A Dream For The Dead

WARNING: This takes place AFTER DH and the Epilogue. It is mostly epilogue compliant. There will be suggestions and very light M/F relationships, as well as hints towards other M/M relationships apart from Harry/Draco, but nothing that warrants a proper warning. This is also a work in progress, so please bear with me.

A Dream For The Dead

Chapter 1

Starless Eyes

There was always the discomfort, the overwhelming pull. A feeling that seemed to tear your soul from your rooted bones and leave you hollow. It was the sensation of free falling hundreds of feet and leaving your stomach behind. It was having your bones ripped from your body through your skin and being incapable of stopping it. Nowhere to run.
It had happened before, at least three times. The first time had been the worst and the experience had only marginally improved since then. Stare resolutely ahead, focus on a face, on a voice, and forget about what you know. Survive the moment, the motion, the call. Survive the knowledge.

Draco glanced around, through the people milling around, and spotted him. He was already staring at Draco. Their eyes met for a moment and Draco noticed the smooth shifting of shadows in his eyes, even from this far away.
He nodded to Harry Potter and Potter nodded back. A silent agreement, a silent acknowledgement.

Draco turned back to his son and saw him off as Scorpius ran, in as dignified a manner as an eleven year old could accomplish, onto the Hogwarts Express to find himself a seat and a friend. Draco watched as the light left his life and knew he wasn’t ready for it.

His eyes were focused, as they always were now, on Scorpius and nothing else. He barely noticed when two young witches walked up to him, holding out quills and photographs for him to sign. He snapped out of his reverie, temporarily losing focus and feeling the world slip away beneath him. He wavered on the spot for a moment before turning his attention to the girls. They were perhaps fourteen and were sporting little badges striped in pale green and scarlet with the word ‘Catapults’ emblazoned on them.

“Mr. Malfoy?” the braver of the two asked excitedly. “We’re sorry to bother you, but we’re just such big fans of yours. Would you mind signing these for us?”

Draco’s eyes fell on the photograph. It was a monochrome version of himself, leaning back against an armchair, his legs spread with his broomstick leaning against one thigh. His face was what the photographer had called ‘broodingly sexy’, though he had made no effort to be such. His photograph doppelganger looked out at him with troubled eyes. It shifted back into the seat and arched its back, portraying an image he felt to be somewhat inappropriate for fourteen year old witches.
Still, Draco smiled at them. He much preferred encountering fans than… well, the alternative.

“Sure,” he answered, his voice smooth and quiet. “What are your names?”

“My name is Aderyn,” said the brave girl. Her hair was dark and her skin was pale. “This is Gwen.” She nodded to her friend who was apparently mute and hair fair hair and skin. She could have almost been a Malfoy. “She’s too shy to talk to you but she loves you.” The fair girl turned a bright shade of red but Draco laughed softly.

“I’m flattered, Gwen,” he told her and winked at her. “I wish I had a pretty girl like you around when I was your age.” He signed both images with love. Gwen flushed more furiously red and Aderyn seemed to feel left out.

“She just likes you because of your looks,” she went on, wanting more attention for herself. “I like you because you’re the greatest Seeker in, like, a century. I follow all of your games and when my brother told me that the Catapults would lose to the Tornadoes I told him that was impossible because you are so much better than that twat, Asher Blightman.”

“Well thank you for the support,” he said, leaning in closer to them. His wife bristled beside him. “Tell you what. If and when we beat the Tornadoes, I’ll kiss the Snitch and that will be my sign to you.” Both girls nearly exploded in a fit of excitement as they left Draco and ran off towards the train.

Draco’s face darkened as they left him and he turned to the woman waiting behind him. His eyes were cold and distant but she did not notice.

“Draco,” she said, clicking her tongue in displeasure. “You can’t go around giving away signed photos, like that. Nor can you make promises to fans. What happens if you lose?” Draco sighed and held himself taller.

