understand. He wears jeans, muggle sportswear and other very plain garments.

Of course I have been working on that. I have already gone through his wardrobe and
incendio-ed some of the rags I found there. Then I replaced them with fine silk and linen shirts, woollen trousers that actually fit and cashmere sweaters and suede jackets… and I honestly can’t tell that I mind what’s called ‘designer jeans’. Not after getting two pairs for myself. Harry has hardly noticed, meaning, he doesn’t mind.

I have gotten some of my old things from the Manor and they still fit me, but there is nothing like a new set of embroidered robes or leather trousers.

So shopping it will be.

Under different circumstances, I would be thrilled to go to the Diagon Alley, but since this is going to be our first public appearance, I am a bit nervous.

Harry’s arm slides around my waist and rests on my hipbone. I suspect, he loves touching me there. Then he apparates us.

He pulls me closer to his side. I let him hold me like that as we walk until we come too close to the Leaky Cauldron. Then I stop and take his hand off me giving it the last reassuring squeeze. I am not really rejecting him, I think Harry knows that. But blatantly hanging on him in the public would be a bit much at this stage. I know he understands, but there still is a little pout.

“Can’t keep your hands off me, Potter,” I tease him.

“Not really,”

Good.

I know I look fine. I am wearing a pair of quite tight blue trousers, a very light, white
shirt with some modest lace trimming around the collar and the hem and a very thin light blue cape over everything. It’s perfect a mild summer day. And I can’t miss how much Potter appreciates what he sees. The git won’t stop pawing me and can’t keep his hand from sneaking under my un-tucked shirt. At one point I push him away, because my nipples and other parts of me start getting a bit hard and the material my clothes are made of is really thin, the shirt is practically see-through.

There we finally are, standing by the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. And going in.

Harry is instantly recognised. He greets the bartender – Tom – who is looking at me askew as well as some other people sitting at the table. Maybe I should have worn something less… I don’t know, probably less expensive and eye-catching.

I think Harry had noticed people staring at both of us. He grabs my hand around the wrist and pulls me towards the brick wall where he swiftly taps the correct bricks with his wand.

Oh, I have missed this so much… I haven’t been here since I ran from Hogwarts.

We pass the cauldron shop – I have enough cauldrons to last for the rest of my life already – and I pull Potter straight to the Slug & Jiggers Apothecary. So far I got by with the ingredients I got from the Manor, but there are some things I am dying to get my hands on.

I guess I am a bit overenthusiastic:

“Hey, slow down, you will tear my arm off,” Harry complains.

“Don’t worry with all the ingredients I want to buy, I’ll grow it back, maybe won’t be the same colour, but…”

Potter snickers.

I have made him laugh.

I push the door open and my nose is instantly assaulted by myriad of different smells – sweet and spicy, putrid and sour, fresh and musky. I look at Potter who is wrinkling his nose like mad and warily glancing at something slimy and obviously still alive, moving inside one of the glass jars. But for a potions enthusiast this is heaven.

Where others see smelly, slimy substances, I see potentialities.

I briskly walk to the counter. It’s higher than most customers would find convenient, made of dark, polished wood and there is a small step by it for those who are not as tall as Mister Jiggers. I have always tried to figure out, where he’s coming from. Could be some giant blood, but I don’t think so.

“Good morning, Mister Jiggers,”

He has obviously recognised not only me, but Potter as well and now his little, black, beady eyes are darting from Harry to me and back.
I don’t pay his awful manners any mind and get a list out of my pocket and hand it to him.

The wizard starts nervously buzzing around to get everything I need. It’s fascinating to watch how his long limbs are moving with such speed when tall and gangly tend to be clumsy.

He packs everything in a large, grey paper bag, which I thrust into Potter’s hands.

“Hey,” he makes the token protest.

“Your potions supplies are in there as well, dear,” what does it matter if they make about tenth of the weight he will be carrying?

I pay and we walk out, leaving the still stunned apothecary behind

We have to pass the Quality Quidditch Supplies… the new “Lightning-bolt” is on the display, sleek and shiny and next to it a photo - Harry holding the broomstick. It’s a superb broom, but do they really think that Harry needs another reminder of his curse scar, of his parents’ death and the Dark Lord? ‘The Lightning-bolt’, really…
How dumb can some wizards be?

How ironic, that I am the one, who in fact rides the ‘Lightning-bolt’, which they gave him, because Mr. Sentimentality would never part with his “Firebolt”, besides hating his ‘honour-broom’ on principle.

We look at the display, then at each other. Harry makes a face. Yes, my thoughts exactly. I answer with a wry smirk.

As we walk towards the Flourish & Blotts we both are getting weird and surprised looks which we are trying to ignore, but no one has attacked me yet. I wonder if it’s because it’s the middle of day or because I have Harry by my side.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and it startles me, before I realise that it’s just Harry who is guiding me into the bookstore. The shop is overflowing with children who are picking up their books and I suddenly feel very old and in consequence silly, doing the same thing. I browse through the shelves picking up what Harry and I are going to need next year. I think I am turning into a wife, buying things for him--

“Malfoy!” A shrill voice almost tearing my eardrums. “There is a Malfoy in the shop!”

I turn around to glare at chubby middle-aged witch who is looking at me as if I was a Dementor.

“I know my own name, thank you very much,” I try giving her the coldest glare I have.

