A miracle, Indeed
Bright artificial lights illuminated the square hospital room. Death was cruel even to those who did not deserve it; it hung close to the body on the still bed. Anyone who passed through the room could feel the dread and despair that echoed off the walls.
The man lay there, not dead, but he might as well be. Draco Malfoy stood looming over the figure, almost as still as the messy-haired man.
"How pitiful! What happened to the great Harry Potter I knew?" Drcao’s hand traced the faded lightning scar. It was something he had always wanted to do. Something he never had the courage to ask for. He was still a coward, even nine years after the war. Some things never change. Well, some things did. He had to remember that for Harry’s sake. He promised.
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Draco Malfoy had been hunched over his desk, checking and rechecking his finances for the past hour. He would be flat broke in the next month if he did not find a miracle soon. It was either a miracle or selling the manor, and that would have his ancestors rolling in their graves. Draco was cursed enough; he didn’t need any ancestral curses on top of his misfortunes.
Shunned from the rest of the wizarding world, Draco relied on the small sum of money that was returned to him after the ministry was satisfied his family had paid their dues. With their dwindling funds, his mother had resorted to doing almost everything by hand, and his proud father would not stand for that. They fought and argued constantly before his mother one day just did not get up. His mother and father never saw eye to eye, but they loved each other. They always clung to each other through the harsh seas and the wrecking storms. A month after his mother’s death, his father followed her to the grave, selfishly leaving Draco alone.
A large sum of money was put towards their funeral. They were buried next to each other in the Manor’s cemetery, right under the old cherry tree. Even in death, they were together.
Three rasps on the front door snapped Draco from his trance. Confused, Draco quickly tramped down the stairs and questioned everything bad he had done in the past few months. There was only one type of person that graced Draco's door recently, and it was never good. The Ministry had been sniffed around after his parents' deaths, wondering if it was a front and they were trying to leave the country. It was a ridiculous and absurd notion, but the ministry usually had a lot of those.
Draco squared his face in indifference before opening the mahogany double door. It was always best to make an impression. His family has always been one for flair and drama.
He opened the door and shut it immediately. Why was Harry Potter standing on his porch?
" Malfoy, open this door. Now," Draco hoped, if he just closed his eyes, everything would go back to normal. This was just a cruel prank played on him by the universe. "Please, Malfoy."
Harry Potter had just said please to none other than Draco Malfoy. Oh, this was really karma getting back at Drcao for all of his wrongdoings. He opened the door slowly, hoping that on the other side would be a different bespeckled, green-eyed git.
Nope. It was still Harry Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World, standing on his porch in grey tattered jeans and a red hoodie.
"Are you not going to invite me in, Malfoy?" Potter smirked as he ran his eyes over Draco's long-limbed body. Draco would have told him to stop ogling, but that would make him a hypocrite.
"I thought you would have manners considering you’re so posh," said Potter, his green eyes drilling a hole into Draco.
"I have manners."
"Then use them and invite me in."
"Why should I? Unless you are here on official auror business, I do not have to invite you in." Potter’s face clenched, and that meant there was a story there. A story that Draco had to know.
"I have a present for you. Something you have been missing for quite a while, I reckon," Potter said, his hands reaching down to his pocket. " But! I will only give it to you if you let me in."
Draco wanted to wipe that grin off of Potter's face; he was clearly enjoying the interaction. Draco, on the other hand, was getting cold, and his curiosity was getting the best of him.
" Fine. Come in, you prat." Draco stepped out of the way to let the grinning Potter in.
As if it were his own house. Potter walked into the living room and made himself comfortable.
"A cuppa would be greatly appreciated." Potter smiled.
Like the idiot he was, he made himself and Harry a cuppa and even brought shortbread cookies since Potter looked a bit peckish. Since when did he care for Potter's well-being? He was going insane.
"So, my present?" Draco sat opposite Potter, trying with all his might to be nonchalant. Harry looked out the window with a distant gaze. Something was wrong.
" Malfoy. I have a favour to ask of you. Something very random, and I hope you won't say no... but it is okay if you do. It's very important to me. Its- " Potter was no longer looking out the window but instead at his hand. He was twisting them, and Draco wanted to reach out and hold his hand. That was a crazy thought—Malfoy and Potter holding hands.
"Spit it out, Potter." What was the boy who lived asking of a lowly ex-death eater?
"Let me live here for six months!" It all came tumbling out. "I’ll pay for room and board. I won't make any messes, and if I do, I'll clean them all up. Please. Please Malfoy!
Potter was on the edge of his seat, his green eyes pleading at Draco behind his ridiculous glasses. This was something important if he was willing to beg. At that moment, Draco was given his miracle.
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Potter wouldn’t tell him why he wanted to live in the manor, but Malfoy did not give a rat's arse. Potter was willing to pay a large sum to live in his dingy and falling-apart manor.
His room was across from Potter's. He would love to put Potter on the other side of the manor, but his mother had closed it off after the war. It was tainted is what she had told her father after he pitched a fit. One of his father's many sayings was Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. He had to keep an eye on Potter; he didn't want the authorities after him if something happened to the deranged lunatic. Potter had a high track record of always getting himself stuck in places he shouldn’t be near.
Potter retired early, leaving Draco to resume his earlier task. He had asked if Potter wanted a tour but was turned down.
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At the crack of dawn, Draco woke up to a crash. He slammed his head on the pillow. Not even a day in, and Potter had already broke something. He rushed over to the noise before anything else could break.
Potter was hunched over, holding a knife over a painting of a younger Bellatrix. He had a crazy look in his eyes. The moon illuminated Potter's skin, giving him an otherworldly look. He was huffing, and as Draco got closer, he noticed tears streaming down his cheek as he muttered unintelligibly. Slowly, Draco inched towards Harry so as not to scare him and have the gleaming knife at his throat instead. Potter was having some sort of internal battle. Draco slowly grabbed the knife out of his hands. His other hand drew small, slow circles on Potter’s shirtless, sweaty back.
Potter lunged at Draco, gripping him harshly as he sobbed into the crook of his neck. They stayed like that until the sobs turned to dry heaves and then turned to small rumblings and silent tears.
He had to be careful. After years of consoling his mother, he had learned that any sudden moves would probably upset Potter.
"Potter, let's go to the kitchen and drink some hot chocolate. Is that something that would interest you?" He spoke quietly and continued to rub Potter's back.
Potter sat back and turned away. His face was snotty, and his eyes were bloodshot. Draco stood up and lent a hand for Potter to hold.
"Let's go. Come on."
Potter's hands gripped Dracos, and he was 11 again.