Celestial Being

The thing was, Draco didn’t know how to stay out of trouble. The prestige and power his family held when Draco was a youth did not require him to learn the skill. It left him to be entitled and cruel. In the years since, he had more bitterness than motivation to change. He might not be entitled to much anymore, but he harnessed his aloofness to pretend he could be. He threw it in the face of every person who would dare to make him feel lesser than he once was and Draco refused to learn how to hold back his Malfoy pride.

Not even for the king.

All the king’s friends were playing some political game Draco was too ignorant to understand, and foolishly they all thought Draco was on the king’s side. It led Ronald to tell Draco how vulnerable the king would be this evening. Which would make it so very easy for Draco to be cruel. They’d even given him an excuse to mingle and scheme with those they said might wish the king harm. It was all laid out in front of him, if only he wished to take his revenge.

Why shouldn’t he? The king had literally tried to kill Draco. He’d succeeded in killing his father. Draco had been barely more than kept prisoner. Everything Draco had now he hard earned for himself, despite the king not because of it. All of it was less than he might have if he was willing to risk taking a stance against this new regime.

The cruelty, though… Draco had been on the receiving end of too much cruelty and he found he no longer had the stomach for it. Not that he had ever been truly horrid. Nothing like King Voldermort, who Draco knew enjoyed personally torturing his prisoners and ruled through the fear that anyone in court might join the prisoners’ ranks. Still, over the years since the war, Draco had been forced to consider how every wicked barb he ever made had landed on those less fortunate than himself. How his derision shaped the behaviors of others. How a subtle kick or tripping of the ankle could injure another, and spur on bullying behavior by the masses. The courtiers looked hungry this evening. They were eager for anyone to display the cruelty Draco once thrived on so they could follow.

Draco didn’t want to side with the jackals, no matter who they were against. Not even if it was the king.

And it was the king. Draco, internally torn by Ronald’s request, had watched King Harry from a corner. The party was early yet. By all accounts the king needn’t even have arrived. Draco assumed there was some political purpose, but also assumed the king couldn’t possibly be achieving it with any effectiveness. The king was skilled at keeping an impartial face, but the lines of his body betrayed his exhaustion. The only thing he was doing effectively was draining his third glass of wine. The king waved for another one, but Draco interceeded before the servant could bring the wine to him.

Draco brought a different glass with him when he approached the king’s side. He handed the proxy off, keeping the glass of wine for himself.

The king was too distracted by the courtier soliciting him to even question Draco’s strange behavior. The king took a large gulp then immediately sputtered. His attention was finally drawn to Draco. “Seriously?” The king growled.

Draco smiled saccharinely. “No need to fuss. It’s water, not poison.” Draco only realized how off color the joke was when the couriers around them flinched.

“Best hope you’re not so unfortunate that someone else does poison me tonight. All the folks here will pin it on you,” the king replied, his tone light in a way Draco wasn’t used to the king using with him. At least when Draco wasn’t wearing a mask. Draco couldn’t tell if it was banter, or the king skillfully covering for Draco once again putting his foot in his mouth.

“Your godson wants you to wish him goodnight,” Draco lied. He saw the king’s subtle frown that showed the king caught the lie. However, instead of questioning it, the king took the out and politely disengaged from the crowd.

The two men hardly walked out of sight of the ballroom before the king found a bench to collapse onto. He still had the glass of water and he chugged it. With only Draco watching, the king leaned backwards, resting his head against the wall and closing his eyes.

He was so very, very vulnerable, but Draco didn’t have it in him to be cruel. Instead he sipped the king’s wine and watched the king decompress from the day’s pressure.

“I used to like my birthday,” King Harry finally said, his eyes still closed.

Draco let the words hang between them for a moment. “What changed?” he finally asked.

King Harry’s face pinched. “Someone had to do the right thing, and it was as easy for me to do it as it would have been for anyone.”

“Is the right thing hosting elaborate parties for people you despise?” Draco inquired, figuring the king had rested enough to face Draco’s questions.

Instead of being upset, King Harry just laughed. “They tell me it is,” he said.

“Hmmm… ‘they,’ a formidable force,” drawled Draco.

The king shrugged. “Hermoine, McGonagall, Andromeda…”

“Are they your Small Council?” Draco asked, perhaps too pointed a dig.