“You,” she pokes at me with her porky finger. “You should rot in Azkaban, you! Do you know what your father did to my cousin!”

I can imagine, knowing my father.

“You will have to discuss that with the Wizagemont madam,” my words are pleasant, but I am glaring at her as nastily as I can. Then she is reaching for her wand…

And then I am suddenly standing behind the very broad back of my lover.

“Madam, put away your wand before someone gets hurt,” he says in a voice full of icy warning and danger. Oh… this is… he’s so…

“But… but… that’s Malfoy!” I mentally roll my eyes; of course, being a ‘Malfoy’ is a crime these days.

“Yes, that is pretty obviously Draco Malfoy, but that is not a reason to interrupt our shopping, so please leave us alone,”

I am so proud of him.

“But… you are Harry Potter!” The insufferable woman isn’t getting a clue.

Other people are gathering around us.

“Yes, he is Draco Malfoy and I am Harry Potter and we both are shopping here. Do you have a problem with that?” He sounds truly angry now and the woman shrinks back, then pockets her wand, turns around and hurries away.

“The show is over,” Potter growls and everyone pretends that they are returning to what they were doing. But I am well aware that some of other customers notice when Harry suddenly turns around and brushes his knuckles against my cheek. He looks at me with such tenderness in those green eyes that I… I don’t understand how I existed until know without him looking at me like this. I want to hug him. to hide in hi arms so much that it hurts to know that I can’t, not here with all those eyes around us, hungry for any piece of information on Harry Potter.

“Come,” he guides me towards the till.

We pay for the books and Potter takes them. We leave the shop ignoring more curious gazes.

We are barely out of the Flourish & Blotts when we are surrounded by a herd of children of various ages.

“Harry Potter!”

“Mr. Potter, can I get an autograph?!”.

“Harry, look here!”

They shout through each other. Harry looks at them dumbfounded, he obviously still is not used to his fame. I take the bags for him and nudge him with elbow. Potter smiles awkwardly and starts scribbling his signature on their parchments trying not to show how much he hates it. But I can’t really imagine Potter telling a bunch of kids to bugger off. There’s a funny scene to imagine…

Potter is very quick and very soon he grabs back the shopping bags form me and we dart into the Madam Malkin’s. We are lucky – there are no other customers. Next moment Madam herself and a younger assistant come out and greet us. What I like about Madam Malkin is that she is very professional and wouldn’t bat an eyelash even if The Dark Lord himself came in and wanted to buy a pink robe in daisy pattern.

“Good day, Madame, I am pleased to see that your business is doing well,” I incline my head politely while Potter just grumbles something.

“Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter, what can we do for you gentleman,”

A couple of minutes later we are standing side to side the magical measuring-tape darting around us. No stools this time, we are both big boys. Our eyes meet, and I know that we are recalling the same memory.

It’s amazing, how we have always been important to each other since that first meeting. Even if not in a good way, it’s still a comforting way.

Our robes will be delivered to us tomorrow by an owl.

I feel accomplished somehow, and relieved we have done this. Now if only we could get some ice cream…

“One more stop,” Harry announces.

All right, but: “What stop?”

“Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes,”

“No,”

“Yes.”

“Noo…”

“They are not that bad,” he finds this funny.

“They are Weasleys!” Moreover, the worst of them. Ron at least is predictable but those two…

“And you are a Malfoy,” Harry says, looking at me seriously.

I shut up, because he has a point. But I don’t have to like it. Why can’t he let me wallow in my hypocrisy?

Even from the outside it’s obvious that it’s a joke shop and practically screaming ‘
Beware! Weasleys!’ at you. I haven’t seen anything that gaudy as long as I have lived. Except on Weasleys’ heads, maybe.

The façade of the shop is awful. There’s purple (bordering on pink), bright green, yellow, orange and the sign is sparkling. Almost unbelievable.

However, I decide to keep those thoughts to myself.

Potter pushes the door open (I am not sure if I want to touch anything in there) and as we walk inside we are greeted by a loud… farting sound… I can’t believe this…

The shop is as garish inside as it is from outside and quite busy. Full of young wizards and witches poking at everything they can reach and some not so happy looking parents who had been obviously dragged in by their little, charming emotional blackmailers. I follow Potter trying not to touch anything.

“Harry!!!”

I turn my heads and see the two identical redheads who are both wearing neon green smocks with ‘Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes’ logo sparkling on the front. Since I see it on a young witch by the till, and on a wizard who is restocking Skiving Snackboxes I assume that it is some kind of uniform and not what they wear every day. Thank Merlin.

Meanwhile Harry is being bear-hugged by the ginger-heads. they are about the same height as him, but Harry’s shoulders are a bit broader.

“Come in mate,” one of them pats his back and the other has noticed me. “Let’s go to the office, I think that we can leave the shop to our most capable assistants for a while. Hey, Malfoy!”

“Hello,” I am trying not to show that I am relieved, because they don’t try to hex me at first sight.

The infernal twins lead the way and we follow.

Turns out the office is less offensive to my eyes, there is even a pretty nice leather sofa and two dark red club chairs. Harry puts our bags down on the one side of the sofa and sits down on the other leaving place for me between the bags and himself which I take without hesitation. Then his hand finds my knee and I instantly feel better, it’s reassuring, because honestly, I don’t think I will ever be comfortable in the same room with any Weasleys. I wouldn’t be surprised if they hated me.

