Draco Malfoy and His Happily Ever After:
Author's Notes: This is the sequel to Draco Malfoy and His Unknown Fate which I recommend that you read before starting this. This is a Harry/Draco story.
Warnings for this chapter: There's a swear word or two in here.
Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to J.K. Rowling. I'm merely borrowing them for the time being. This is slash. Don't like it? Don't read it. Otherwise, enjoy.
Little Whining was an odd place. All the houses were painfully identical, with their perfectly manicured lawns and bland brickwork. Draco felt his neck itch with the wrongness of it all. This little slice of middle class muggle suburbia was not for him and Vernon Dursley, who was squinting at him suspiciously with narrowed eyes in the review mirror, knew it.
Harry was quiet as they turned onto Privet Drive, his eyes almost vacant as he stared out the window. As soon as the car pulled into the driveway, Draco hopped out as quickly as possible and gathered his things, trudging along after Dursley into #4. The house was even more bland than its neighbors if that was even possible, a monument to conformity that made Draco's lip curl with a sneer. "Don't dawdle! Get inside, hurry." Dursley admonished them, peering around as if at any moment the neighbors would pop out of the bushes to denounce the two boys as freaks. Draco was ushered into the house quickly along with Harry who had a sort of resigned expression on his face.
"So, this is a muggle house is it?" Draco asked, craning his neck to get a good look around. There were lots of doodads and thingamabobs, many of which Draco could not discern a purpose for. Pictures of a porky boy were hung all over the house. It was enough to turn one's stomach. "Who's the whale?"
Dursley whirled around and Harry stifled a snicker with his sleeve. "That is my son Dudley. He's not fat, he's muscular!" Draco didn't even bother to reply to that glaring falsehood. If Dursley wanted to delude himself the Slytherin certainly wasn't going to interfere. "And you better not pull any funny business around him if you know what's good for you."
"I'll do whatever I damn well please." Draco drawled, dropping his bags in the foyer. "And unless you want to end up transfigured into a walrus I would advise against telling me what to do."
"Ha! You can't fool me, boy! I know you can't do any of that - that weird stuff over the summer, so don't even try it!"
Draco smirked, ignoring Harry's groan. The Gryffindor, at least, understood that fact that one never challenged a Malfoy unless they were prepared for the consequences. "Really? Wingardium Leviosa!"
"Uh - ah - oh! Help! Petunia!" The overweight muggle kicked his feet helplessly as he rose in the air. Draco floated him upwards, his wand clasped loosely in his aristocratic hand directing Harry's uncle even higher. "Petunia!" Dursley bellowed, his face flushing red with shame and anger.
Harry laughed despite himself. The Gryffindor laughed so hard in fact he had to double over and fold his arms over his stomach. "Vernon!" Cried a strident voice and then a woman with a neck that was far too long for her body scurried over. "What's going on here?!"
"Finite Incantatum." Dursley hit the ground with a solid thump. "Nothing at all. I was just demonstrating to your husband that while Harry can't do magic over the summer, I can." Petunia Dursley paled and helped her spluttering husband to his feet.
"You think that's funny do you? You could've broken his back!" She said shrilly, clutching Vernon as if he could protect her from their newest house guest. The Slytherin shifted his grip on his wand and both muggles flinched.
"If he'd gotten hurt I could have healed it." Draco said complacently. After all, he'd seen Quidditch players fall off their brooms from more than twenty feet in the air and walk right off the pitch with nary a limp. A few feet were nothing in comparison. He turned with arrogant poise, ignoring the two muggles with ease. "Where's your room, Harry?"
Harry blinked for a moment, but replied quickly enough. He was obviously eager to remove himself from his aunt and uncle's presence. "Upstairs. Down the hall, the farthest room on the right."
"Let's get settled in then, shall we?" Another Levitation charm on their trunks and they were on their way, thumping up the stairs and leaving Vernon and Petunia to stare after them in dismay. It was, Draco decided, a very small house indeed. He was used to rooms with cathedral ceilings and sprawling architecture that stretched out so far you could walk until your legs ached and still not have reached the exit. Harry's room was cramped, but Draco supposed one could call it cozy if they were so inclined.