“I don’t get to choose my Small Council,” the king grumbled.

Draco’s laugh was cold. “You’re the king, you do whatever you want.”

King Harry did sit up then. The softness around his edges once again hard. He gazed at Draco the way he stared at any of the courtiers he didn’t care for over the course of the day. Draco himself slumped, only then realizing they’d had a moment and the moment was over. Draco looked away first rather than contend with the king’s brittle boundaries.

“We should be getting back,” said the king.

Draco hated these small moments of rejection. He thought he’d always hate the king for having lost to him in the war, and truly that still stung. However, it was Draco’s own foolish choice to play in a fantasy world where he had never been in the war at all that caused him the most harm. Draco knew exactly what his life would be like if the king was open to seeing him as someone other than a Malfoy.

Draco gripped his wineglass tightly and breathed deep. He liked who he was. People he cared for liked who he was. People he hardly knew saw potential in him for who he was. He didn’t need the approval of the king, or all those strangers in the ballroom who would crawl over him and Teddy for a shred of power. He didn’t want to play their game. He was just on edge from the hours spent in the company of so many people he couldn’t trust. He didn’t know how to reign in his frazzledness.

God, the disapproval Lucius would feel towards Draco for that. It hung heaviest of all on Draco’s shoulders. He was just the wrong sort of Malfoy no matter who was there to judge him for it.

“I think I’d rather stay out here, if it’s all the same,” Draco choked out, ashamed that his voice wobbled.

“It’s not. You can’t.” The king’s words were so matter of fact. “Your absence will be noted. You should probably go back in first.”

Draco wrapped his arms across his chest and squeezed himself. He tried to joke to cover up his turmoil. “You know, Ronald asked me to babysit you since he thought you’d get drunk and embarrass yourself. It was a mad idea, and I suppose no good deed goes unpunished.”

The words lit an anger in the king. “Why would he say that to you?” emphasis on the ‘to you’ part, Draco noted. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

Draco struggled not to roll his eyes but managed to maintain his composure. He did snark, “That’s good, because I’m not a babysitter.”

“You watch Teddy well enough,” the king snarked back.

Draco squeezed his hands into fists and pulled his arms in tighter. “Certainly you know I am not Teddy’s babysitter,” Draco said through gritted teeth.

The king snorted. “Then what are you?” he asked.

It was like the floor fell out from under Draco. There was nothing to steady him. Draco had no words to answer King Harry’s question. Teddy had parents. They were murdered by Draco’s own family. Teddy had a devoted and loving grandmother who was present in his life. Teddy had a godfather who might be rough around the edges but also was trying to put Teddy on the throne. Teddy had so many people who Draco knew on paper were more to him than Draco could ever be. Draco didn’t dare claim the same standing.

“He said you’d get drunk and offend half the courtiers,” Draco reflected. “Since you’re starting with me, you can just tell the rest I went to bed with the other servants and I’m sure everyone will understand your meaning just fine.”

Draco didn’t wait for an answer. He just left. Uncharitably, it could be called running away.

Today had been too much. The king had been right that Draco didn’t understand how court worked. Draco was overwhelmed. He didn’t want to be cruel, but he refused to let cruelty be inflicted on him.

“Draco, wait,” the king called after him. Draco didn’t wait. The king was forced to chase after him. “Draco, stop,” he said more insistently. Then a moment later, when he caught up enough to Draco to pull on his arm. “Damnit, I’m the king, could you for once listen to me?”

Draco yanked hard to force the king to let him go. “What are you going to do about it? Banish me? Throw me in the dungeon? Cut off my head and celebrate over my corpse?”

“Don’t be petulant,” the king scolded.

“Why the hell not?” Draco’s voice was too loud but he couldn’t stop himself. “You had me walk behind you in procession, as if I were family. Then the moment you get a chance you make clear that was a lie. You’re using me and it’s awful and I hate it.”

The king didn’t even look upset. His face showed nothing substantive. Draco felt lower than ever facing this brick wall of a man. He wanted the words to say something awful enough to break through but all the words that came to mind would hurt Draco most.

“You’re going home tomorrow. Just keep it together for tonight,” the king directed.