“Tea? Cofee?” One of the twins offers.

“Find another fool, Fred,” Harry returns. Which is probably wise, knowing their reputation.

“Harrrry… do you think that we would try to prank our silent partner?”

Oh, that’s something I didn’t know, but knowing Harry he didn’t think the fact was of any importance.

“Yes, you would,”

“Malfoy?” The other red-head winks at me and I am pretty surprised how easy going they are.

“Tea or coffee Malfoy?” The one who is supposedly George repeats.

I give him ‘Do you take me for that other fool?’ look.

“Aw, and we were told that all the blondes were dumb,”

“Especially the pretty ones,”

“And you are so very blond!”

“And very pretty,”

“But then, Harry wouldn’t date a dumb blonde,”

I try to will the blush away from my face, but I am not sure that I am succeeding.

“Hey, cut that off!” Harry kind of berates them, but only kind of, because he obviously finds the fact that they have managed to embarrass me amusing. Traitor.

“Oh, Har, you come here, showing off your brand new boy-toy and you expect us to leave you alone?”

“No, no way!”

Ok, I think my moth is hanging open. They have no shame! I would hex them if I weren’t left completely speechless.

“Don’t take offence, Draco,” Harry has leaned closer and whispers in my ear. “They just are like that; they don’t mean it in a bad way.”

“Yeah, Malfoy, no offence,”

“We are just that way,”

“The mad,”

“The wicked,”

“Geniuses!”

For the first time in life, I feel sorry for Molly Weasley. No wonder Harry thinks so highly of the woman. She has to be something to handle those two.

Then they turn to look at each other, their expressions growing serious, as if agreeing silently on what to say next.

“We were a bit put out when Harry here announced that he and you have hooked up,”

“But then Harry gave us quite a speech,”

“And we realised that it was the greatest prank he had ever pulled!”

“Oh, yeah, Mum is still recovering,”

“She even forget to grill us about that farting door chime,”

“Yeah, mate, usually she would be all over that one!”

Why do I have feeling that there is something they are trying to tell with all that banter?

“So, she’s still angry with me?” Harry asks.

“Well, not exactly…”

“More like worried, we think,”

“Not as much about Malfoy, maybe a bit,”

“I think she’s feeling guilty,”

“Why?” Harry sounds truly surprised and worried and I put my hand on my knee on the top of his.

“She feels like she has let you down,”

“It’s about what you said and Dumbledore,”

“She’s angry with him and… well about everyone now,”

“Your speech was a bit of an eye-opener, mate.”

Harry sighs: “I didn’t mean it like that. I am not blaming your Mum, not at all. I just wanted you to see things from another perspective…”

“You made us all think,”

“Even, Ronnikins,” one of them says and the other snickers.

“And, that’s something!”

“About the means and the ends,”

Harry falls back in the couch and closes his eyes. I shift closer to him and squeeze the hand I have been holding. He told me about the conversation he had with people he thinks of as his family. Some of those things he said made me think.

“Tell her that she shouldn’t feel… bad about anything, what happened, happened you know. We must just go on and try to be happy,” Harry finally says opening his eyes.

“Ah, happy!”

“Do you have any gorgeous veela cousins Malfoy?”

“Oh, they would make us very happy,”

“You look like you might have.”

Their half-serious momentum of sanity is obviously over.

“Thank you for the compliment, but I assure you that it’s really just a rumour, my family is not related to veelas,” I decide that they have had enough fun at my expense. “And if I had any veela cousins I would owl them first thing after coming home to warn about you.”

It turns out that those two Weasleys are not that bad when you get used to them and kind of fun. When we leave Harry is smiling broadly and he says that they like me and I think that he is kind of proud of that.

Oh. Whatever rocks your boat, Potter!


***

Next day we pack our trunks. Naturally, I keep an eye on what clothes go into Potter’s. I am finally starting to believe that we are returning to Hogwarts after all that time.
We have even received our Hogwarts letters with booklist and everything.

I think I am as nervous and exited as every first year.

It’s confusing, because part of me wants to go and another part doesn’t want to leave. I have gotten so used to the house with awfully Gryffindor name. I have been very happy here. We have been very happy.

Next day early in the morning we cook breakfast together, which I know, we will not be able to do for some time. I have learned to cook, I am better than Harry is with the new recipes, the ones he had never cooked before, because I have more patience, I know, how to follow instructions and I don’t have his tendency to improvise. No wonder his potions are abysmal. But when he is preparing something he’s done before, all the sloppiness and improvising somehow works out very well.

We eat, do the dishes, shrink our trunks and walk through the door and Harry locks it. Then he takes my hand. We face each other. And then we kiss. We just stand outside on the path and enjoy each other.

His arms are around my waist, mine are on his shoulders and there we are, standing and melting into each other. He’s bending me back, leaning a little bit over me and languidly exploring my moth with his tongue.

I let him. I always let him do to me whatever he wants. I love to surrender to him. He’s my new master in a way.

Fuck you father!

I break free of him and start laughing. If only Lucius saw me now! He raised me this way; he raised me to do as I am told, to submit to those who have power. But I am not bowing to my father’s morals or to his Lord. Fuck you Lucius!

“Draco, are you Ok?” Harry asks worried.