“I won’t lose, Aurora,” he answered curtly. She crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’d hate to see you start to turn young girls against you as well,” she snapped. “Furthermore, you have an image to maintain. You are the brooding heartthrob of the British and Irish League. You can’t be so compliant. Where’s your cutting Malfoy tongue?”
Draco rolled his eyes.

“A moment ago you told me not to turn them against me,” he reasoned, his signature drawl slipping back onto his tongue. He was bored with this same argument. He narrowed his eyes and tensed his jaw. “And I keep my cutting tongue just for you, love.”

His sarcasm did not sit well with Aurora. She huffed and shook her white-blond hair from her eyes.

“I will see you back at the Manor,” she said shortly before disapparating. He turned back around to glance through the mess of people but he was gone now, as was the train. He was glad he had missed it leaving.

The disconcerting feeling that Platform Nine and Three-Quarters gave Draco soon washed away and he closed his eyes momentarily. Then, his face set and his soul prepared, Draco disapparated from the train station to his meeting at the Ministry.

+++
Harry heaved a sigh as the Hogwarts Express pulled out of the station. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply for a moment before turning around. He glanced back around the station, his gaze briefly falling on Malfoy once more.

“Don’t you have to get to work, Harry?” Ginny asked him softly, her hand on his forearm from behind him. He turned to her and smiled.

“Yeah,” he answered and then turned to his daughter. “See you later, sweetpea.” He kissed Lily’s forehead and turned back to Ginny. “Do you need me to help take her home, first?” Harry asked, knowing that Ginny had never liked to drive Muggle cars. She shook her head.

“Please, Harry,” she said, pursing her lips. “I’ll be fine. I’ve been fine so far, haven’t I?” She smiled strangely at him and then brushed her hand to his cheek. “You get to work. And be careful.”

Harry swallowed and nodded, waving his daughter off as Ginny led her back to the barrier.

“You alright Harry?” Hermione’s voice inquired. He turned around and smiled brightly at her.

“Of course,” he answered. She considered him for a moment and shook her head.

“We best be off to work,” she told him. Hermione worked at the Ministry as well, though a different area. Hermione was a member of the Wizengamot and rather high up as well. Along with her peers, she helped create, change and remove various laws from the Ministry. They were the judge and jurors for Ministry trials. Harry was proud of her for that and also found himself quite thankful, more than once, that he knew someone in the Wizengamot.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Harry waved goodbye to Ron and, in time with Hermione, he apparated into the Atrium of the Ministry. He looked up at the gold statue and sighed again.

“Are you really alright, Harry?” Hermione asked him. She placed a hand on his shoulder and he looked off into the crowd. “I know it can’t be easy with Ginny…”

“I’m fine, Hermione,” he answered quietly. Then he turned to her. “Don’t worry about me.”

He left her and made his way to his office, greeting a number of coworkers on the way. He finally dropped himself behind his desk and took a deep breath. He looked at the little moving photograph he had of his family, staring at him from the corner of the desk and tried not to worry.

“Anything new today, Seamus?” Harry asked, turning in his chair to the desk across from his. He shared his office with Seamus Finnigan but they did not often work together. Seamus was a Hit Wizard.

“Not really, Harry,” he answered, disappointed. “Nothing worthy of the Auror Corps, anyway. There hasn’t really been anything noteworthy since the Carrows, and that was years ago.” He rifled through some papers. “Every time we get any kind of tip of Dark Magic being used, it just turns out to be some stupid kids testing out spells.”

Harry nodded in understanding. Seamus was right. The wizarding world would always have witches and wizards who believed in something that Voldemort had been preaching, but none of them had the conviction or the audacity to try anything now. Not after the war. Not after so much was lost. Even after nineteen years.

Harry was mostly glad for it, but it made his job terribly boring at times. He found himself filling his days with paperwork. The occasional brawl in a pub, or a theft of some relatively important magical object might take up a day or two. But otherwise, nothing. Harry wondered how it was he still had a job, how it was anyone still had a job in this department.
“I’m going to go check in with Hermione,” he said. “Maybe she’ll have something worthwhile to do.” Seamus nodded and went back to his paperwork.

