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Repentance
- SuishouTenshi
Written for Ahja Reyn as a birthday/thank-you/just-because-I-feel-like-it present.
Summary: Set in Ahja Reyn’s HPCoF universe. Harry and Draco’s fight lasts too long to be normal. With both sides refusing to apologize and past memories haunting Draco, just who’s wrong and who’s right?
Inside the lower right drawer of Draco Malfoy-Potter’s writing desk within the Potter ancestral home at Godric Hollow, hidden behind tell-tale stacks of official records and pinched inconspicuously between yellowing pages of an outdated third-year Divinations textbook was a parchment of utmost importance. It was a list of names, composed and edited throughout the years, each stroke attained through bone-deep hatred.
The first name, Tom Riddle, had been crossed out by one austere line of Avada Kedavra green. Second, Bellatrix Lestrange, was barely visible underneath repeated strikes of anger and relief. It continued like so, names of those who hurt Draco, those who were — are — unforgivable, those who caused Harry Malfoy-Potter to shed tears of which his husband never wanted to see... ever again.
Most of those people — monsters — were gone by now, demolished by truth, justice, and a flick of Harry’s holly wood wand 1. A small portion remained untouched, their deeds undiscovered, sins untried. On the bottom of the list, written in Draco’s perfect script, the Dursley name stood undisturbed. And on this Friday night, a mere two days after Valentine’s Day, Draco added one more name with trembling hands.
The ugly jagged contours of Cho Chang’s name seemed to pulsate vaguely; black ink on beige parchment carried the full burden of Draco Malfoy-Potter’s pride, jealousy, resentment, and a long-harbored fear that could not be put into words.
Draco made his way down to the family room at last. Lief and the twins still needed to be fed. Harry was never an uncaring father, but tonight’s debacle had made both of them lose their sensitivities. By the time Draco had registered his three ten-year-olds’ presence, Harry had already flooed back to his room in Hogwarts, unlikely to return any time soon.
Thankfully, the hurtful words they exchanged not only attracted the kids’, but also Dobby’s attention. As Draco dragged himself downstairs — fingers still trembling and knees still wobbling — he made sure to force his scowl into an impassive frown, only to have his efforts crushed by a natural sigh when he stepped on strawberry ice-cream. He’d have to tell Dobby again to be careful of what the “little masters” order for dinner.
Jasmine and Rose passed him with fancily designed china of the colors lavender and pink in hand, respectively filled with strawberry and chocolate ice-cream. Rose carried an extra bowl and delivered it to a quietly moping Lief who was sitting in the center of the carpeted room; a flood of melting ice-cream surrounded him like a moat.
Jasmine put her bowl down like the perfect little lady and went to stand before her father.
“Father, when you and Daddy get a divorce, who will we belong to?” Jasmine asked a certifiably shocked Draco in all seriousness.
“I say Daddy,” Rose came along and cut in before Draco could reply. “He is Harry Potter. Father, will you pay alimony?”
Draco blinked. He didn’t think Rose knew the word “alimony”, much less use it correctly in a sentence.
“But Rose,” Jasmine rolled her eyes, “Grandpapa will never let Daddy take all of us. I say half and half, and Grandpapa always liked boys better.”
“Rose and Jasmine Potter,” Rose shrugged. “It’s not so bad, I guess.”
Draco opened his mouth at last, but his words were interrupted by a frantic tug at his sleeve. He looked down and saw little Lief looking at him with watery, pleading eyes.
“Father, are you and Daddy really getting a divorce? I like being Lief Malfoy-Potter. And I don’t mind it when Jasmine and Rose make fun of me, so don’t separate us, please!”
Draco picked up Lief and summoned Dobby to clean up the mess. “First of all, your dad and I are not getting a divorce.” Draco found his mouth impeccably dry at that word, the mere thought of losing the wedding band around his ring finger caused him to hold Lief ever tighter against him. “Your dad and I had an argument, like how you children fight with each other every day, but an argument doesn’t mean you will stop speaking to each other. Second, you three should know better than to eat ice-cream for dinner and make such a mess.”
“But Father,” Jasmine complained right away, “every clinically depressed woman that appears on Oprah says that she had gone through cartons of ice-cream during periods of life-altering trauma. 2”
“And we consider tonight’s trauma life-altering,” Rose joined in, her tone perfectly childish. “Of course, ingestion of so much ice-cream will inevitable cause health problems and the dreaded weight gain, but we’re only ten, so we don’t have to worry about that.”