There is a difference between Harry and all the others who have had power over me. While Harry is my master, I am his too.

“Yes, I am very much Ok. I’m just very happy,”

He runs fingers through my hair gently: “I think you should stay out of potion fumes for a couple of days.”

And we laugh again.

But very soon I don’t feel like laughing at all as we step on an overcrowded platform 9 and ¾ where we are spotted instantly and in about thirty secounds everyone is staring at me and Potter.
It’s not funny at all.
The fact that he is The Hero is a big enough deal. And I myself am notorious for being the one of the most recognizable Death Eaters, who got away. People conveniently overlook the fact that I am not the one Malfoy who slaughtered and tortured. Guilty by omission.

The thing is that we are stare-worthy on our own, but together we are a sensation. No one has approached us or said anything only because I think they are a bit wary and confused. Why wouldn’t they? I am evil and Potter is holier than thou… well they probably are not sure what to make of Potter walking by my side.

And everyone must be even more confused after the article ‘The Prophet’ published after our shopping in the Diagon Alley. Honestly, we thought we were preparing everyone for the day we would come clean. We never expect that kind of turn: ‘Death Eater Draco Malfoy Seen with a Harry Potter Impostor’. Apparently the possibility that it could really be their Hero with me is too outrageous and unbelievable. So probably some of them are wondering if it is the same ‘impostor’ again.

But we simply ignore everyone. Potter puts his hand on my shoulder and guides me towards the train waving at some stunned wizards and witches whom he obviously knows. There he helps me in which is kind of unnecessary, but I understand if he can’t keep his hands off me. But I think we will have to discuss the over-protectiveness thing. I am not weak and I am not a girl and while I am enjoying all the attention I am not sure that it doesn’t look weird…

Or not. I love the attention very much… I guess I won’t worry about something so insignificant at the moment.

We are early and manage to find an empty compartment. Harry pops down quite ungracefully in the seat by the window and manages to pull me onto his lap which I don’t think is a good idea and so I hit him on the shoulder which does me no good. He just laughs winds his arms around my waist and starts sloppily kissing my neck which is hard, because my long hair are getting in the way. He is more tickling me and I can’t help laughing and can’t make myself to stop him, just because it’s not the right place or time. I don’t care!

Hermione’s POV

When we get on the train, we go looking for Harry. I am quite anxious about seeing him. We have kept our distance. There have been few owls, but overall we have respected his wishes and now I can’t wait to see hw he has been doing.
It is obvious that he had arrived, because people outside are whispering among themselves and I have overheard Harry’s name mentioned very clearly.

Most of the students haven’t closed the blinds so we see that Harry is certainly not in any compartment we pass.

We come to stop when we run into Dean and Neville who are standing by a compartment with blinds down and door opened in a gap and looking inside with strange expressions on their faces.

“Hiya, mates,” Ron greets them and their heads snap up, they are both visibly startled.

“Whoo, Ron, it’s you,” Dean lets out a relieved breath. For some reason he’s whispering.

“What is happening here?” I demand. God, but I sound like McGonagall and I am at least four times younger than she… well I didn’t mean it to come out like that. But when I have spent last eight years with Harry and Ron who would never have done any homework if I weren’t pestering them. I must admit that I have developed a bad bossy-ing habit.

I look at Neville questioningly. He looks a bit pale.

“Well, look for yourself,” Dean makes a face.

I push them aside and look through the gap. What I see is Harry with Malfoy sitting in his lap and they are… Oh, they are so making out.

“That’s not a boggart, right? If this wasn’t the train, I would have thought it was, but who would have brought a boggart on the train,” Dean looks terribly uncomfortable.

“No, it’s not a boggart. It’s a nightmare,” Ron scoffs. Then he pushes the door open: “Oi, Harry, cut it out!”

They both look at us looking a bit embarrassed and guilty. Malfoy slides off Harry’s lap. He is dishevelled and with his pale complexion his cheeks bloom like roses and lips look a bit bruised.

“Hello, Harry, Malfoy,” I greet them giving both a bit of a stern look for their display. Honestly! Is this the place and the time?

“Hello, everyone!” Harry greets us. Malfoy just nods his face shifting in that aloof, superior expression. Apparently, he has pulled his act together.

“Harry, don’t you have something to tell us?” Dean crosses arms over his chest looking from Harry to Draco.

Harry kind of smiles and then announces that he and Draco are together. As a couple.

I watch both our friends and their reaction. Neville’s eyes have gotten very round and large and he looks terrified and very unsure.

Dean whistles: “That’s somewhat unexpected.” But he is taking it rather well. But that’s Dean Thomas for you, he’s admirably calm and self-possessed.

Then Malfoy rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to pretend that you like me or me being with Potter,” he announces. “And I will not be pretending that I like you. Deal?”

“Good idea, Ferret Face!” Ron agrees.

“You are welcome Weasel,” Draco smirks.

“No, it’s not a good idea,” Harry interrupts before I can. “I don’t want to spend my time at Hogwarts listening to you both bickering as if you were still eleven.”

I am proud of him. That’s it, don’t you dare to give in to Malfoy, Harry.

“Don’t worry, Harry, I will be perfectly civil to everyone” Malfoy turns towards Harry and gives him so sickeningly sweet smile that I am tempted to make a gagging sound. And what is even more disturbing it’s apparently working, I can see Harry’s posture loosening and his expression softening… Oh, for… I can’t believe that Harry is falling for it! The git is batting eyelashes like a bloody girl! Like some Lavender Brown wannabe!