Harry got up and walked out, aware that he had only just left Hermione and that she would not yet have settled into work. He decided to wander the Ministry, instead.

Without knowing why, he got into the lift and walked out onto level seven, mildly unaware of why he was there. Harry stared off into the distance as he walked, thinking about his life. Just a few years ago he had felt serene and content with the way things had turned. But now he was not so sure.

His family wasn’t what he thought it would be. His job wasn’t what he thought it would be. The world had turned into something everyone had hoped for but no one had prepared for. His entire life seemed to have wandered off without his consent and now he was stuck standing still.

“Ow! Watch where you’re going!” a disgruntled voice snapped at him. Harry realized that he had walked right into someone while in his own thoughts. He blinked and looked up. The man turned around, still muttering but stopped dead upon seeing who had bumped into him. “Do you know who- Oh, it’s you.” Malfoy rolled his eyes and readjusted his black coat, looking away from him.
“Never mind, then. You’re clearly allowed to walk into who so ever you choose.” He picked up a very long package that he had apparently dropped.

“Maybe you shouldn’t stand in the middle of the hallway, Malfoy,” Harry shot back, somewhat disgruntled. “What are you doing here, anyway?” He eyed the package and felt a familiar urge to know the contents. There was no good reason for him to search the man, however. There hadn’t been a good reason in over nineteen years. Now, however, Harry wanted to know. He almost wished that Malfoy was back to his old tricks and doing something dastardly and stupid. Almost.
But they were in the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Not the Department of Mysteries. Furthermore, Malfoy was a Quidditch star now –something Harry had never managed to get his head around. The box could contain anything at all related to the game. Probably a broomstick.

“Want a look see, Potter?” Malfoy asked, a wolfish grin on his face, having noticed Harry looking at the parcel. Harry blinked at him.

“You’re going to show me what you’ve got?” Harry asked. He was always a little slow in the morning. Malfoy smirked at him and Harry relaxed. That smirk was familiar and Harry was glad for it.

“No,” he answered. “But I know you want to see it.” He shifted the package to hold it better. “You’ll find out soon enough, anyway, Potter.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Harry shot, ignoring the taunt. He stood taller, holding his head straight to impress upon the man how serious he was. “What are you doing here?”

There was no good reason for Malfoy to answer the question. He was a Quidditch player. This was the headquarters of the International British and Irish League. There were thousands of reasons he could be here. In fact, he had more right to be there than Harry. Still, Harry stood his ground.

“Selling the last of my dark artifacts,” Draco snapped, rolling his eyes. “What do you think I’m doing here, Potter?” Then he considered Harry, eyeing his Auror’s robes. “Why are you here, for that matter? Still stalking me? Or did you just miss the old days?”

Harry’s eyes widened very slightly. Malfoy was giving him a piercing glare but something was different. Harry knew that Malfoy had been different after the war, but he had expected him to bounce back. He had expected Malfoy to find a way to retrieve his status and go on boasting to the universe. He sounded like he did, anyway. But Harry saw something in his former-rival’s eyes that scared him. There were shadows there, a darkness that was shifting in shape and nature. There was a longing for another time.

Harry realized that Malfoy wanted to go back to the way things were before Voldemort returned, before the war, just as much as he did. Harry was ashamed to admit it to himself.

“I can go where I want, Malfoy,” Harry said smoothly. “I didn’t know you were here and, frankly, I don’t care.”

Malfoy’s eyes changed and he sucked his cheeks in slightly, a scowl drawing itself on his face. He pushed past Harry.

“Of course not,” he muttered as he passed, making his way down the hall towards the lifts. Harry watched him go, feeling the familiar tug of frustration in his muscles.

He didn’t know why, even after all these years, he couldn’t have a civil conversation with the man. He didn’t know why Malfoy still irked him so. He wished he could say that he hadn’t thought about the blonde in nineteen years but he couldn’t. The truth was that Harry thought about Malfoy nearly every day… one way or another.

