two
CHAPTER TWO: TWO CAN KEEP A SECRET
Harry Potter
Harry woke up with a start, his heart pounding in his chest. For a moment, he lay there, disoriented and unsure of where he was. The last thing he remembered was the light, the blinding light, and a sense of falling into nothingness. He had been certain he was dead.
As he blinked his eyes open, the surroundings slowly came into focus. The small room, the sparse furnishings, the worn-out bedspread—everything was disturbingly familiar. He sat up, his mind racing. He was back in his old room at 4 Privet Drive.
Harry swung his legs over the side of the bed, his feet touching the rough carpet. He took a deep breath, the faint scent of Aunt Petunia’s obsessive cleaning filling his nostrils, just for a second before it disappeared. This made no sense. How could he be here? He was supposed to be dead.
He stood up shakily, his legs feeling weak and unsteady. Memories of the car-crash flashed through his mind. He had seen the light; he had felt the cold grip of death, he, of all people, would recognize it in an instant. But now he was here, in the last place he would have ever expected to find himself.
Harry made his way to the window and looked out at the familiar street of Privet Drive. It was quiet and still, just as he remembered it. The same neat lawns, the same identical houses. It was as if nothing had changed.
He turned away from the window and headed downstairs, each step feeling surreal. The house was eerily silent. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he noticed a few things out of place: a coat draped over the banister, shoes that weren't his by the door. He glanced into the living room and saw signs of recent occupation—a half-empty glass of water, a book left open on the coffee table.
It was clear that someone had been here, but who? And why? He felt a strange sense of déjà vu, mixed with a deep-seated unease. Harry walked through the house, looking for any clues, but there was nothing to explain how he had ended up here, or who had been in the house with him.
As he stood in the middle of the living room, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something important. The last thing he remembered was in fact, dying, ready for the end. And now, here he was, alive (?) and back in a place he thought he had left behind forever.
Questions swirled in his mind, but for now, he had no answers. All he knew was that he was back in the real world, against all odds, and he was back in the house that had been both his prison and his refuge for so many years. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. There had to be a reason for this. There had to be a way to find out what had happened.
Harry was determined to uncover the truth, no matter what it took.
Draco Malfoy
Trudy’s was in, in the most kindest of words that Draco could think of, disgusting. It stunk of booze and burnt leather, the lighting was so bad Draco had no clear vision of anything really, and the bar was still overly crowded. Muggles were sprawled all over the place, the sofas, the chairs, the floor that should have been empty for people to walk on. Around some of the men, women in the shortest outfits imaginable to mankind were whispering in their ears or falling down on their laps.
Draco hadn’t been to many bars before, but he was sure that this was not what they were showing in those movies he watched on his telly.
“Derek!” A voice called out, slurred and too loud. Draco waited a few seconds before he realized that they were referring to him. He turned around to see Aaron Hark, a colleague and probably one of the nastiest muggles he has ever had a chance to work next to.
It wasn’t that Aaron was ugly or anything as such, if the man ever cleaned up well, he would have been considered extremely handsome. But as of now, his beard was unkempt, his hair too long and greasy and the way he talked to muggle women was rather unattractive, as if they were objects rather than human beings,
He was sat in a booth, with a woman Draco had never seen before kissing his neck. From the seats next to him, barren and cold, it seemed as if everyone had already left. He would have to, except Aaron kept beckoning him towards himself.
“Hello, Aaron,” Draco smiled in his direction politely, before slipping onto one of the seats in the booth, “How do you do?”
“Derek! My man, I am better now that you’re here,” He was obviously drunk, and Draco looked around hoping to find any reason on Earth using which he could get out of here. Aaron was oblivious to his struggles, as he turned to the woman and asked her to get them a bottle of vodka.
She got up and left before Draco had a chance to say anything.
“You’re a curious little thing, aren’t ya, Derek Morrinson?” He spat his name, as if there was something wrong with it. For a second, Draco was worried that this man was, in fact, not a muggle but a wizard in disguise.
“I am hardly that, Aaron,” Draco replied, trying to keep his face neutral. “Are you sure you should drink more?”
Aaron leaned back, his eyes glinting with a mischievous light as he let out a loud, bellowing laugh. “Oh, come on now, Derek. Don’t be such a buzzkill.” He slapped the table with his hand, the impact causing the empty glasses to rattle. “We’re here to have a good time, aren’t we?”
Draco forced a smile, though his discomfort was palpable. He could feel the eyes of several patrons lingering on him, curiosity or suspicion evident in their glances. This place was far from the refined environments he was accustomed to, and the heavy scent of smoke and alcohol made him feel slightly nauseous.
