Forgotten Not Forgiven

Author's Note: Many thanks to Laurel for her beta work on this chapter.

Chapter 8 Worthless Apologies

The room spinning in Harry’s vision was familiar, but not his own. The sheets tucked around him were a powdery blue and the bed frame was distressed ivory color with a darker shade peeking out from where the lighter paint was strategically peeling away. Groaning from the throbbing ache in his head, Harry sat up and stretched before reaching for a glass of water sitting next to the bed. Dappled sunlight streamed through flowery curtains casting shadows across the dark room. When the light hit the metallic silver door handle, making it sparkle and shine, Harry was briefly reminded of Malfoy’s flinty gaze, a memory that made him smile involuntarily until the events of the previous day flooded back to him in one fell swoop.

The reason for him waking up in his friends’ guest room suddenly made more sense than he would have liked it to. Betrayed by his wife and his friend; how could Harry’s life have become such a sham? Most of his adult life had revolved around making Ginny happy, making their loveless marriage the best it could be, and she had repaid him with infidelity.

And then there was Malfoy. He supposed he should have expected as much from the icy Slytherin, but Harry honestly thought he’d sensed a change in him. Obviously he was mistaken. It seemed Draco Malfoy was still the same selfish bastard he’d loathed in school, the boy who was apparently still trying to one-up Harry, but this time the blond had gone too far.

Harry sluggishly pulled himself out of bed and scanned the room for his clothes. He found them folded neatly on a bench at the end of the bed and blushed slightly at the thought of Hermione undressing him. He knew it had to have been her because, had it been Ron, no doubt his clothes would have been piled on the floor, or more likely, still on him. He hoped he hadn’t been a terrible nuisance to his friends; he only vaguely remembered Ron entering the pub to speak with him. Apparently Ron at least had forgiven his mistaken accusations, though he worried Hermione might take longer to completely forgive him. She was the type to brood quietly, so one never really knew exactly what she thought of things until she was ready to confess them, or until she got over them on her own.

After dressing, Harry crept out of the room and toward the main living area. He had no idea what time it was or if he would be interrupting anything with his being there. He heard Hermione and Ron’s voices trail over to him and he paused when he heard his name.

“So, what do you think Harry will do?” Hermione asked her husband.

“I don’t know, Mione. He seems pretty devastated, and rightly so. When I found Ginny at their place yesterday she was a mess, but I couldn’t help thinking that she deserved it. Just the fact that she so adamantly accused Harry of being unfaithful when it was her all along made me want to disown her right there,” Ron replied, sounding almost as injured as Harry felt by the betrayal.

“She’s your sister, Ron,” Hermione reminded him. “She made a mistake. You can’t crucify her for it.”

“Can’t I?” Ron barked. Harry cleared his throat as he walked into the living room. He didn’t want his relationship with Ginny –or lack thereof- to start more problems and arguments between Ron and Hermione then it already had.

“Thanks for your hospitality,” Harry told them when they both turned to meet his gaze. “I should probably get out of your hair now.”

“Nonsense,” Hermione bristled and gestured for Harry to sit while she took off into the kitchen. “I have breakfast for you and I think we all need to chat.”

Harry had been afraid of that. “What about?” he asked coyly.

“Don’t you ‘what about’ me, Harry,” she grumbled. “So far we have a vague idea of what happened from Gin, but we’ve been waiting for you to wake up so that you can fill us in on the rest.”

“There’s nothing to say really,” Harry muttered darkly, wise enough not to refuse Hermione’s offered seat. “I walked in on Malfoy shagging my wife and I left.”

“You walked in on it?” Ron blurted, his face going red. “Ginny just told me you’d found out.”

“Well, she also told me that she loved me, clearly your sister has a problem with getting her facts straight,” Harry replied bitterly and then snapped his mouth shut at Hermione’s sharp look. “I see you’re taking her side?” he commented.

“I’m not taking anyone’s side,” she corrected at once. “I can simply see both sides rather clearly.”

“Oh, so enlighten me, Mi. What did I do wrong?” Harry asked, more angrily than he had intended.

“You weren’t very attentive to her, Harry, and you know it,” she replied. “I don’t even know why you married her, you never did seem very attracted to her after the war.”

“How can you say that? We tried for over a year to have children,” Harry protested.