I have always despised people who are using their looks and charms in such way. And to see Draco Malfoy of all people twisting my best friend round his little finger! I want to strangle him like never before!

Then Harry’s smile grows wider. He takes Draco’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and smiling at the blonde as sweetly says: “But, darling, I know that you can be very much insulting under pretence of perfect civility.”

Oh… I guess Harry is not so blindly smitten after all. But I think that any kind of close relationship with Malfoy could be a disaster for someone who doesn’t know how to hold their own. But Harry has always been adventurous. Maybe both of them together make sense after all. Well, he certainly can keep up with Malfoy.

Now Malfoy is pouting, apparently a bit sore that his attempt to manipulate Harry has failed, but mellows as soon as Harry’s hand disappears somewhere behind his back. God, but they are going to be all over each other like this all the time, aren’t they? I am ready to bet they are.
It’s so strange. I mean, I am open-minded. I think I am very open-minded in fact, but I have never really known anyone who is gay. I know of them, but not any real gay people. Ok, there was Andy, one of mum’s friends. I have met him only a couple of times, but I have never seen him cuddling with another man. And now Harry and Malfoy. It’s very… I don’t even know.

Have to stop staring at them.

“So,” Harry finally announces. “The fact is that Draco and I, we are together. However, I would not like to loose any friends because of that. I don’t want to choose between my lover and friends.”

Everyone’s silent for a moment.

Then Dean nods simply and curtly, Neville shrugs, Ron looks irritated, but resigned. I think we have established that there will be no split-up.

I am relieved. We have lost so much already, so many friends, we can’t afford loosing more.

The train ride is long and many people we know stop by. And their reactions vary, but no one is too pleased. Some are surprise and look at Harry with disbelieve. Others are suspicious of Draco and the hostility is undeniable no matter how hard they are trying to hide it. I am almost ready to admit that Draco Malfoy’s most serious crime is his terrible personality and stupidity and Harry is right – he has been a victim of circumstances under which, of course, he could have still made better choices, but not everyone can be a hero.

But I think for the most of the Wizarding World Malfoy’s biggest crime is being Lucius’ son. And very soon they will probably want to see him suffer for ensnaring Harry Potter. I can imagine most feeling it awfully unfair that he gets away with being on the wrong side of the war and then gets the ‘prince charming’ of this fairy tale. They are going to hate him.

I don’t need any veela senses to smell the trouble coming our way.

The only one who is truly happy for Harry and Draco is Luna. She even hugs them both; (I love to see Malfoys expression when she does it). None of those who obviously are unhappy with Harry’s choice of lover dare to say or do anything. Probably waiting for a good moment to stab them in the back. I regret that I have to admit it, but I know how some of them are. Harry is one of their celebrities and while they appear to be in such awe of him, they would love to hate him.
Cowards. They should know better, because there is always me and there is Ron watching Harry’s back.

I think everyone is relieved when the train finally approaches Hogsmeade and we can busy ourselves with putting on the school robes. The atmosphere has been just awkward. But truly? Who can expect us to get all chummy and comfortable around Malfoy straight away? It’s going to take time.

Four of us share a carriage and I wonder if there is anyone above fifth year who doesn’t see the thestrals…

We walk towards the school. Harry and Malfoy stay as close to each other as possible without actually holding hands. I think I make a face; similar to the expression, which Ron has been wearing since we met Harry and Malfoy on the train. It’s just disturbing to see them so sweet together. It’s like there is some invisible bonds tying one to another. It is impossible to miss or dismiss the intimacy or closeness they share.

Ron and I, we were the same when we just got together, I am just wondering if Harry found it as disturbing as it is for me watching them. Is it because they are male couple? I don’t want to think that I am finding it strange to see their closeness because they are both men. I like to think that I am above such prejudice. But am I?

Logic says that the sooner I accept the situation, the easier my life is going to be and that it is wrong to hold someone’s sexuality against them. I mean I am not backwards like that… but

As we enter the Great Hall, I can’t help but notice that a lot of other students are giving us a wide berth. I assume, because of who Harry is and because of Draco Malfoy by his side, of course. We always laugh about all the nonsense “The Daily Prophet” is making up, but it is unwise to forget that the rest of the world might take it seriously enough and there has been so much slur in the paper since Malfoy’s trial.

And the latest piece of fiction – Draco Malfoy seen with Harry Potter imposer – ridiculous if you ask me.
However, seeing them together here now, people are certainly wondering. And they are walking so close together. But they won’t be wondering for long; Harry has announced that they are together to everyone who stopped by our compartment, so by the end of the opening fest it will be all over school and tomorrow morning we will probably find out what is Skeeter’s take on all of this. Since she had registered as an animagi the woman’s viciousness has increased twice.

There are four tables as usually. Harry and Draco stop, Harry says him that they could sit together at the Gryffindor table. Malfoy shakes his head. He is looking over at the Slytherins and I see that a girl and a boy… no, a young woman and a young man are standing and the man is waving at him. It’s Parkinson! And Zabini!

And why am I so surprised and almost excited?

Silly, but I guess I am glad for every little bit that hasn’t been destroyed by the war, even for Pansy Parkinson, the nasty girl she has always been.

