The Foundation

he Foundation

By: Newshound

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and company are the exclusive property of J.
K. Rowling. This fiction is entirely for entertainment purposes and no
money is being made from it.

Chapter 6: Can't Trust That Day

Once Draco had issued his dinner invitation to Davinci, he knew instantly he'd done the right thing.

Sometime over the past year or so he'd developed a keen – and admittedly necessary – interest in the hobby of cooking. He had learned to enjoy experimenting with different recipes and finding dishes that complemented each other.

He made a quick trip to the local market, purchasing some fresh spring vegetables to accompany the chicken he planned to roast. He found some perfectly ripe apples he decided to use in a recipe for caramel apple tart he'd wanted to try He last stop was to pick up some vanilla ice cream he thought would make the perfect addition to the tart. He already had the ingredients at home for his specialty – homemade bread.

Baking bread had become the latest addition to his culinary repetoire. Making the perfect loaf of bread took enormous patience, strict attention to detail and just the right amount of creativity and intuition. He had discovered that concentrating all his attention on producing yet another fabulous loaf, he was rewarded not only with a delicious treat, but a welcome solution to the street with which he struggled daily. Kneading each loaf provided an almost cathartic release from the frustrations that seemed at times to assail him from every direction.

He carried his precious cargo in his canvas tote and walked the short distance back to his home, mentally rehearsing all the steps in preparing the special dinner.

He began preparing dinner immediately upon arriving home and then when the chicken roasted, he tidied up the parlor. Hopefully Davinci wouldn't be very late this time.

Davinci miraculously arrived right on time and they shared the meal together, Davinci deliberately keeping the conversation light. It was over coffee and dessert that Davinci finally broached the subject of the party.

“You know I've been dying to ask, so tell me, who did you leave the party with?” He asked, a glimmer in his eye.

“I really don't feel comfortable -” Draco said.

“What has got you in such a state, Draco?” Davinci said frowning at him.

“I think I screwed things up pretty bad,” Draco admitted reluctantly.

“How's that?” Davinci said, prodding him gently.

“Well, for starters, I got drunk and high, and then I left with someone who, in retrospect, I really wish I hadn't,” Draco said. “The sex was okay – what I remember of it anyway – but now, God, I don't know, Davinci. I'd really like to see him again, but I don't know how he'd respond to that. I genuinely like him and I 'd really enjoy being friends with him, but I don't know what to do with last night.”

“So why not just ask him out on a date?” Davinci said. “See what happens?”

“I'm not sure the feeling's mutual, Davinci,” Draco said. “Truthfully, I think he just went along for the ride – no pun intended.”

“So why not just tell him what you've told me?” Davinici said.

“I suspect he regrets last night,” Draco answered.

“So what?” Davinci said. “So do you.”

“I think I took advantage of him, Davinci,” Draco said.

“A grown man?” Davinci said. “Please Draco, we're not talking about a starry-eyed schoolboy here. Are we?”

“No,” Draco said laughing.

“Listen, give it a few days, mull it over till you have some perspective on it,” Davinci suggested. “I'm sure things will work themselves out. Now for the real question – who is our mystery man?”

“You know I don't kiss and tell, Davinci,” Draco replied smiling.

They shared several exciting games of ches and whn Davinci left the house several hours later, Draco felt almost back to his normal self.

He picked up his daughter early Saturday morning and spent the entire weekend playing with her, taking her to the park and shopping for new toys. He brought her back to her mother Sunday afternoon after a late lunch, Davinci's party and the ensuing romantic encounter all but forgotten.

When he arrived back home, he brewed some coffee and headed to his small, cozy study to prepare and mentally rehearse for the next day's events at the camp. Suddenly he remembered he'd moved his notes on the camp to his dresser, and depositing his coffee at his desk, walked into his bedroom to fetch the notes.

He found the notes buried under some clothes piled on the dresser, Harry's shirt on the very bottom. He stared at it, suddenly puzzled by it. Why had Harry left it? He'd gathered all his other things and taken them with him, why not the shirt?

“Maybe he couldn't find it,” he thought. Harry had remembered where his trousers and boxers had ended up – flung over the foot of the bed – and Draco vaguely remembered them discarding their shoes and jackets near the front door. Harry would have seen them on the way out.

And why hadn't he taken one of the brooms home, especially considering his dislike of apparition? Although, when he thought about it, he could understand about the broom. Apparition was much quicker and Harry had probably sobered up pretty well by then.

Still, the shirt thing bugged him. He flopped down on the bed, fingering the shirt. When he felt a cascade of memories wash over him, he gave into the sensation.

He had collapsed next to Harry, flinging an arm over his chest and pulling him close. He felt Harry gently moving his arm and without thinking said, “You're not leaving are you? Don't leave. Stay with me tonight.”

He sat up shivering in the cold. “God it's freezing in here. No wonder you were shaking. Let's get a fire going.”

He walked out into the parlor, returning with his wand and got a nice fire going in the large fireplace in the corner of the bedroom. He used a special spell he'd learned from his mother. Seeing the confused look on Harry's face he said, “It'll make the fire lower when it gets warm and then higher when it gets colder in here.” He remembered casting a cleansing spell on Harry and then climbing in next to Harry.

“Let's get you under those covers,” he said, cuddling up to Harry, resting his head on Harry's shoulder and threw a leg over Harry, tucking his foot behind Harry's knee. He felt Harry pull his face close, wanting a kiss, something Draco was only too happy to give him.