“Sure, a good time,” Draco echoed, though he doubted he could ever find enjoyment in such a place. His mind wandered back to the comfortable confines of his own home, the quiet and the cleanliness, the company of people who understood the world he came from.
The woman returned with a bottle of vodka, setting it down on the table with a practiced smile. Aaron grabbed it eagerly, pouring two generous glasses before sliding one over to Draco. “Here, drink up. It’ll loosen you up a bit.”
Draco stared at the glass, the clear liquid catching the dim, flickering light. He knew he couldn’t outright refuse without arousing suspicion. “Thank you,” he said, lifting the glass to his lips and taking a sip.
Aaron didn’t seem to notice or care. He downed his own glass in one gulp and let out a satisfied sigh. “That’s more like it,” he said, leaning forward conspiratorially.
“You know, Derek, I’ve been thinking. You’re not like the others at the office. You’ve got a... mystery about you.”
Draco’s heart skipped a beat. He forced himself to maintain a calm demeanor. “I’m not sure what you mean,” he said lightly, setting the glass down carefully.
Aaron chuckled, shaking his head, filling Draco’s glass with more liquor. “Oh, come on. Don’t play dumb with me. I can see it in your eyes. You’re hiding something. But don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.” He leaned back, a smug grin spreading across his face.
Draco felt a chill run down his spine. He needed to get out of here, and fast. “I appreciate that, Aaron,” he said, standing up. “But I don’t know what secret you’re on about.”
“I know you slept with the boss’s daughter.” Draco let out a sigh of relief, gulping down another glass. That was hardly a secret, everyone knew but they never mentioned it.
“Ahhh, that,” he said, a slight smirk playing on his lips. “I didn’t think it was much of a mystery.”
Aaron laughed again, the sound grating on Draco’s nerves. “Yeah, well, it’s not every day you see someone like you in our midst, Derek. You’ve got an air about you, you know? Like you don’t really belong here.”
Draco’s smirk faltered for a moment. Aaron’s words struck closer to home than he would have liked to admit. “I suppose I’m just a bit different,” he said carefully. “But that doesn’t mean I’m hiding anything.”
Aaron leaned in closer, the smell of alcohol on his breath making Draco recoil slightly. “Different, huh? Well, that’s one way to put it. But I like you, Derek. You’re a good guy. Just... keep your head down, yeah? You never know who’s watching.”
Draco nodded, trying to keep his expression neutral. “I’ll keep that in mind. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really do need to get going. Early start and all that.”
Aaron waved him off, already distracted by the woman returning to his side. “Yeah, yeah, sure. See you around, Derek.”
Draco quickly made his way through the crowded bar, the noise and chaos pressing in on him from all sides. As he finally stepped out into the cool night air, he took a deep breath, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. He glanced back at the entrance of Trudy’s, the neon sign flickering ominously.
He walked briskly down the street, his mind racing. Aaron’s words echoed in his head, a stark reminder that he was still an outsider in this world. He had to be more careful, more vigilant. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down, not for a second.
Draco walked through the dark streets, the chill of the night air helping to clear his mind. As he approached Privet Drive, he felt a strange mix of relief and apprehension. The house at number four had become his reluctant refuge, a far cry from Malfoy Manor, but at least it provided some semblance of privacy and security.
He opened the front door quietly, stepping into the dimly lit hallway. The familiar surroundings did little to soothe his nerves. He hung his coat on the hook by the door and slipped off his shoes, trying to make as little noise as possible. The silence of the house was comforting, but as he moved towards the living room, he heard an unexpected noise—a soft rustling sound.
Draco's heart skipped a beat. He reached into his pocket and drew his wand, holding it tightly as he approached the living room door. He moved carefully, his senses on high alert.
It could be a death eater, here for revenge. He betrayed them, that day back in the times of the war. He betrayed them more than once. He was a traitor— to both sides of the war.
And no-one would listen that he had no choice in the paths he took in life, that his was father was the puppeteer and he was merely dancing along as his strings were pulled.
He pushed the door open with his wand outstretched, ready for whatever—or whoever—might be there. His eyes widened in shock as he took in the sight before him.
Standing in the middle of the room, looking equally surprised, was Harry Potter.
“Potter?” Draco breathed, disbelief coloring his voice. For a moment, he wondered if the alcohol was making him hallucinate. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d imagined something odd after a night out.
Harry, just as taken aback, lowered the book he had been holding. “Malfoy? What are you doing here?”
Draco blinked, trying to process the scene in front of him. “I live here, obviously,” he replied, the confusion evident in his tone. He took a step forward, but the room seemed to spin around him. The combined stress of the evening and the shock of seeing Harry Potter in his living room were too much.
Before he could say another word, the world went black and Draco felt himself falling, the last thing he heard being Harry’s concerned shout of his name.