Chapter 4
That had been a long day. One Draco would look back on with a sad sort of kindness, in light of his younger self in so much distress for Harry. But Draco went through a lot of pain, that year.
After Hogwarts (he had passed all of his newts with Es and Os, thank Salazar) Draco want back to live in the manor. He could have moved away if he had really wanted to, but his mother needed him. And if he was honest, he needed her too. He hadn't had to see much of it, with going back to Hogwarts, but the world was unkind.
Nothing akin to how it was during the war- but nothing like when he was a child, either. The life of an Ex-Deatheater was a hard one, but then he supposed that made sense.
He had never experienced feeling like an outsider before. Not really, and so he was affected more than he should have been.
That made everything a sickening kind of worse, when Harry came through the Floo.
They hadn't seen each other much since the end of Hogwarts, and in the chilly months leading to Christmas, their friends had only met up five or six times. Though that was partially his fault. The first time they had all gone to a pub, but as soon as Draco had stepped into the rowdy place on Diagon, it was clear he wasn't welcome. What began as accidental barges and off-handed insults, ended with Harry having to stand on a table and stun the entire crowd of people who were all trying to collectively shove him back out the door. It was more than impressive, but Draco had been too shaken up to appreciate it at the time.
So from then on, they were forced to meet up at each other's places. Only, most were still living with their parents while they were in higher education or apprenticeships, and the others' houses were barely big enough to fit more than two people at a time, with such a small beginning wage. They did it a few times; bonfires in the garden to widen their space, or badly attempted charms to make rooms bigger on the inside. In the end, it proved too much work, though no one said it outright. Instead, they made plans less and less, until they stopped altogether.
So Harry Potter stepping out of his fireplace was certainly not expected.
"Harry?" Draco blinked at him from the couch, where he had been peacefully reading the profit. It was dark now, but he'd been too busy with the garden to read it that morning, with his mother away.
"Draco. I didn't realise you'd be down here" he looked genuinely startled, to find Draco in his own home.
"Who else did you expect to find, Potter?" Harry didn't smile. He wasn't even looking at Draco; eyes fitting across the room behind him.
"Is your mum home?" He was wringing his hands, and only then did Draco notice the parchment clutched tight in the stark white of Harry's fist.
"Uh.." confused was too little a word to describe his feelings in that moment. Bewildered, was a better one. Utterly baffled, came close.
"She went on a trip a few days ago, to celebrate the end of her house arrest. I can owl her if you need me to?" Draco was trying hard not to look too worried. Only, there was something off in Harry's posture. He looked uneasy, like a deer in a field of hunters. It wasn't a new expression on the raven's features, but it was undoubtedly one Draco hated seeing.
"No, that's alright. It isn't really that sort of thing- I'm here on behalf of the ministry." Harry had of course become an Auror. And despite spending four months in training, he had climbed the ranks so fast Draco had been certain it had to have broken some sort of record, once he'd heard.
Draco sat up a little straighter, "Oh, I see." He said, despite not seeing at all.
"Yes. So, uh. I think... I suppose I have to inform you, instead." Harry's lip must have been bleeding from how much he'd been gnawing on it, and he couldn't seem to stay still; constantly shifting where he stood. But he somehow managed to look overly stiff even so.
He suddenly sighed and dropped down next to him on the couch, staying a safe distance away. There was nothing familiar about this version of Harry; a Harry that was trying to stay professional, evidently.
"I really didn't expect I'd have to do this. I thought your mother would be here, and- well. None of that matters now." He took a breath, holding Draco's eye with mustered-up courage.
"Last night, your Father died." Before he had even processed the words, Draco's chest began to hurt so badly that there was a split second where he thought he was going to die. He closed his eyes, distantly aware of his body crumbling in on itself. "It was of natural causes, and he didn't suffer. I'm so, so sorry." He doesn't remember much of the rest of the night; most of it shrouded in a dark pain. But there are things he does know. Moments that broke through the dust cloud and embedded themselves into his soul. Firstly, is the guttural cry he let out, a few seconds after Harry told him. Breaking those floodgates also seemed to break Harry's professionalism. He sank to the floor at Draco's feet and held his head from where it rested on his knees as he felt himself shuddering with each heaved breath.
"Fa- Dad. Dad. Why? I can't- I'll never see him again. Oh no, Merlin, oh Merlin please I can't do this."
"It's okay. You're okay."
"How do I tell Mother? I can't. I can't do it."
"I'll do it, Draco. I promise I'll help you."
"Why did this happen? He's dead. Salazar, he's dead. No, please. Please. Please." That went on for another few hours, and Draco was still sobbing when Harry brought forward another of the few moments that Draco would remember. He opened his eyes, to find Harry's face just as damp and puffy. He'd been crying too. The realisation was a lit match in an ocean of darkness.
The final occurred many more hours after that when Draco's sobbing had finally reduced to sniffles. The raven had stood up to stand near and stare at the fire. When he finally turned around, Draco looked up at him with wet, hazy vision and Harry must have seen something there, because the raven kissed him. It was an intimate moment, one that conveyed things that words were simply unqualified to express. Things like Sorrow. Care. Love. Draco didn't pull away, couldn't find it in him to. But when the kiss came to a natural close, Draco turned away and continued to cry. Neither spoke of the kiss. Neither spoke at all. Instead, they spent the night sitting together in a fragile kind of silence.