Neville sighed, his grandma was old, so old that he had in fact forgotten that she was mortal. He was surprised when she died, but so was the way of life, elders pass away while babies are born. She had never particularly looked very lively, but her shoulders were always straight, maintaining a perfect posture at all times. Moreover, she forever had this forlorn and stern expression in her face, judging everything that happened around her. She was regal and full of dignity till the very end. Even if she never had been one for physical affections (or affection in any way), Neville knew that she loved him dearly, and he had loved her too, ugly hat and all.
But now, his mourning period was done for good and it was time he sorted out his grandmother's state. Of all her properties the most troublesome one was a flat in muggle London, in Victoria Street. Why his Gran had owned such a place was a mystery to him, the flat was as magical as a potato, and it was a pain, as the neighborhood was so muggle, no wizard wanted to buy or rent the place. At least until the most surprising of people had taken wind of the situation, Draco Malfoy. There was something vulnerable in his gaze since the war ended, a sort of tiredness that never seemed to abandon him and slouched his shoulders forwards, so different from the prideful manner of the posture he had associated with the slytherin in his youth. He had always been pale, but now there was a gauntness to his skin, a purple under his eyes, it was shocking to witness.
As a whole, the situation was striking. He was probably one of the few people to see Draco Malfoy in years. After the war had ended, on account of his last actions that aided to save the life of Harry Potter in his own manor, he had been pardoned Azkaban and instead confined to house arrest for at least 5 years. He had not been seen for 7, many thought he had died, but it wasn't the case, if his eyes were to be believed. It was Arthur Weasley, on behalf of his son Percy, who had first approached him with the situation. If it hadn't been them, he would surely outright have refused, but life was a funny thing, and now he was handing Draco Malfoy the keys of his new house.
“So…”, he looked around, clutching his hands, “There is not much to the house, it isn’t connected to Flu either, I don't know if Percy mentioned it? But it is neatly spell-guarded and the neighborhood is nice, if quiet.”
“I like quiet.”
Neville waited, it seemed that Draco had something else to say, his mouth gaping while he looked to his feet. This man was so unlike what he expected, even after so many years without meeting him. In par with the uneasy feeling of seeing one of your school bullies again, he pitied him. He was indeed extremely curious to know what had driven Draco Malfoy here, but if the end of the war had taught him something, it was prudence. Many might call him a coward, but If bravery was to be, nothing better than to be brave in his kindness. He would ponder no more if Draco actually deserved this - he didn't - but the sight of a man so tortured, so changed, was appalling.
“I think I’m done here, I’ll leave you to it then.” He turned in his feet and made a reach for the door.
“Wait!” Draco looked startled, like he himself couldn't believe he had spoken “Thank you, you didn't have to, but you did, and for what it’s worth, I am sorry.“
Neville had decided to be kind, it is true, but he couldn't find it within himself to actually muster a response. So he flashed a little smile towards Draco and nodded. It was almost past tea-time, and with Frank being so little, he missed him every moment they were apart, it was time he returned to his family.
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As soon as he heard the clunk of the door closing, he sighted. Draco was so tired, but in all honesty, he did not remember the last time he wasn't. Tears welled up in his eyes. Breathe in, breathe out. The days after the war were hard, and although he firmly believed his worst hours were gone by, nightmares still haunted him from time to time. This was a new opportunity, far from all those things that had made Draco Malfoy into the git he once was, far from the memory of his never approving father and woe-filled mother. Narcissa had finally retired to France last year, to live in one of the remaining French properties that she had received as a dowry upon her marriage to Lucius. He did visit sometimes, but mostly, they exchanged owls. The grief of losing Lucius all too great for her, son and father too similar to stomach Draco’s new demeanor most days…
He barely sees anybody these days. At first, he had rejected all kinds of visits, that was until Percy Weasley appeared in his live. At first, they had met in an official kind of business. The Malfoy Manor was full of all kinds of shady and dark artifacts, and many of them needed to be assessed and subsequently taken into custody, Draco did not mind. That house and the things on it haunted him, serpent-like whisperings, terrifying nothings that disturbed his sleep. In his worst days, he even swore he heard Granger shout from the basement.
It was one such day that he became overrun by guilt and madness seemed to finally take him. He doesn't remember much of it, and Percy always refused to give him details, but he knows, to some extent. He went rogue, berserk, the manor’s state was a testament to that.
“It will do you no good.” He had arrived but 10 minutes prior, he was gonna lend him a helping hand with the move in, Draco was grateful.
“You are right, why are you always right?” They smiled, it was becoming more common these days.
“I am not, and what a blessing that is!” He lighted a cigarette, smiling. It was a nasty habit, but he had become quite indulgent after his brother’s death, “I don't know If I have ever told you this; but I was not supposed to assess anything that day.”
“Hold my hippogriffs, really?”
“I was just really hungover, and well, I woke up in a rush thinking it was indeed assessment day.”
“Blessed pants of Merlin.” He looked down to his shirt and laughed, “A toast to hangovers!”
“We don't have drinks, Draco.”