“Besides,” jumped in Jasmine once again, “statistically speaking, a happy dose of cholesterol and fat will help speed up the process of puberty.”
Draco stared at his beautiful daughters, corrupted by the evils of muggle television. He turned to Lief and asked, “Did you understand anything your sisters just said?”
Lief’s eyes watered up again. “Sorry Father. You can have the girls, I’ll go with Daddy. You wouldn’t like me ‘cause I’m stupider.”
“For Merlin’s... I’m not... listen kids, your dad and I are just having a... timeout.”
“You’re not getting a divorce?” Jasmine asked in an almost disappointed tone of voice.
“You’re not going to fight over the position of the favorite parent of a separated family by giving us ridiculously expensive gifts on a regular basis?” Rose definitely sounded disappointed. And Draco saw it more clearly than ever that come September, their household was going ti have two more Slytherins.
He’d be proud if he weren’t in a state of numbing calmness.
“Look, your dad can be a bloody wanker at times with no sense of subtlety and/or delicacy,” Draco chose to ignore the simultaneous eye-roll from the twins, “but you should know by now that your dad belongs to... er, with me. Moreover, just because he was gushing over one laughable little gift on Valentine’s Day from the ex-girlfriend that he almost got married to and completely ignored that ridiculously expensive Wizard Armani ensemble I got for him, which if you asked any sensible husband, was so much classier than a stupid poisonous little snake with fucking blinking pink hearts for stripes, your dad is a thick-headed Gryffindor idiot!!!”
Lief squirmed a little within his hold. “Father, you’re hurting me.”
Rose looked over to her twin, “Jasmine, this must be serious. Father’s sentence fragments did not connect correctly.”
Jasmine nodded and returned to her father who was currently glaring at thin air with venomous silver eyes. “Father, I hope you realize that if Daddy was still here, he’d yell at you for using the ‘F’ word.”
“Oh, but Daddy isn’t here anymore, now is he?” Rose caught on quickly. “And whose fault is that?”
Draco’s glare was now on her. “I had to do it. You saw your dad, cooing over that indolent, slimy, pit-for-stomach little monster, speaking to it with their ‘special’ language, probably consulting with it how he’d leave me for that bitch Cho Chang.”
“Father, stop insulting the poor animal. And I mean the snake, not the Asian 3.”
“Not much of a difference there,” Draco growled.
“And Father, Daddy was just introducing the Runespoor to our family. He called you his most precious person, Jasmine and I heard him.”
“Me too,” Lief squeaked.
“Lief, you didn’t inherit Harry’s Parselmouth abilities.”
“No, but I wish I did, then I woulda told it to go away so you and Daddy wouldn’t have to get a divorce.”
“NO! We’re not getting a divorce! Everything is fine between us. Your dad will be back first thing tomorrow morning. Now, the three of you will utilize the various bathrooms around the house and then get into bed as soon as possible.”
“But Father, we’re still hungry,” Jasmine claimed with her little arms crossed over her chest.
“Yes Father, we hope you realize that ice-cream is in no way a balanced or filling meal,” Rose copied her sister, sending Draco twin reprimands.
“Dobby!” Draco all but howled, “feed the little monsters.”
He dropped Lief and fled from his frighteningly Slytherin daughters. Normally he could deal with their acute intelligence and astute tongues, but his mind wasn’t in it tonight. He was already losing in their little Slytherin spar of wits, and he had a feeling that if he stayed any longer, they would’ve found a way to get him to sign his will entirely over to themselves.
Besides, as much as he loathed it, he had an apology letter to write.
Gabe sent Nearly Headless Nick a wary glance as it floated by unaware of the Fourth-Year Gryffindor who was hiding under a cloak of dynastic roguish tradition. When he deemed the area safe at last, Gabe sped through the abandoned corridor and swiftly skipped down the moving staircase.
Mack was in the infirmary from a stray hex intended for Gabe. To thank his friend for kindly “shielding” him from the curse, Gabe had promised to bring him éclairs after midnight. Rama and Wolcott had flooed home earlier that afternoon, one reason was to stay away during their time of the month, and another was to spend a late Valentine ’s Day with Moony and Padfoot. (Although how three werewolves and one dog animagus would celebrate Valentine’s Day was anyone’s guess.)
So here Gabe was, hidden underneath his late grandfather’s legendary Invisibility Cloak in the dead of the night in chilly February weather and sorely missing the warmth that the other two Marauders usually provided, made his way toward the kitchens one step at a time.