“And perhaps if you’d been successful this wouldn’t have happened, or perhaps bringing children into a loveless marriage would have made this divorce that much worse,” she reasoned calmly.

Harry’s jaw dropped. He had thought the word ‘divorce’ over and over since his recent discovery, but hearing it out loud and directed at him so bluntly had a sobering effect. He sunk further into his chair and knew he probably looked as defeated as he felt. “It’s over, isn’t it?” he whispered, more for his own benefit than his friends’.

Hermione stopped what she was doing and threw a tender arm around her friend, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head. “I’m sorry, Harry, but yes, I’m afraid it is.”

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Draco knew he had to play things very carefully within the next few days. If he tried to contact Harry too soon the Gryffindor would no doubt blow up at him, but if he waited too long he knew he would just look guiltier than he already was.

Not for the first time, Draco wondered why he hadn’t just hired someone else to seduce Ginevra, but in the end he was always reminded that he couldn’t count on anyone but himself, so he’d done the awful deed on his own.

And awful it was. Draco must have gone through more soap in the last year than he had his entire life just trying to wash Ginevra off of him. He could only hope now that the effort had been worth it and that Harry would eventually see that they were meant to be together. Now that he’d made the perfect picture in his head of how their life together could be -a small and tasteful wedding, a cozy cottage by the seaside, and two beautiful children to dote on –he couldn’t imagine his life any other way.

All he needed now was for Harry to open up to him and realize that he too would adore the life that Draco was ready to build for them.

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Harry could see Ginny’s face in the Floo, and even surrounded by green flames it looked like she’d been crying for weeks. It was impossible, of course, as it had only been two days since Harry had left her, but she looked terrible.

“Harry needs to get into the house to fetch his things,” Ron was telling her.

“And I don’t want her there when I do,” Harry clarified from over his friends shoulder, though he refused to speak to Ginny directly.

“And he doesn’t want-” Ron began, but Ginny just shook her head and let out another strangled sob.

“I heard him,” she murmured. “I’m so sorry, Harry.”

“I don’t want to hear it, Gin,” Harry huffed. “I’ll come by while you’re at work tomorrow and I hope you have the dignity to keep away while I’m there.”

“Please, could we just meet for a moment? I want a chance to explain things and there is something you need to know about Malfoy,” she pleaded.

“Absolutely not!” Harry shouted, starting to get angry; he couldn’t believe she had the nerve to want to talk to him about her lover of all things. “If you won’t agree to stay away from the flat tomorrow, I’ll have to send Ron after my things. Then my lawyer can send you a list of anything that is missing.”

“A lawyer?” she gasped. “You already have a lawyer?”

“Yes,” he replied at once. “Hermione will be representing me. I suggest you find someone as well.” He didn’t want to admit it out loud but he had secretly enjoyed the look of dismay on his wife’s face when he’d told her that their friend would be representing him in their divorce.

“I see,” Ginny replied, drawing herself up and composing her face into a more neutral expression. Harry figured Malfoy had probably taught her how to do that. “Well, I’ll remain at work while you raid our home,” she sniped and ended the Floo call rather abruptly.

“I’d say that went… er… well,” Ron noted when Harry walked back toward the sitting room and plopped down in the nearest couch. He really needed to find somewhere else to stay. Ron and Hermione were great but he missed being able to come home and relax in a space that was just his. Besides, at this rate he wouldn’t have anywhere for Teddy to stay next weekend if he didn’t find a new place to live soon.

He grabbed the Daily Prophet and began circling flats for lease in the classified ads while Ron prattled on about his sister. “She seems pretty broken up over this.”

“I can’t help that,” Harry muttered. “She made her own bed and then she fucked someone else in it.”

Ron winced and wandered off, noting that Harry was still being rightfully bitter over the whole ordeal. He felt terrible for his friend, and even worse that it had been his sister to create all the damage, but he was at a loss as to what to do about it.

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Work went tediously slow on Monday, but Harry was surprised to learn that Ron had pulled his name from being considered for Head Auror when they returned to work the next day. Harry didn’t want a pity election into the position, in fact, he wasn’t even sure he wanted the job at all, but he had to admit that Ron was far too hotheaded to lead the entire Auror department. He fleetingly wondered if McGonagall had any potions open at Hogwarts that he might be qualified to fill.