“He is going to be alright,” I put a hand on Harry’s arm and after some intense staring at Draco (it nearly looks like they are telepathically linked and communicating in their thoughts), Harry nods and Malfoy is allowed to sit with his own housemates.

Oh, Harry, honestly…

We sit with our year. It works for Harry, since our group moulds closely around him, sheltering him from at least some of the curious gawkers.

Everything as usually starts with the sorting of the first years and I can’t miss that there are less of them than when we started Hogwarts. When McGonagall stands up to say the speech and introduces us to the professors, I glance at Harry. He looks incredibly sad for a moment and I wonder once again what he really feels about professor Dumbledore and everything that happened. I do realise that all was not as simple. For most Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore are heroes. Voldemort and his Death Eaters, the villains. I am afraid they haven’t even leaned their lesson and continue to be set in their prejudiced ways with the only difference that different kind of prejudice is allowed these days… but sometimes I think that maybe Harry is more of a victim than a hero in this--

“--it is also my pleasure to announce that Professor Severus Snape has returned to his post and will teach Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

That’s a surprise. I wouldn’t want to be disrespectful, but I would have thought that professor Snape would never return to teaching. Honestly, it does seem that he hates children.

“Have a good meal,” headmistress McGonagall has finally finished. She snaps her fingers and food starts appearing on the tables. I can’t help, but think of the poor house elves who have cooked all of this… but I look around at my house mates and decide not to say anything, seeing them attacking the food vigorously. I don’t think any of them would be in a mood to listen. And it has been a long day, and I am not sure if I am in a mood to speak, I hope the elves will forgive me tonight.

Next to me Harry just can’t sit still, he keeps fidgeting and looking at Malfoy. No, really! How will they manage school if he can’t let the lover boy out of his sight for duration of a meal?

After everyone has finished eating, the students are ordered to follow the prefects to their dormitories, except the ‘older’ students. Well, what would be the proper term – the war veterans? God, I sound bitter. But sometimes I think that it’s terribly unfair that children…

“Alright,” headmistress McGonagall clears her throat. “First, I am glad to see so many of us here who are willing to finish their education. But since there are so many of you and considering the significant age difference, it won’t be possible to place you with your houses. For that reason we have opened the apprentice quarters for your use. You will be sharing rooms according to your gender and house affiliation. Your classes will be held separately from regular students. We all are grateful to professor Snape who has agreed to instruct you in both potions and defence.”

Two classes with Snape, the boys are going to love it…

“During the meals you can join your respective houses. I am warning you that it’s still required that you obey the school rules. Failure to do that will result in loss of house points and detention. Since all of you are of age, you are allowed to leave school premises after classes, we can’t prohibit you to that. But I would like to use this privilege with consideration and conduct yourselves as responsible adults you are. If anyone has any questions, you can approach me or the heads of your houses.”

With that she is finished and the current Head Girl Gryffindor sixth year Trudy Shamrock and Hufflepuff seventh year Owen Cauldwell are waiting for us to walk us to our new tower.

Harry instantly moulds himself into Malfoy’s side and we follow our guides.

There was a passage about the apprentice tower in the ‘Hogwarts: The History’. It was used when a lot of professors took apprentices to train them. It was during the times when, for example, St. Mungo’s wasn’t opened yet and if someone wanted to train as a mediwizard they had to find a master who could teach them. And Hogwarts has always had the best professors, so there apparently were many witches and wizards who wanted to become their apprentices.

That’s what I tell Ron, but I have a feeling that he’s only pretending to be listening, but actually is trying desperately to overheard what Dean and Ernie Macmillan are talking about Quidditch. Sometimes I really wonder why we are together when we have so little in common.
But on the other hand, I don’t think I could stand to be with someone like me for life. Why would I need another bookworm? Ron is smart too, just not in the same way as me. I think we compliment each other nicely.

I watch Harry and Malfoy out of the corner of my eye. They don’t look too happy. I wonder, why.

Draco’s POV

The Slytherin table looked like a comb with missing teeth during the fest with so many empty spaces, so many students refusing to sit by each other. From my year there was only Pansy and Blaise whom I was deliriously glad to see, but of course, took care to hide. We exchanged polite phrases in silent agreement to talk more later, preferably somewhere with less people, who could overhear us, around. One never knows who is listening.

During the sorting and the meal, we exchanged several significant looks. Of course all of us three noticed how unhappy the first years that were sorted in the Slytherin were. Of course pansy and Blaise looked disappointed when McGonagall announced that Slughorn would remain the head of our house, even after Snape’s return.

I hope I managed to school my expression into an appropriate scowl my own, despite I had no idea how exactly I should feel about Severus being here.

When I looked around the table, I came to realisation that I didn’t really know who was who here. Some of the students had been too young to really matter and express any opinion and there was no way to tell where they stood. Besides, even those who one thinks he knows very well can surprise one in a very unpleasant way. I wasn’t eager to return to the tower and face the power struggles that would most certainly ensue. Too much uncertainty.

Some of them were already watching me, evaluating. I was a bit disgusted by the lack of subtlety I noticed. I decided that maybe it was good that Severus was no longer the head of our house; it would be a shame if he were responsible for this brood.