He saw it just as he got to ground level — the fluttering of a familiar cloak across a cloudy night sky. Someone was having a late-night joyride over the Quidditch pitch, someone obviously on the Quidditch team judging by the gear they wore. The flier was beyond good, Gabe noted with awe, his maneuvers were reckless but beautifully professional. Forgetting Mack for the moment, Gabe let his feet be drawn to the magnificent player.
Gabe was sure whoever it was, he wasn’t a member on the Gryffindor team. Gabe had studied his own teammates well enough to tell. As he got closer and as the moon moved out from its hiding place behind the clouds, Gabe finally registered that uniform to be of Gryffindor color, and the number on the back — seven.
They didn’t make Gryffindor 7’s anymore. It had become a nearly mythical symbol of one of the greatest Seekers ever lived: Gabe’s very own father.
When Gabe arrived at the center of the pitch, he removed his cloak and the genius Seeker above noticed him immediately.
“Dad? What are you doing here on a Friday night?” Gabe asked quizzically. “Shouldn’t you be at home where father could do things to you that no child should ever know about concerning their parents?”
Harry dropped down on the dewy grass and took off his old fingerless gloves. “Your father and I had an argument.”
“What for? You couldn’t go back on Valentine’s Day or yesterday, but he said he wouldn’t get mad at that,” Gabe asked but really wasn’t worried. His fathers fought over the most childish things and always proceeded to make up like rabbits.
Harry motioned for Gabe to sit down and snatched the Invisibility Cloak from him to play with while he talked, a standard nervous gesture. “Why do you assume he’s mad at me? It’s the other way around this time.”
“Okay... what’d he do?”
“He called Magical Creatures Control and sent that Runespoor back to Africa while I was in the bath,” Harry grumbled.
Gave raised his brows in amusement. “That really tame one with pink hearts for stripes you got two days ago from that Chang lady?”
Harry nodded forlornly and Gabe tried to keep his snickers to himself. “But Dad, I told you to send the snake back to her, or at least keep it from Father. Bloody Hell, it’s from your ex-girlfriend, even I know not to show it to Father, and I’m like, fourteen.”
Harry scowled a rather impression imitation of Draco’s familiar expression of displeasure. “Watch your language, Gabe. And for your information, your father didn’t even know who it was from until the MCC came and told him the records. Bloody jealous git, it’s fucking February, the poor thing should be hibernating comfortably instead of being tossed back and forth between continents. What if all the portkeying make it sick? Bloody insensitive prick with no subtlety or delicacy... Don’t you dare grow up like your Father, you hear me, Gabe?”
Said son promptly ignore his dad’s choice of words and tugged the Invisibility Cloak away from angrily wringing hands. That last warning was also dismissed. Despite his looks, Gabe knew his personality was more like Draco’s than Harry’s, and it was already too late to change that fact.
“Look Dad, stop worrying, they got professionals to transport it back. And if you’d just mention it, Father will buy you an entire reptile house if you want.”
Harry scoffed. “He did, for our third anniversary. Bloody git, why in the world would I want a reservoir named after me?”
Gabe couldn’t suppress the scoff this time. He could somewhat recall that day. Harry had been ecstatic when Draco apparated their entire family to New Zealand right outside of the Continent of Australia Magical Reptile Reservoir, where a huge plaque was permanently nailed to the gates thanking the Malfoy-Potter family’s generous funds.
“And look at this!” Harry ripped out a crumbling piece of parchment from the folds of his old Quidditch gear. Gabe took it and read aloud,
My Dear Husband,
I realized upon your sudden departure that our silly little argument had obviously gotten out of hand. Let it not ruin our late Valentine’s celebration. Floo back as soon as you get this letter, the children miss you and as do I.
Love,
Draco Malfoy-Potter
P.S. I have contacted Mr. Camdon of the New Zealand reservoir. He said that several Runespoors are scheduled to hatch within the month. You can pick the most beautiful and intelligent newborn. Consider it a second gift from me, your loving husband.
Ouch. Gabe winced. Did his father forget to do a draft before writing this thing? Knowing Draco, this was probably just what he wanted to say, perhaps even tamer than what the haughty aristocrat originally meant. Even without seeing Harry’s expression, Gabe knew his dad’s anger would only be fueled by Draco’s insensitive and slightly impersonal request — no, demand — for Harry to go home.