Draco clenched his jaw. He seethed, “This is me keeping it together. I have the good sense to walk away before doing something I can’t come back from.”

The king’s face darkened. “Is that a threat?”

Draco threw up his hands. “Yes, that’s a threat,” he mocked. “Scary Draco Malfoy is going to do some minor treason against the king.” Then, more bitter than even Draco intended, “I don’t know why you didn’t just fucking kill me to begin with.”

The dark shadow across the king’s features deepened. He stepped forward to loom over Draco. “I didn’t kill you because restoration is expensive and Horace Slughorn was the only one who knew where the money was kept. We knew he’d turn tail and run unless he thought I was serious about reconciliation. When we announced your pardon he opened up the vaults.” The king’s glare somehow darkened further. “I voted we chance your mother’s pardon being enough, so you could be executed with your father. Sadly, no one else agreed.”

The king’s wrath somehow steadied Draco. It was an old and familiar menace he’d long ago learned to brave. “A pity your powers of persuasion haven’t improved since then. Maybe if you’d gotten any better you wouldn’t be having such trouble in court.” Draco had found something biting to say, afterall.

The king’s anger fully broke through and he growled out his rage and stomped a few steps away from Draco to fume. “Why do they like you?” King Harry demanded to know. “Andromeda, Percy, Luna, What have you done to wheedle your way into their affection?”

“Don’t forget George,” Draco added. “He’s grown quite keen on me, too.”

The king pointed at Draco. “That! You always do that. You always have the last word. You make a joke out of everything serious. You refuse to keep your mouth shut and behave.”

“And that’s what you want from your friends. You go to Andromeda and say ‘keep your mouth shut and behave!’ You tell Ronald ‘be more serious.’”

“You’re not my friend!” the king all but howled.

Draco yelled back. “My apologies, your majesty! Let me lick your boots and toady up to you. That clearly brings you so much pleasure. Which is why you ran off from the room filled with your sycophants!”

“Stop blowing everything out of proportion. I’m just saying to be normal!”

“But I’m not normal!” Draco snapped. “We’re not normal,” he insisted. “You conquered me. You stripped away all my possessions. You killed nearly everyone I love and tried to kill me - twice! You resent that I’m not dead. What is normal to that? What use is even pretending none of this happened? One conversation with you and it’s right back in my face exactly who I am and what my place is.”

“Don’t make yourself out to be a victim in this,” said the king.

Draco dismissed his concern with a wave. “No, no. I was an exceptionally evil child who condoned all the vicious choices of my king.”

The king loomed again. “They were your father’s choices. Voldermort was on the throne, but Lucius commanded the kingdom. Don’t think I don’t know how devoted you were to your father. There’s not one doubt in my mind you would take up arms for his cause if he were still here.”

That was true, Draco supposed. He could never have let his father go if he were still alive. It was only clear now the many ways Draco had let his father go. In the castle, Draco’s choices to live life differently were starkly juxtaposed against how his father would have had him live it. Still… “You never even knew your parents, but you’re still trying to make them proud,” Draco said. “Don’t judge me for loving mine, too.”

The king grabbed Draco by his coat collar and slammed him back into a wall. His face was furious. Too late, Draco realized that mentioning the king’s parents crossed a line too dangerous even for Draco.

“Harry!” It was Hermione who saved Draco. “What on earth are you doing?”

King Harry released Draco at once and Draco staggered.

“It’s nothing,” the king said, his voice still a growl.

Hermione looked between both men and only looked more worried from what she saw. Something more pressing forced her to push the issue aside. “You disappeared. People have been wondering about it.” She glanced significantly at Draco.

“Christ, Hermione, what gossip are they spinning now?” the king grumbled.

Hermione pursed her lips without responding. “It’s time you get back. Before Prince Krum’s arrival.”

The king swore. He stalked down the hallway for a moment to give himself air. Several deep breaths later he came back. “Alright. I’m ready.”

Hermione looked him over from head to toe before nodding her approval. “Best go in then.” She glanced at Draco. “But not together.”

Draco buried his face in his hands and bit back a groan. What was his life?

“Fine. Handle him,” the king said, clearly referring to Draco.

Draco didn’t have energy left to be offended. Besides, at least the king finally walked away.