He was almost through a pile of parchments when he spotted a brilliant red envelope in the stack. Carefully he pulled it out to keep the other papers from toppling over, and almost threw it in the garbage when he saw it was from Draco Malfoy. Instead he held it in his hands and simply stared at it for a while.

Eventually he yielded, curiosity getting the better of him, and opened the envelope.

Harry,

If you didn’t throw this in the rubbish from the start, I thank you. I just wanted to tell you that I am sorry for the way things went the other day and that I meant you no disrespect. Ginevra has been dishonest with both of us it seems.

She told me that you were aware of our affair and consenting of it. I must admit I had my doubts, but after you yourself told me that you and your wife had not been intimate in quite some time I assumed she was being truthful with me.

Seeing that I caused you pain has left me broken, Harry. I want nothing more than to find a way to make my transgressions up to you. I’ll be at the pub you frequent tonight, and I would love it if you gave me the opportunity to apologize in person.

Yours,

Draco

Harry took great pleasure in crumbling the parchment into a ball and tossing it in the bin. What the hell was Malfoy thinking trying to reach out to him like this? The man fucked his wife for Merlin’s sake. What did he expect, a high five and a membership into the ‘Ginny’s a Slag’ club?

Still, part of him itched for details about what went on behind his back. Had it been a one-time thing? It certainly didn’t sound like it, so, how long had it been going on? Days? Weeks? Months? Maybe Malfoy would know if there was anyone else she’d been unfaithful with.

His marriage was ruined, his mind was a mess, and he had no place to live, but perhaps he could get a free pint out of the deal. He was probably going to the pub after work regardless, so why not see if he could get some answers for the questions that had been driving him crazy these last few days.

He didn’t bother responding to Malfoy’s letter. Harry figured that he would just show up and if Malfoy was there, great, and if he wasn’t, even better.

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The pub was filled with patrons when Harry arrived, but none of them had the telltale platinum blond hair of the Slytherin prat he was meeting there. After scanning the crowd a few times, making sure he hadn’t overlooked anyone, Harry finally settled on a stool at the bar and ordered a Firewhiskey.

It was odd to him that he felt mildly disappointed that the blond hadn’t shown, but eventually he just shrugged it off as for the best. He didn’t know what he would do if he saw the Slytherin now, not after what he’d seen just a couple of days ago.

Harry had been there for almost an hour when he felt a hand press into his shoulder. “Harry?” Draco greeted, his thick drawl making Harry’s insides boil. “You came.” Draco looked fine, completely unconcerned by his actions as he stood there behind Harry’s seat. His gray eyes were expectant and Harry suddenly wanted to be anything but predictable and kind.

Without letting himself think about it, Harry hurled his fist into the face of the self-satisfied git. He heard the crunch of Draco’s bone breaking and was momentarily pleased that the man would be drinking a hefty dose of Skelegrow before bed tonight. Just seeing the man’s smug face drenched in blood and marred by the broken nose Harry had given him, made him smile inwardly.

Draco blinked, apparently still in shock, and his hand flew to cover his bleeding nose. “I suppose I deserve that,” he muttered through his fingers, his speech impaired and nasally from his injury.

The adrenaline had worn off and suddenly Harry was feeling terrible. He raided a bunch of napkins from the bar and stuffed them into Draco’s hand, who in turn crammed them against his nostrils to staunch the bleeding. “Well, no one could ever say that you punch like a girl, Potter,” Draco grumbled as he took a seat next to the spontaneously violent man.

“Malfoy, I’m so sorr-” Harry began, but Draco cut him off with a harsh shake of his head, before wincing from the movement.

“Don’t you dare apologize to me, Harry,” Draco sighed. “This is the least I deserve for ruining your marriage.”

“You didn’t ruin it alone,” Harry huffed and leaned over his empty glass. After a moment, once all the adrenaline had run its course, Harry lifted his wand to heal the bond’s fractured nose. Light glimmered across his pale face for a moment before vanishing and leaving the blond looking as prefect as he’d been when Harry met him on his first trip to Diagon Alley. Traces of blood were still visible, but Harry had repaired the significant part of the damage and he didn’t feel up to granting any more favors for the lecherous Slytherin.

“Two of what Harry’s having,” Draco called out to the bartender, who eyed them both with unease. It seemed he was going to let the pair stay so long as there were no more punches thrown. “Yes, I did,” Draco answered, turning his attention back to Harry.