But Draco’s callous response to Harry storming out could only mean one thing — he was not repentant at all. A truly sorry and panicking Draco, despite his outward appearances, would be groveling at this point. Gabe guessed this was what bothered Harry the most, Draco’s obvious lack of remorse.
“Okay, um, I get your point, Dad. But whatcha gonna do?”
Harry eyed Gabe from head to toe and finally regained his composure as savior of the wizarding world. “I’m going to do what I should’ve done since becoming the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, remain in this school full time in order to assist my students, not running off every weekend and holiday at your father’s whim. And first thing on my agenda is to get you back into bed before a professor or prefect catches you. Come on, son, off your feet.”
“Aw, but Dad, I need to get Mack éclairs, he took a hit for me.”
“You got into a fight? When?”
“Before dinner. But don’t worry, Professor McGonagall stopped it before I could fire back a shot, so only the Slytherins got detention,” Gabe reported proudly.
Harry sighed and pointed a punitive index finger toward the castle. “Go back to bed now, and you have detention with me tomorrow night.”
“Aw, but Dad...”
“Go! If you’re going to use the cloak, at least don’t get caught, not even by me! Five points from Gryffindor for being careless.”
Gabe rolled his eyes and sauntered back. Maybe Harry didn’t realize it, but he was definitely channeling Draco’s temper for a second there. He wished his father would send a more fitting apology letter next time and make up with his dad already, because serving detention with one’s own parent was without a doubt one of the most humiliating things ever.
“Mr. Malfoy-Potter, may I interest you in this beautiful...”
“I’ll take it.”
“Mr. Malfoy-Potter, and how about this magnificent...”
“I’ll take that too.”
“Mr. Malfoy, our store has recently received this one of a kind...”
“It’s Malfoy-Potter! And deliver it to this address.”
Dobby’s fingers were getting progressively exhausted as he zapped packages after packages to his master’s home while arranging for the other packages to be promptly delivered to one Mr. Harry James Malfoy-Potter of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The numerous shopkeepers of Diagon Alley were currently lined up outside of the jewelry shop they were in, all prepared to persuade Lord Draco Malfoy-Potter to bless their stores with his presence and galleons.
The news spread quickly and efficiently: Draco Malfoy-Potter was on a shopping spree.
Master Draco’s rules during these sorts of times were simple: The more expensive the better. He only wanted the best of the best, the rarest of the rare, the diamond of all gems. Aside from that, all clothing stores knew to keep Harry Malfoy-Potter’s measurements on record so adjustments could be made on the spot to whatever outfit Master Draco found pleasing. Jewelry shops knew the exact sizes of Master Harry’s ring, middle, and index fingers. Candy shops, big and small, had chocolate frogs stocked up to the ceiling. And so on, and so forth.
There were only two occasions when Master Draco would go on such an outrages shopping spree: Holidays or fights. Since Valentine’s Day just passed ten days ago and everyone knew the Malfoy-Potter anniversary wasn’t for another few months (you had to be a hermit not to know the date by heart), it only left the possibility of a fight.
But Dobby was thankful though, because this time there weren’t any dumb reporters pushing for an in-depth interview of the “royal family” struggle. After the last time, they all knew by now not to confront Master Draco at such moments unless absolutely necessary... or unless you’re trying to sell him something pretty.
Dobby zapped another two packages home and waited patiently for Master Draco to tire.
“Father,” Jasmine looked up from the muggle television as soon as Draco and Dobby came home, “we’re hungry.”
Draco glared at the packages littered all over the family room and muttered, “I just spent our entire family fortune on gifts for your stubborn dad. Go cry to him if you’re hungry.” It was an obvious lie; he couldn’t spend so much money if he tried. But Draco was frustrated and tired. It had been over a week, and Harry not only did not come back, he even went as far as sending back everything Draco bought for him. He’d take out his anger on his little girls at the moment. They were potential Slytherins; they could handle it.
As he expected, Jasmine grabbed Rose’s hand and dragged her to where Lief was quietly reading by the window.
“Did you hear that, Lief? We are now poor.”
“Poor?” Startled grey eyes looked up searchingly.
“Yes, Father sold everything for Daddy’s sake. We have to live on the streets now.” That was Rose.
“Start practicing this, Lief,” Jasmine said quite seriously, “say it with me: ‘Please Sir, may I have some ’ore?’ 4”
Still standing by the fireplace, Draco suddenly wanted to laugh.
“ Ore?” Lief repeated with hesitancy. “But our boats run on magic, we don’t need ores. And they’re all in the Mediterranean, Daddy told me so.”