The Slytherin set their things in a corner and paused to take in the room. Yes, it was tiny and somewhat messy, but it also had Harry's personality stamped all over it. There was a Gryffindor banner from a Quidditch match pinned on the wall as well as a poster of Oliver Wood. The furniture was worn, but serviceable and the bed was pushed up against the wall so that whoever slept in it would be protected from two of the four sides. There was an iron lattice on the window, though it had a clasp to open it, but there were signs that at one time it had been barred shut.
"So, this is the great Harry Potter's room." Draco mused, absently kicking the door shut behind them. "Leave it to those muggles to give you the smallest room in the house." He said with a scowl, tossing himself on the bed and sprawling out comfortably as if it was his own. Harry began unpacking and looked over his shoulder briefly to reply.
"It's better than the cupboard under the stairs at least. Ten years in there is enough for anyone, really. I'm rather happy with Dudley's second bedroom, actually. There aren't any spiders in here."
"A cupboard? Spiders?" Draco sat up, aghast. "They put the Boy Who Lived in a cupboard? Those savages! How could they do that?! You're - you're the darling of the wizarding world! How dare they treat you like some misbehaving house elf?" Two years ago Draco would have been delighted to learn about Harry's awful childhood, but now he was merely indignant, angry, and sickened at the thought Harry had been so mistreated by his own family.
"I don't know. But they did. Don't worry too much about it. I'm not in there anymore, am I?"
"Well, no. But now I'm sorry I just didn't hex them both off the bat." Draco sulked, wiggling around so he could perch his chin on his hands and watch Harry fill the drawers of his dresser with his carefully folded clothes. The Gryffindor methodically put his things away, tucking everything into it's place. He even went so far as to start on Draco's clothes, obviously aware of the fact the Slytherin usually depended on house elves to do such things for him. Or maybe he was just being nice, who knew? There was a comfortable silence between them, broken only be the sound of a passing car.
With a last scrape of a shutting drawer, Harry finished his appointed task and joined Draco on the bed, curling around him comfortably. The dark haired boy buried his face against Draco's neck and inhaled his scent. Harry's nose nudged his neck and he wrapped one arm over Draco's side and pulling him against his own body with a sigh. "Tired?" Draco asked, basking in the body warmth that poured off the Gryffindor as well as the affection.
"A little. How about you?"
"I'm exhausted." Draco said theatrically, pressing his hand to his forehead and miming a faint.
Harry snickered and his breath tickled Draco who squirmed for a moment before settling back down in the other boy's embrace. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." Draco said playfully, leaning back against Harry's chest.
"We should rest then." The dark haired boy said with a yawn. Draco intertwined his fingers with Harry's, their joined hands resting against his chest . With a sigh of contentment, he let himself drift to sleep. His lover's breath lulled him into pleasant dreams.
Three hours later an ear shattering screech rent the air, sending Draco and Harry tumbling to the floor in a painful mesh of flailing limbs. "You two get down here for dinner!"
"Oomph." Draco ended up with an elbow to the gut and he floundered briefly, nailing Harry in the balls with his knee.
"Oh, fuck. Ouch." Harry grit out, his hand pressed firmly over his crotch. Draco was holding his gut, rubbing at what was sure to be a bruise come morning. "Oh god, that hurts." Harry blinked tears out of the corner of his eyes and Draco winced in sympathy.
He searched around for his wand and cast a quick healing spell, patting the Gryffindor's crotch in an apologetic manner afterwards. "Alright there, Harry?"
"Dinner!" The shrill call came again.
"Alright. But you might want to stop petting me now or I'll have some trouble explaining why I'm so excited to Aunt Petunia." Harry said wryly, fixing his glasses which had gone askew during their tumble.
Draco snickered and removed his hand after a last stroke. "If I must."
"C'mon." Harry said, pulling Draco to his feet. "We better get down there before Dudley eats our all food. It wouldn't be the first time either."
They pounded down the stairs quickly, intent on joining the Dursleys in the kitchen. When they got there, Vernon glared at them and Petunia sniffed disdainfully. Dudley was shoveling food into his mouth, splattering bits of sauce and vegetable all over himself. Draco flicked a stray bit of broccoli away from his plate and took his seat, ignoring Dudley's loud belch. He glanced towards Harry who was attempting to steal the platter of steaks out from under Dudley's elbow to no avail.
Draco had the feeling the next two weeks were going to go by very slowly.
To Be Continued…
Constructive criticism and comments are more than welcome.