“I still can’t believe she did this to me,” Harry murmured, more to himself than to Draco. “How long?”

Draco winced and looked as though he was in great pain but the nose was healed now, so Harry assumed it was emotional, not physical. “About a year,” he admitted at last.

“A year!” Harry exclaimed, his voice rising in such a way that Draco held his hand up to protect his face in case Harry wasn’t quite finished pummeling him.

Harry’s hands formed into fists at his side, but he merely used them to grind into his own skull with frustration. “How could I have been so blind?”

“Part of the reason I assumed she was being honest with you was because I never got a confrontation of any kind from you. You have to believe me, Harry. I didn’t do any of this to hurt you,” Draco sighed, and Harry was surprised to find that Draco actually meant that.

“Well, it doesn’t matter now,” Harry muttered after a pregnant pause. “Everything is crumbling down around me.”

“Where are you staying?” Draco pried. “At the flat I would assume?”

“No,” Harry grumbled darkly. “I can’t even look at that place without remembering what happened there. I picked up most of my things today, but they are sitting in storage. I’m staying with Ron and Hermione at the moment, but I want to find my own place.”

“You could stay with me,” Draco offered. “It’s the least I could do to help out, and the Manor has plenty of guest suites so you could have your privacy.”

“I couldn’t impose,” Harry replied quickly. It bothered him how much the prospect of seeing Draco everyday appealed to him. “I already have some places to contact. I circled a few of the flats that sounded like potential new bachelor pads.” Harry produced the paper and showed Draco the circled advertisements.

“They are all through Midge’s real estate company,” Draco observed. “She’s an old friend of mine. I can check on these for you.”

“That’s not necessary,” he replied, blushing slightly at Draco’s abundance of attention. “But maybe you could look through the list and let me know if any of them seem promising to you? I’ll be right back.”

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Draco watched as Harry left, heading for the loo, and immediately reached into his pocket for the Muggle cell phone he always carried. Wizarding society had no equivalent for the convenience of instant communication, no fireplace required. And no equivalent for computers, Internet, or television, much to Draco’s dismay, so he often reverted to Muggle technology. He quickly dialed the number listed and was pleased when Midge picked up. “I need a favor,” he said, forgoing a greeting, and she instantly knew who she was talking to.

“Anything for you, Draco dear,” she cooed. The old bat had been angling to get in his pants for years. Why did no one realize he was queer? It had taken thinking of a naked Harry Potter passionately shouting out his name to get it up for Ginevra.

“Your current flat listings, can I rent them?” he asked.

She giggled as if the request were unexpected. “Which one, Honey?”

“All of them,” Draco replied. “But I’ll need a month to month contract.”

Her giggle turned quickly into dead silence. “That would be several hundred galleons a month worth of property, Draco. Some of these are just right down the street from one another, why do you need all that?”

“Midge, have you ever known money to be an issue when it came to me?” Draco spoke clearly and firmly, making sure Midge knew he was in a hurry. “And as to why I need them, I don’t think that should concern you. Just draw up the papers and send them to my office. I’ll sign them tonight.”

“Consider it done,” she replied at last and Draco hung up the phone and pocketed it as Harry walked back.

“You have a cell phone?” Harry asked, mildly bemused.

“Yes, but I have bad news. I just spoke to Midge and she said all her current properties are under contract,” Draco told him, trying his best to look disappointed for the raven-haired man.

“All of them?” Harry asked, looking skeptical.

“I’m afraid so,” Draco sighed. “My offer still stands though. I’m sure you’re itching to get out of the Weasley-Granger household.”

Harry seemed taken aback by the new development and looked conflicted. “I’ll have to think about it,” he said at last.

“Fair enough,” Draco replied with a growing smile. He could tell that Harry was still upset, but he seemed far more upset at Ginevra than he did with him. Although, his still aching nose was proof enough that Harry still felt rage toward his old foe, but he knew it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle.

Things were finally falling into place.

Author's Note: So, here's the thing. This story is taking a few unexpected turns on me, and I'm carefully adapting the plot, but I think in the end the new story will be far more realistic than anything I had planned. I'm letting Draco continue with this creepy streak and we'll see where that leads him. Harry has a lot of soul searching to do.