“Yes, well, I sold those too and bought your dad a ring.” Draco couldn’t help himself.
Dobby appeared with a ‘pop’ and announced that dinner was served.
“Come, pets, let’s enjoy our last dinner.” Draco approached them and picked up Lief. At ten, Lief was still extremely small, but Draco’s attachment to his youngest son had nothing to do with lack of strength or favoritism.
It was because at that moment, the frightened and nervous expression in Lief’s odd eyes reminded Draco of an eleven-year-old Harry Potter all too well.
That settled it. It was time to grovel.
Harry abandoned his seat in the Great Hall during dinner that night. He was sick of his students constantly staring at him while owl after owl flew in with packages of every size and color in their claws and beaks. He treaded down to the kitchens for his meal, knowing that no owls could reach him there.
Dinner was unusually quiet. Harry unconsciously sent off an aura of irritation which scared off the elves. The little creatures worked around him, scampering here and there and occasionally refilled his cup from afar.
When he was almost done, the entrance portrait suddenly opened and his son, “nephew”, and “cousin” walked in with the Marauder’s Map in hand.
“Found ya, Dad,” Gabe quipped proudly as he waved the map around. “Mind if we join you?”
Harry smiled. “Of course not, have a seat. The three of you didn’t eat?”
“No, we ate,” said Mack as he buttered up a piece of bread. Like Ron, Mack had a seemingly bottomless stomach. “Uncle Draco sent Gabe a letter with instructions to give it to you.”
Harry’s head immediately connected with the table.
“Don’t worry, Professor,” Rama was smirking, “no gifts came with it. Just a letter. So, will paradise be paradise once again?”
Harry flushed and snatched the letter from Gabe’s fingers. “Don’t you kids have homework to do?”
“Dad, it’s Saturday, give us a break.”
“What does it say, Uncle Harry?”
“I swear... you would think that after saving the world and three years of being your professor, the three of you would fear me just a bit.”
“But you’re my dad and used to change my diapers.”
“But you’re my dad’s best mate and used to change my diapers.”
“But you’re my dad’s best mate’s son and I have pictures of you in diapers.”
All three faces turned to look at Rama Lupin, Harry’s was particularly queasy.
Rama shrugged and pointed toward the letter. “C’mon, let’s hear your husband’s desperate pleas.”
Harry sighed and scanned the letter before he crumbled it into a ball and tossing it to the far corner of the kitchen with disgust and stormed out, leaving the three Third-Years to stare at each other, completely lost.
That is, until Rama spoke up, “Wait, Gabe, weren’t you separated from your dad until you were like four? Just for how long were you in diapers?”
Gabe was crimson. “Shut up.”
Still unbelievably red, Gabe scurried over and unraveled the note. He skimmed over it and soon fell onto the floor with a groan of frustration.
“That bad?”
Gabe nodded. “My Father can be such an idiot sometimes. When is he gonna learn that flattery doesn’t affect Dad at all when he’s pissed?”
Rama, after reading the note, snorted and fell into a spread-eagle position next to Gabe. “And someone’s got to teach him that sex jokes are not appreciated when a couple’s fighting.”
Mack’s eyebrows became squinted and he placed his right hand on his chin to stroke a nonexistent beard. “Ah, yea, I can feel it.”
“Feel what? Gas?”
“No!” Mack’s voice cracked a bit. “I mean I can feel my little grey cells working to solve this mystery.”
“What mystery?”
Mack rolled his eyes and began to pace. “Don’t you see it? This is Uncle Draco we’re talking about here, the same wizard who can sweet-talk a man back from the dead.”
“He did, I think,” Gabe smirked, “told me he was an integral member of the team that rescued Padfoot.”
“Exactly! And c’mon, who in this world knows Uncle Harry better than Uncle Draco? The two are practically attached at the hip.”
Gabe groaned while Rama chuckled. “Urgh, please, Mack, the image.”
“Whatever. I’m just saying, how could Uncle Draco not know this letter would definitely piss off Uncle Harry even more?”
“So... you’re saying my father knew he was being an idiot, but went ahead and did an idiotic thing anyway? But why?”
“Sorry Gabe, Mack “Hercule” Weasley’s deductions stop here 5.”
Gabe blinked. “I thought your middle name was ‘Bill’.”
“Oh for... I’m going back to the dorms, you uncultured swine.”
After Mack left, Rama rose up to lean on one elbow and said to Gabe, “So, what are your battle plans?”