“Then let's go grab some, don't be a lazy ass!”
At first, their meetings had been of convenience, later out of a mutual understanding. They both were riddled by an unspeakable guilt, and for the longest time it was only with each other that they felt any rest from it. Then they started to care, to talk, to heal. Yet, he was afraid to say it. The thing.
“Hey” Draco slurred
“Huh?” Percy’s head rested against the newly bought sofas’ side, beer in hand.
“The soulmate business”
“I don't know if I would call it business” He interrupted, snickering, “If it were, it would be regulated by the Ministry of Magic, which it isn't, I would know” It was surprising, Percy´s penchant for dramatics and theatricals, once you got to know him.
“No, no. Not what I mean, you know that.” He laughed so hard beer came out of his nose as he snorted, spraying the liquid on his shirt.
“I can’t.” Percy was trying very hard to maintain a serene expression, he was not very successful.
Now both were failing to calm themselves, lest the conversation not continue for their inability to not laugh.
“Okay. “ Draco heaved, “I am serious now.” He smiled.
“Sure you are.” He laughed again, “ But, do tell, what is it about the “Business” of Soulmates?”
“Do you believe in it?”
Percy adopted a quiet demeanor, his laugh died down. His eyes suddenly shone before looked into the corner of the almost-empty living room. He was here, with him but a minute prior, but he knew, because he knew Percy and his demos like they were his own, that right now he was not here with him. He was thinking of the past, he always got that look when talking about it. Draco reached out and touched his shoulder.
“Perce? I’m sorry I asked. “When he finally looked at him, Draco reached further and embraced him, Percy’s head now resting on his shoulder, his hand in his waist. Then, lastly, he talked.
“I didn’t use to, you know? I thought it was a silly thing for silly wizards. Even knowing my parents, how much they loved each other. It’s just difficult, resentment. We were poor and struggling. I just thought my parents were so irresponsible, no matter how much they loved each other” He breathed “and I was so angry, so angry all the time. Because it just felt unfair. I used to strive so hard to always do my very best, and sure, they were proud, they are proud.” He said, as if reassuring himself rather than Draco.” He paused for a moment, as if collecting his thoughts in a very Percy-like manner.
“They always thought I had too much ambition in me, they weren’t wrong, but I was taxating. Because no matter how much I tried, and they didn’t, they still had each other, and I felt so alone. So no, I didn’t want to believe, but I hoped. Then Fred died.
Draco hugged him tighter. The rest was left unsaid. They had talked about Fred plenty, or rather, the loss of him. Percy and the twins were never close, nor was he close to any other of his siblings (he loved them no less fiercely for that), but Fred’s loss had left vivacious George like a husk of himself. He was better, of course, married and a father to little Fred Jr, yet he could not form a patronus, and 7 years later, neither could Percy, the guilt was all too great. But it was seeing George those first days after the war that had finally made him believe in soulmates, for no loss could be equal, and there was no other way of explaining the wails of his brother that, to this day, haunted him.
“I used to feel alone too.” The rest was left unsaid, again (not any more, not with you by my side, where I could fight all my battles, cure all my sorrows and laugh forevermore), so instead he added: “You have always been brave.”
“I have not” (but you make me brave, valiant even, what couldn't I face knowing I have your support? What thing wouldn’t I want to experience knowing you are here, with me, my head on your shoulder?). He could hear the beat of his heart, he wondered if Draco could feel it beating against his. If he were truly brave, he might ask him to always beat as one, instead, talking against Draco’s neck he whispered: “Since that day, I have not felt alone, at least when I am with you.”
Draco’s breath stopped for a second, Percy’s whisper like a caress in his skin. He grabbed his neck, his red hair, and moved his head further so they could look into each other's eyes. It could have been a second, a minute, perhaps an hour. He doubted he would ever tire from looking into those eyes. And so they did as they had done many times already, they kissed. Once upon a time both could have thought they were good with words, but all they could do when looking into each other was wonder if they deserved this, feelings overcoming rationality. Touches overcoming words. Happiness overcoming anxiety and guilt.
“We will never be alone again.”
“Together?”
“There is no other way, Perce, I could never go out there without you.”
“You won’t have to, I simply wouldn’t let you.”
And if in the coming decades any witch or wizard wondered why the once uptight Percy Weasley or the pretentious Draco Malfoy seemed completely different with each other, why in the occasional event held hands or why always smiled at each other, they would simply say they were an odd pair of people. It was rare to see one without the other, so when Draco officially reapered in Society, it soon became apparent that Mr Weasley should always be extended an invitation too, for odd as they were, it was easy to recognize that alone, they looked miserable.
Neville, as per his early resolution, despite his intrigue, never dug deeper. Anyhow, it was clear, at least after the first time he caught them snoging in the Burrow a couple years later. It was during Christmas, after Molly herself had insisted Draco be invited and made him a sweater. It was an uncomfortable affair, if happy. Just like that time first time he meet Draco after the war, although from embarrassment this time around, he could not muster a response, so simple smiled, and closed the door behind him.