But did it matter? Did Severus want anything to do with me? I was afraid to even look at him, to meet his eyes. I wish he wasn’t here, it had made things easier. I didn’t want to run into him in the hall and see him sneering down on me, I didn’t want him to call me out at the potions and humiliate the same way he used to belittle Harry. I didn’t want him to hate me. When I didn’t see him, I could pretend that he didn’t hate me, but now…

We are all following the Head girl and the Head boy to our new rooms and Harry is obviously sensing my unease. But I can’t stop thinking of Severus. He has always been one of the rare people I have ever trusted and then. I refuse, I don’t want to think about it, it’s too… and now he is going to be my professor again.

I don’t really know how that will go, I guess I will see when the first Potions lesson comes.

I will be sharing room with Blaise since there are only two of us, Slytherins who has returned. The rest of the survivors have probably gone to Durmstrang or even Beubaxtons, which is probably not a bad idea.

As most of the other students go inside their rooms to explore Potter and I remain behind in the hall. He looks like he will have a seizure of some sorts any moment from now.

“We will manage,” I tell him with confidence I don’t actually feel. We will have to though.

“What’s that Blaise like?” He asks then.

“Are you jealous already,” I smirk.

He raises an eyebrow: “Jealous? I wanted to know if he was trustworthy. Do I have a reason to be jealous?”

“Not while you keep me happy, dear,” I am a bit upset that he outsmarted me and turned around what I said. But then I am a little proud too. Potter is smarter than he looks. “But seriously Harry, I will be fine and Blaise is alright. Go to your friends now. Talk about Quidditch or whatever. I have my own catching up to do.”

He looks like he is about to turn around and go when he suddenly grabs me by the front of my robe and kisses me. Hard.

When I close the door of the room behind me I am still in a bit of a daze and somewhat breathless.

Blaise and Pansy are already sitting on one of the beds both grinning like idiots. I sit (or rather fall) down on the opposite bed.

“So,” I start. “How have you been?”

“In hiding, Italy,” Blaise states and I nod. He has a lot of relatives there.

“The same, only South Africa,” Pansy says.

“We wanted to come to your trial, but weren’t sure if that was wise,” Blaise smiles sadly.

“I am glad you didn’t,” too many witnessed my humiliation already.

“How was it?” Blaise asks next, refusing to meet my eyes. I know exactly what he means. He is asking how it was to be a Death Eater or being with them, the same thing for me really.

“Terrible,”

Blaise nods as if I had just confirmed something he had already known very well. Which was probably true.

Pansy walks over and hugs me. I put my hand on her back rubbing it reassuringly. It’s surprisingly comforting.

“Let’s change the topic,” I suggest.

We are Slytherins. I won’t cry on their shoulder, because I have nothing to cry about, I am here, alive. I survived. I will not call them cowards and blame them for running away, because I wish I were in their place.

“Of course, Draco,” Pansy lets go of me. She smirks as Blaise levitates a bottle of vine and three glasses (not goblets) out of his trunk; he spells the bottle open and pours into the glasses. Pansy tears the lid off a huge, golden box of chocolate cowered cherries.

“Tell me Draco,” Blaise asks handing me one of the glasses with a mischievous glint in his almond shaped brown eyes. “What is the deal with you and Potter?”

I know this has been coming, and I am not going to hide anything or lie, but I want to be difficult about it out of sheer spite: “And what should be there with me and Potter?”

“Oh, caro don’t give me that! You walk in the Great Hall practically holding hands and you then keep shooting those bizarre looks at each other all the time during the fest. Then he walks you to the dorms and whispers on your ear. What is happening Draco?” Now Blaise looks a bit worried.

I must admit that I have not expected that.

“If he is threatening you with something you have to tell us, we will help you Draco!” Pansy suddenly bursts out.

I look at them stunned for a couple of seconds before burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny, Malfoy?” Pansy asks crossly.

I take a deep breath to calm myself down: “That you think Potter is doing something bad to me.”

“And what do you want us to think! We worry about you!” The woman is indignant.

I feel almost sorry for being a prick: “Me and Potter, we have kind of reconciled.”

Which is technically true. I just don’t want to drop the whole truth over their heads just like that. I want to make them beg for it.

While I am trying to find the right words Blaise’s eyes suddenly widen: “Draco! You… you… you are screwing him!”

I make a face – trust Zabini to put it so… I had already forgotten that he could be so crude.

“You are!” Pansy sounds accusing.

Oh, apparently it’s written all over my face.

I don’t quite want to agree with the term Blaise used though: “Something like that.”

“So, Malfoy, you guard your cherry as close as your wand and in the end Potter gets it, that’s soo disturbing,” Blaise snorts. “Oh, look, he’s blushing, isn’t that cute! Potter must not be doing it properly if our little dragon still can blush.”

Oh, for…

“I am not blushing; you are seriously pissing me off! He is rich, famous, good looking and the most desirable bachelor of this year. I don’t see anything wrong with my choice!”

“Oh, come on, you know that’s just a load of dragon dung. The real Potter is a goody-goody and a Gryffindor…”

“You, Zabini, have no idea what’s the real Potter is like and will never have a chance to find out and I assure you for that I pity you. Best here are a lot of advantages to having a petGgryffindor.”

“Of course you would say so,”

“Why don’t you get yourself one, and then talk,” I smirk at him, trying to make the conversation lighter. I can feel that are a bit rankled ad can’t decide what to make of this.