“What battle plans? Why should I be involved? My fathers are always like this. Don’t worry, give them a few days, and I bet Dad will come to work with a limp. Wouldn’t kill them to be a bit discrete though, bloody embarrassing...”
“Okay, if you’re sure.”
“Yeah, I’m sure. I don’t need to be involved in my parents’ love life.”
Eight Days Later...
“Fucking Merlin’s beard, Rama, I need to be involved in my parents’ love life!” Gabe hissed as he and Mack pulled Rama into a hidden alcove.
Rama laughed. “Is this about what happened at breakfast? Bloody hilarious, if you ask me.”
“Hilarious? Hilarious?!”
Rama shrugged. “Dumbledore certainly seemed to think so.”
“That’s because Dumbledore didn’t have one of his parents who happened to be his very own teacher receive a howler from his other parent detailing to every single Hogwarts student their fight while he sat in the audience completely mortified!”
Rama turned to Mack. “C’mon, didn’t you think it was funny?”
Mack shrugged and forced his facial expression to stay firm.
“This has gone on long enough!” Gabe declared. “Father, although really stupid in his ways, has been sending Dad gifts and then letters almost nonstop, but my Dad hasn’t responded at all. Why is Dad being like this? Can’t he see that Father’s already over the groveling stage and is really, really mad now?”
“If he didn’t before, he definitely does after that Howler.” Rama laughed some more. “I’m telling you, hearing someone call the greatest hero of our time a ‘boneless little coward with fear of confrontation’ is just too precious for words.”
“Then kindly shut up. If you’re not going to help me, Rama, screw you!”
“All right, all right, calm down. I’m not sure we can do much to help two adults with their love life though.”
Mack murmured something that sounded like a sarcastic “Yeah right, ‘adults’.”
Gabe threw up his hands and cursed the ceiling. “I’m not asking for much, I just want Dad to hear Father out. I mean, they haven’t seen each other in weeks, maybe when their eyes meet they’ll forget everything they fought about.”
“What are you, a six-year-old girl?” Mack scoffed.
Rama chuckled. “And that’s not gonna happen anytime soon. Your dad warded the school grounds, including all fireplaces, pipes, and airspace against your father’s magical signature. I saw him doing it the other night.”
“Whoa, can Uncle Harry do that?”
Gabe growled. “Of course he can. He’s bloody Harry Potter. Okay, so if Father can’t get in, Dad will have to go back home willingly... or else.”
“Gabe, there’s no way the three of us can successfully kidnap and transport Harry Potter, just so you know,” said Mack.
Rama smiled. “No, Mack, I think Gabe’s onto something here. My dear Gabe, what is there at your home — aside from your Father in a tutu — that would interest Harry enough that he’d go home of his own accord?”
Gabe’s and Mack’s eyes widened simultaneously.
Rama’s smile tilted into a smirk. “And here, gentlemen, is where you say, ‘ Eureka’.”
Harry hated travel by floo, had hated it since the beginning of his second year at Hogwarts. But currently, it was the fastest way home, the fastest way to his youngest son.
“Lief! Lief, are you all right?” Harry stormed out the fireplace and darted straight upstairs for Lief’s bedroom, only to find it empty.
“For Salazar’s sake, who just...”
Harry turned around and was met with Draco’s utterly shocked visage and a head of mussed up platinum tresses.
“Harry?” Draco’s tone wasn’t exactly one of delight.
“Draco, where’s Lief? Is he in Mungo’s already?” Forgetting their fight, Harry could only send his husband his most anxious expression.
“Lief’s with Molly, as are the twins,” Draco pronounced slowly. “Did something happen I should know about?”
Now it was Harry’s turn to be surprised. “What about your letter, the one where you said Lief fell down the stairs and is unconscious.”
Draco scoffed. “I never sent anything like that.”
“Only those with Malfoy blood can write on Malfoy stationary, Draco, I know that much at least. And I’ll have you know when Gabe handed me that letter, I was...” Green eyes widened in apprehension.
Draco rolled his eyes and muttered quite loudly, “Bloody impulsive Gryffindor, never one to think things through, are you?”
Harry could only glare back.
“Nice seeing you after so long, Potter. I’ve heard of people who are married to their jobs, but it was great to know I married one. Hope I at least made you proud at the way I handled the kids and their frequent questions concerning our shaky marital status.”
Harry hated Draco’s calmness. He wished Draco would yell, like normal people would do when their spouses ignore them for three weeks. But he also knew Draco was proud, too proud to sink to that level... just yet.