For years, while he fought Death Eaters and captured them, he heard the name screamed and thrown about. He had been forced to revisit Malfoy Manor on a number of occasions, but at the time the Malfoys weren’t living there. He had received tips and letters from various anonymous witches and wizards, warning him that Malfoy should be watched closely, that the whole family was up to something. He had been forced to deal with the repercussions of Dark Artifacts that Lucius Malfoy had sold before the end of the war, and clean up after the mess. Then there were the trials…

That and add together the fact that the headlines in the Prophet tended to document the Quidditch star’s every move and that James and Albus were constantly following every Quidditch match they could, Harry never stopped hearing about Malfoy.
He leaned against the wall and relaxed his back muscles. He needed to stop thinking about the stupid git and move on with life. He needed to stop caring.

Harry decided to go back to his desk. Even if there was nothing more than paperwork to be done, at least he could distract himself for a bit from the fact that what Malfoy had said irked him.

+++++
Draco stood in front of his locker, his red and green shirt in hand. He was half-dressed in his Quidditch uniform when he suddenly found he couldn’t move. He stared determinately at the picture of Scorpius he had pasted just inside the door. His eyes slid in and out of focus as he felt the world move beneath him. He took a deep breath.

Nothing is moving. Everything is still.

“Malfoy!” He snapped out of it and turned to the changing room door. Oliver Wood, his team captain was calling impatiently. He leaned back against the doorway and shook his head. “Aren’t you ready yet? Practice started ten minutes ago!”

“I’ll be out in a minute, Wood,” Draco drawled. He pulled the shirt over his head and ran his fingers through his hair. “Just unwrapping my new broom.”

Wood’s expression shifted from aggravation to interest. He walked into the room and stood near Draco. He leaned in and put a hand on Draco’s shoulder in a show of camaraderie. Draco used the touch to ground himself.

“Well, let’s see it then,” Wood told him, excitedly gazing at the package. Draco smirked and picked it up. He ripped off the paper and the string and opened the box.

The broomstick inside was supposed to be gleaming, polished wood with hand-picked straws, honed and shaped to a point at the tip. The broom should have levitated on its own out of the box, feeling the presence of someone with Magic. It should have been the picture of perfect flight with its newly designed aerodynamic handle and light frame. It should have had the brilliant metallic ink baked into the wood proclaiming its make as a Firebolt 250 to the world.

But it was not.

Instead, the broomstick inside the box was worn and used. The handle did not gleam, and was rather splintered. The straws were stuck out at odd ends and the faded mark of a Comet was just visible through the splinters. Draco’s jaw dropped.

“What the –?” Wood sputtered. He picked up the broom and let it drop in midair. It should have dropped slightly and then floated but the wood just clattered to the ground. “What is this? Are they mad? Is this a joke?? Didn’t the Ministry actually check the broom??”

Draco sighed and shook his head, his jaw tight with anger. He turned around and picked up the broom. Given the state it was in, it wouldn’t have even sufficed for sweeping. He glared at the wood, his blood pumping fast and hard through him.

“Malfoy, mate,” Wood said, finally, collecting himself. “I’m going to send an owl to the shop right away and have them send you another one for tomorrow. This is ridiculous.” Wood squeezed his shoulder before walking out. “A bloody international Quidditch player and they send him a fucking worthless broomstick.” His voice faded as he left, apparently to send an owl. Draco was staring at the broom, still.

He looked up at the empty room and felt the shadows move. He sensed the world crumbling and he flung the broom, with all his might, across the changing room. It hit the lockers on the opposite wall with such force that it splintered on impact and fell to the ground in tiny pieces.

Draco was seething. He turned back to his locker, picked up his old Firebolt and left the change rooms, slamming his locker closed behind him.

This is getting out of hand…
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A/N: Please review and let me know what you think so I can know whether or not to keep uploading. I promise there will be much smut and slash in here, but it will also be somewhat darker than my usual fics, I think. All will be explained in due course. I hope you enjoyed it!