“I am so not doing the Weasel,” Blaise chirps.

I make an appropriately disgusted face: “I take back all the good things that I have ever said about you; you are a very sick wizard Blaise Zabini!”

“I don’t believe you have anything to take back, because I don’t remember you ever saying anything good about me, Malfoy,”

“Oh, well… Must be because I couldn’t think about anything!”

We laugh and then sip on our wine in silence.

“But seriously, Draco, why?” Pansy still hasn’t lost that concerned look.

I sigh, what can I tell them? “What do you want me to tell you? It just happened.”

“How could ‘it’ just happen? Last time I saw you, you fucking hated Potter and he fucking hated you!” Pansy stands up, hands on her hips, looking like some kind of fierce lioness, wanting to protect me. “And now you are fucking!”

I wince. Too crude. And I don’t need protection from her. I have Potter. He is the one who will protect me. The one whom I trust. How dares she demanding answers of me!

“A lot has changed since then. You weren’t there! No one was there!”

Not really, even father was not really there for me. He would sacrifice me for himself or his Lord any time. Mother was never really there, she was as weak as I. And it turns out that Severus as well was not the person I thought he was.

“Then Potter was,” Harry, he loves me. He is strong, but he isn’t selfish. What he asks I can give willingly. With great pleasure, actually. He will never ask me to do things I don’t want to, he will never demand mindless obedience, and he will never intentionally abuse the power he has over me. He accepts me as I am and will never demand me to change for him. He loves me unconditionally. I trust him.

Of course there was that misunderstanding in the beginning, but I am trying to forget it, it doesn’t matter. I trust him now.

“Pansy, calm down,” Blaise gently interrupts our glaring contest. “Potter can’t be that bad, eh? Our hero, saved everyone in the end didn’t he?” He ads lightly. The boy has always been so damn… mental.

“Tell me he didn’t force you into anything, Draco?” Pansy has calmed down, but that doesn’t mean that she will let go. The woman has always been so damn hysterical. When she was pretending to be my girlfriend, we were always shouting and throwing things and hexes at each other…

“Of course he didn’t force me,” technically I am lying, but let’s leave technicalities to the petty and small-minded.

She still looks dubious and I decide that I treasure my peace more than my dignity at the moment: “I am happy, Pansy. He is what I want,” there, happy?

“Pansy, lay off him,” Blaise pops a chocolate covered cherry in his mouth. “Potter has grown up nicely. I can understand Draco. Had I known that Potter swung that way…” he trails of wistfully.

We both ignore the lecher. I kind of like Blaise and kind of hate him as well. Can never decide to hug or throttle the guy.

“So,” Blaise continues with a leer. “What is The-Boy-Who-Lived like?”

“He can cook food,” I offer.

“Fuck, Draco,” Pansy rolls her eyes. “We don’t care if he can cook. House elves can cook too. You haven’t change much, have you? Still thinking that Mommy and Daddy mixed you up from potions ingredients?”

My cheeks burn up a bit. That was so traumatised, when I finally found out that I had been misinformed. I was a very sheltered child.

“Shut up, Pansy,” they both snicker. Traitors.

“We want to know what he’s like in bed, honey,” she clarifies in a patronising intonation.

They have always made fun of my ‘innocence’ and the fact that I have never been comfortable discussing some things and found the way they talk inappropriate.

And I didn’t even think about snogging some girl in a broom closet or anything like that. First of all, I wouldn’t want to go in a dusty, dank closet for any reason and then exchanging my saliva with another person… I thought it was disgusting. How could I know if she brushed her teeth often enough?
Besides, girls didn’t really attract me, I might know why now, but back then I didn’t even consider snogging a boy. It was unthinkable. I was supposed to marry a witch and beget an heir…

But now I am not going to give them the satisfaction of embarrassing me now: “What do you think? Of course he is good in bed. You have seen how he flies his broom or fights? Then you should have an idea.” I smirk, hoping that it won’t morph into a sappy smile.

Pansy giggles: “A Gryffindor lion, isn’t he?”

“Quite,” I confirm proudly.

Pansy chuckles then.

“What?” What now?

“Sorry, Draco, I shouldn’t have doubted your relationship with Potter. But now when I see that sappy smile on your face…”

She doesn’t have a chance to finish, because I throw a pillow at the witch.

“Here have another candy Draco!”

We stay up late and chat about everything that comes in our mind. But we never mention Vince and Greg and many other topics.

Later Blaise is snoring net to me, the lucky bastard. Almost like the old times. Only there’s only two of us.

Overall the night is terrible. Just terrible. I can’t get to sleep at first. Usually after drinking some wine I nod of easily, but not tonight. I am tired, I feel like I am about to… but nothing happens. I think about Harry. What is he doing, is he sleeping, could I maybe sneak out and…

And what? Sneak in the Gryffindor room? Like some needy little thing that can’t sleep in his own bed for one night without his large Potter-shaped teddy bear?

Now that would be pathetic.

I have felt miserable and pathetic enough lately and I am afraid that there will be no recovering for my dignity if I ad this.

I grit my teeth and stay in the bed, I hope that maybe I will manage get at least a couple of hours of sleep before the classes start.

TBC

A/N: I hope you appreciate the long chapters and that you are still with me.
Well, I have a feeling that there are not many of you, butI am still going to finish the story.