“But it seems like our oldest can’t wait anymore,” Draco continued, “and he obviously lured you here so we could talk. So talk, Harry, I’m pretty sure we have loads to say to each other.”
“Talk?” Harry could feel his own anger rising. “Now you want to talk? Now you want my opinions all of a sudden, want to hear my explanations that you blatantly passed off three weeks ago?”
“I also gave you the rest of those three weeks to explain to me the reasons that I didn’t hear the first time, three weeks with absolutely no word from you at all.” Draco began to tick off numbers using his fingers. “Three weeks, I bought you gifts, I sent you heart-felt letters, I pleaded, I begged, and I was even frustrated enough to send you a Howler, of which you still did not deem important enough to respond to. I even tried to get into Hogwarts a few times to see you personally! Do you know how much it hurts my head to be blocked by wards? What do you want from me, Harry, for me to get that bloody snake back?!”
“What I want is one simple and sincere word of apology.”
Draco scowled and turned away. “I’ll never apology.”
“Why the hell not? Setting aside the snake for a second, do you even realized that you called Magical Creatures Control while I was in the bath? You showed no expression whatsoever when I showed you the snake, but as soon as my back was turned you shipped it back to Africa. You didn’t even consult me, and it was my gift. I thought we were in an equal relationship.”
“Exactly, ‘relationship’, we’re in a relationship, so there’s no bloody reason for you to be bringing back Valentine’s Day gifts from ex-girlfriends. And you even deliberately hid it from me and lied to me, saying it was from some old lady in Berlin.” Draco’s voice was growingly unsteady, and Harry could see the walls of composure crumbling 6.
“Because I knew you’d be mad! And I really liked that snake; it was really polite and needed someone to take care of it. Besides, you called MCC before finding how it was from Cho. I don’t understand how you can be jealous of an old lady.”
Draco finally turned around again, and his face was contorted with a mix of rage and... fear?
“Because I knew it wasn’t from an old lady! The last time I went up I told Creevey’s brat to send me some pictures of my family as they receive my Valentine’s Day presents.” Draco stopped talking and marched out, making Harry follow him into his study. Draco dug through his top drawer until he drew out a stack of black and white pictures. He threw two at Harry who caught them with honed Seeker hands.
The first was a close-up shot of Harry after opening the box containing Wizard Armani dress robes. Creevey Jr.’s shot captured the warm smile on Harry’s countenance. On the bottom right corner was written, “Harry Malfoy-Potter opening Draco Malfoy-Potter’s V-Day present.”
The second picture was also a close-up. This time, instead of a warm smile, Harry’s face was lit up with complete joy and adoration. Underneath his nose were the protruding three heads of a Runespoor. At the same location as on the last picture was written, “Harry Malfoy-Potter opening Cho Chang’s V-Day present.”
“There are so much more,” Draco indicated the rest of the pile, “and that was okay because I know how much everyone adore you. But your smile was the brightest when you saw that Runespoor. I received those pictures that Friday morning and waited the whole day for you to come back and explain and tell me it was a present and meant nothing else. And all I received was a pathetic lie.”
“Draco...” Harry’s ember of anger had died out, gone without a trace of its existence. The guilt was beginning to pile on, fanned to its pinnacle by Draco’s ever composed tone.
“You know how much I feel about Chang. So I didn’t apologize, and I never will apologize for exiling anything related to her from our home. I was angry at you though, because I really believed you were at fault. And I forgave you, because the twins were plotting and Lief was crying and I wrote to you that same night, still angry but willing to let it go. Just... fuck, Harry... fuck you.”
Harry abridged the distance between them and quickly engulfed Draco into his arms. “Shit, Draco, I didn’t... God, I’m such an idiot.”
Draco shrugged calmly. “I’ve tried telling you that since we were eleven.” Neither laughed.
“So, Harry, I’m done talking, it’s your turn. Why were you so mad anyway? Normally you would at least yell at me, not ignore my existence for three weeks.”
“I don’t really know,” Harry murmured while he breathed in Draco’s cologne, realizing after so long just how much he missed the scent. “There were just so much I needed to work out inside my own head, and I thought if I saw you I’d get mad and punch your lights out.”
“Domestic abuse? That’s not like you.”