Now he was even more confused. Why had Harry left? At least the memory had answered one question; he now knew why he'd expected someone to be there in the morning.

And why hadn't Harry said goodbye? If he didn't want to stay all he had to do was say so. And why bother kissing him and cuddling if he intended to leave? The whole thing made absolutely no sense at all.

“Maybe he figured the shirt wasn't worth bothering about,” Draco speculated. “You did tear off the buttons.”

What really bothered him was Harry not saying goodbye, not acknowledging him. Of course Harry hadn't really acknowledged him, even while they were making love.

“Maybe he tried and you wouldn't wake up,” Draco thought. “Or maybe he did and you just don't remember.”

Fuck, this was getting nuts. Who cared anyway? Harry was nothing but a convenient fuck – and not a very good one at that, although those kisses had been utterly divine. It wasn't like they had a deep, meaningful relationship or anything. Technically they didn't have any kind of relationship; they were just casual acquaintances really.

And why that thought made him sad, he had no idea.

* * * * * *

Draco arrived at Davinci's office promptly at 8 a.m., dressed in his finest robes. He had everything carefully prepared and the event was planned down to the last minute. These were the times he missed Daphne most; organizing and conducting these type of events was her forte and Draco was in awe of her ability to manage a myriad of details seemingly without effort.

“My secretary will bring us breakfast, Draco,” Davinci offered. “Sit down. Relax for a bit.”

“I'm not hungry, Davinci,” Draco insisted. “You know how nervous these things make me.”

“You?” Davinci said surprised. “You've done this a million times. You're an old hand.”

Draco managed to drink some weak tea and eat a few bites of toast, while Davinci devoured eggs, sausage and toast.

“Have you got your speech prepared?” Draco asked.

“Well, about that,” Davinci said around a mouthful of eggs. “You know how awful I am at speeches, so I asked Harry if he might fill in for me.”

“Harry who?” Draco asked, fearing the worst.

“Harry Potter, of course,” Davinci said, swallowing the rest of his tea. “Don't worry you probably won't have a lot of interaction. I saw how you two behaved at my party – dreadful display.”

“Fuck Davinci why did you invite him?” Draco said angrily. “He's supposed to be your silent partner.”

“This is a cause near and dear to his heart,” Davinci explained calmly. “Apparently he is quite the art and music fan.”

“He doesn't know the first fucking thing about art or music!” Draco snapped. “What does he care anyway?”

“What difference could it possibly make?” Davinci argued back. “His attendance – and interest – has generated a great deal of media attention, not to mention financial support.”

“Oh, of course,” Draco said fuming. “Who cares about giving disadvantaged young wizards and witches an opportunity to develop their talents and open their minds to a better way of life? It's 'The Chosen One” we want – if he thinks it's worthwhile, it certainly must be!”

“Draco!” Davinci scolded him. “What exactly is the problem here? You've never objected to using anyone's notoriety or fame – your own included – to generate interest in your projects, not to mention garner donations.”

“Nothing!” Draco answered hotly. “All right? No problem at all! God forbid I am not counted among his worshippers, gathered at his feet, praising his name. Apparently, I am the one wizard destined to resent him.”

“Why do you resent him?” Davinci said confused. “What has he done?”

“Reject me,” Draco said pouting.

“Heavens, not that again!” Davinci said. “You're too old for this Draco. Put it behind you already.”

“That's easy for you to say, Davinci,” Draco said

“Oh please Draco,” Davinci said. “You expect the entire world to put your past behind you – your wife especially. Why can't you do the same for him?”

“Davinci, let's just go,” Draco said sighing. “I don't feel up to this discussion right now. It's going to be hard enough seeing him again.”

“Oh, before we go, here's your copy of the program,” Davinci said handing him a copy of the schedule of program events.

Draco glanced through the program, growing more angry as his eyes moved down the page.


Opening Ceremony of the Divinity Camp for Music and Art

Welcoming Remarks ...................... Draco Malfoy, Director Divinity Foundation

Introduction to the Camp ............... Draco Malfoy, Honorary Camp Administrator

The Importance of Art and Music
in the Young Wizard's Life .............. Harry Potter

Benefits of the Camp Experience .... Harry Potter

Introduction to Staff ......................... Harry Potter

Tour of the Facilities ......................... Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy

Draco was livid. He had initially designated himself and Davinci as hosts, but apparently, Davinci had abdicated that role to Harry.

“Unfuckingbelievable!” he thought.

* * * * *

Harry had arrived much earlier than Davinci had suggested. He wanted a private look around the grounds, especially after finding out he would be performing all of Davinci's responsibilities. Davinci had said he would be sharing duties with the head of the Divinity Foundation, whoever that was. It was probably some old fuddy-duddy with more money than brains.

He got so caught up looking through the classrooms and the large auditorium he barely noticed the time. He heard a crowd of people gathering at the entrance and he hurried over making his way toward the stage on which a group of wizards was putting the final touches. It appeared everything was ready for the opening ceremonies to begin. He patted his pocket feeling for his notes on the speech he had prepared the previous evening.

He recognized Davinci immediately and he smiled and waved before rushing up the steps to the stage.

“Davinci I'm sorry -” he said, stopping mid-sentence when he saw the man standing next to his business partner.

End Chapter 6