Harry stroked Draco’s rumpled hair, absentmindedly wondering why it was not in its usually immaculate state. “It just... I used to love it when you get jealous, even the slightest bit, because I thought it was cute and amusing. But with the stress at work and the entire world watching out for my every move, I just wanted the one person I love to trust me not to fail. Cho’s my past, and you’re my everything. Half of me hated you for putting yourself down when you compare yourself to her, and the other half hated you for not trusting me to love you and you only.”
Draco let the silence wash over them and only spoke when Harry’s arms tightened around his waist.
“Unusually articulate for you, love. But I hope you realize I would never get jealous over a real old lady from Berlin; that would just be pathetic.”
Harry chuckled lightly and snaked a hand under Draco’s shirt, “Duly noted. And I’m surprised at how much you’ve matured, Draco, at the way you’re handling this right now.”
“Don’t get used to it. I’m utterly exhausted with dealing with you and the kids that I can’t even yell at you properly today. Just wait, after I get my sleep and sex your office will be swarmed with Howlers.”
“Dear god, more? Gabe’s humiliated enough. I’m humiliated enough.”
“Well, both of you need to be punished still. You for... everything, and Gabe for forging my handwriting.”
“Can’t wait.” Harry drew back at for the first time and took in the dark circles under Draco’s eyes. “You’re really tired, aren’t you?”
Draco yawned. “My supervisor kicked me home today and told me not to come back until I can function properly. The twins were playing ‘dress up Lief like an American cowgirl’ again and I really couldn’t deal with that, so I sent them off to Molly. By Salazar, Harry, just thinking about what I had to go through the last three weeks makes me want to pound you into the wall.”
Harry drew him close again and kissed familiar lips. “I have to teach a class in twenty minutes and two detentions to supervise tonight. But I’ll be back after ten and I’ll let you pound me however you want. I’ll owl Molly and ask her if she could take care of the kids for the night, and you just rest up and save your energy for tonight, all right?”
Draco sighed and wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck. “I like it when you take care of things. But that doesn’t mean I’m no longer mad at you, I’m only going along with your plan because I haven’t gotten laid in three weeks.”
Silver eyes finally gave in to exhaustion and closed involuntarily. Harry lifted his husband up and took him to their bedroom. After checking everything was fine, Harry left quietly through the fireplace. He still had people to owl, son to scold, students to educate, wards to take down, and gifts to buy for a husband that he owed so, so much.
Tucked securely behind that list was a Daily Prophet clipping from several years ago, from those long nights when Draco suffered with no comfort or love except that from his first son. The bold title flashed gaily and read, “Cannon Seeker Harry Potter Takes Home the Gold, Daily Prophet Exclusive with Girlfriend Cho Chang — Are Wedding Bells in the Near Distance?”
In the picture right underneath, ironically taken by Colin Creevey, Cho Chang had Harry’s right arm in a death grip. Next to her, surrounded by thousands of fans and supporters but devoid of the true love of his life, Harry smiled at the camera shyly.
Draco smirked at the picture and placed it back with the book. He was nearly hopeless before he saw that particular picture, but when that morning’s Prophet delivery came, Draco’s heart was relieved for the first time in four years.
In those eyes that usually glistened with confidence, Draco noticed a trickle of insecurity, not out of shyness, but out of confusion and a curiosity for the unknown. It was then he knew that Harry was beginning to question, to fight the memory modifications placed on him for his own sanity. And no matter how much Cho Chang talked of marriage or forever after, Draco knew from that point on, the father of his child was coming back to him.
Draco’s entire body shook as he made his way back to the bed he shared with his husband for life. Harry had come back, time and time again, but Draco also knew he would leave, time and time again. He still needed to seek reassurance within his children, within the four physical embodiments of Harry’s love for him. And time and time again, while he waited with bated breath and unshed tears, he would hold on to those four miracles that kept him from losing faith.
Footnotes:
1. Sorry, heh, couldn’t help myself there. I just watched Superman Return the other day, so it stuck. Oh, and I don’t own Superman (wish I did though).
2. Not exactly true, heh. And I don’t own Oprah (O.O Is it even possible for me to own her?).
3. Draco and his daughters are not prejudiced against Asians, they just don’t like Cho. And I can’t be flamed for insulting Cho, who is an Asian, because I’m Asian meself, hah!
4. Haha, sorry, I couldn’t help myself again. And I don’t own Oliver Twist.
5. Kudos to those who understand the “little grey cells” joke and Mack’s made-up middle name without looking it up.
6. God, “ Berlin”, “wall”, “crumbling”, haha, can you see how much fun I had with this?
End
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