Draco Malfoy never expected to move to muggle London after the war. He felt like Malfoy Manor wasn't home anymore so he chose to move on, live a better life where he wasn't haunted by the ghosts of his past. He knew that he'd never be free in the Wizarding World, so muggle London became home.
Of course, he would never escape all the ghosts of his past. The memories would stay with him forever, and so would the guilt. He'd always have the guilt and the self-blame, but he was learning to live with that.
He had to. It had been five years since the war, and he felt like enough had changed. It had to change.
Despite leaving his old life behind, he kept a few tethers. He stayed in contact with Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson always, and even checked up on Gregory Goyle often, because the man lost his best friend. Even if Vincent Crabbe brought his death on himself and was a terrible person, it was still hard for Goyle, and Draco learned to be empathetic.
He was finally ready to fully move on though, now that Pansy and Blaise were moving to Paris, and Goyle was travelling for both himself and Crabbe. That meant he had no reason to keep in contact with the Wizarding World, considering his father was locked up indefinitely and his mother was with Andromeda, helping with Teddy Lupin.
So to signify this, he finally tattooed over the Dark Mark.
He'd moved on.
Draco considered his life to be peaceful. He had a steady job, despite being rich enough to live unemployed for the next three lifetimes. Working was a way to socialise and make friends, pursue the new life he'd created.
And it was peaceful, until the new neighbours upstairs moved in and started slowly ruining everyone in the building's peace. Every night there would be screaming and doors slamming with angry footsteps leaving. Draco started taking night shifts at the bar he worked in to avoid the arguments.
He didn't feel bad. There were a countless amount of noisy neighbours he'd had to deal with in his time in his flat, so this wasn't new and wasn't all that important to him. He'd talked to his neighbour, Etheria, about the couple upstairs, quite a few times and she agreed that it wasn't any different to all the other neighbours.
So no one did anything.
Until one night, after a seven hour shift at the bar, Draco came home at two in the morning. He was exhausted and was ready to go straight to sleep, when he heard glass shatter on the wall of the apartment above his. At first, he thought that he was dreaming.
But then he heard the voice of a guy and it sounded like he'd been crying, and Draco was too worried to be sleeping. The voice sounded familiar, and whoever it was sounded pained. He couldn't hear much from his flat, but he knew something was up and he would be an awful person if he didn't do anything.
So Draco took the elevator to the second floor, walked down the hall and knocked upon the door. He did it all without thinking, half-asleep but too concerned to not do anything, so when the door opened up, he was in shock.
What were the chances that Harry fucking Potter opened the door?
Except, Potter looked nothing like he used to. Older, fitter, enticing. He looked like he'd matured even more, which seemed impossible since he'd done all of that when he was supposed to be enjoying his childhood.
The light-brown skin of his face was tear-stained and he seemed worn out. His gorgeous green eyes were red-rimmed and slightly puffy, though his circle-framed glasses covered enough for his eyes to be barely noticeable. Behind the glasses he'd never grown out of were dark circles so prominent they could've been bruises.
He looked horrible in a beautiful way.
"Potter?"
"Malfoy?"
"Are you alright?" He instinctively asked. "I've been hearing shouting for a while, and then just a moment ago I heard glass shatter, and what I believe was your voice."
"I think your ears are playing tricks on you." Sweater zipped up to his chin. "Thanks for caring, sir, that's nice of you, but I have to go back in."
Sir?
"My ears aren't- what?" Draco was confused. He was knackered, there was a fair chance he was hearing things. But seeing Potter was all the confirmation that something was going on, and the shouting he'd been hearing for months now was saying everything.
"Wish I could tell you about the noise, but I didn't hear a thing."
Draco wanted to ask why the brunet was lying, but the words didn't leave his mouth.
He said, "It must have been the wind."
"Must have been the wind?"
"Must have been the wind."
It must have been the wind..?
The door closed softly in Draco's face, leaving the blond confused and all the more worried. He waited outside the door for a few minutes, just in case he heard the 'wind' again, but it was silent. Unnervingly silent. It only gave Draco time to think.
Why he'd found Potter looking sleep-deprived, frightened and lying about the obvious, Draco didn't know. But he was determined to find out.
He found himself lying on the floor of his room, cold concrete on his back. He just couldn't shake the feeling. He didn't want to intrude 'cause he knew he didn't have all the facts, but he couldn't bear the thought of leaving Harry Potter.
Leaving him alone with someone who was clearly messing with the Saviour. He'd fallen from his grace and it bothered Draco. The obsession he had for the Golden Boy was slowly returning, and instead of fighting the brunet, this time the blond was going to help.
He spent the next night shift worrying about Potter, and then the next, and before he knew it he was back to his regular day shifts, just in case he missed something whilst he was away. Every night, he came home around ten and made sure to stay up till the early morning just in case something happened.
Because what he was hearing was not the damn wind.
Two weeks after Draco found Harry Potter at the door of the flat above his, he'd heard something again. Not just shouting, something slamming, someone screaming and more glass shattering. It was three in the morning and Draco was about to doze off, but he couldn't now he'd heard all of that.
He found himself almost running to the elevator to go to the second floor, walked down the hall and knocked up on the door. Potter opened up again, and Draco asked about the things he heard again.
"Potter, the shouting and glass again- what's going on?" Draco asked. "What happened to your face?"
The brunet touched his red cheek, and looked away in shame.
"I think your ears are playing tricks on you." Sweater zipped up to his chin. "Thanks for caring, sir, that's nice of you but I have to go back in."
Sir, again? What the fuck?
"Don't say that bullshit again, Potter, I know I've been hearing something from this flat. All the neighbours can hear it too. What was that noise?"
"Wish I could tell you about the noise, but I didn't hear a thing."
"Well I did."
He said, "It must have been the wind."
"Must have been the wind?"
"Must have been the wind." Potter nodded.
It must have been the wind.
The door closed softly in Draco's face again. He heard the door lock and the chain locking too. There was quiet talking by the door and a voice that was scarily familiar spoke to Potter.
Cormac McLaggen, that annoying prick in Gryffindor in the year above that tried for seeker. He had a history of being abusive and didn't respect boundaries. It painted a clear picture to Draco of what was going on behind the door in front of him, but he wanted to know how and why.
How on earth did Harry Potter end up with Cormac McLaggen, and why wasn't he fighting back? The man was a Saviour, he killed Voldemort, and yet McLaggen was hurting him and it seemed like Potter made no move to defend or protect himself, which he was definitely capable of.
But that wasn't important now. What was important was helping Potter, because clearly something was holding him back from doing it himself. And Draco was going to do it a different way, because clearly asking about it wasn't working.
The next night, Draco aimed his boombox at his roof playing 'Lean on Me', just so that Potter knew he could lean on him. And when he hears the words, Draco hopes he knows he'll be okay.
The night after, he aimed his boombox at the roof playing 'Lean on Me', just so that the brunet knew he could lean on him. And when he hears the words, Draco knows exactly what he'll say.
Harry Potter knocked on Draco's door the following night, left eye bruised, throat red, his voice scratchy. He was crying and Draco offered him to come in immediately.
"I didn't know where else to go."
"Promise I'm not playing tricks on you, you're always welcome to come in. You can stay here for an hour or two if you ever need a friend."
The word friend made Harry look up in shock, and appreciation. He denied the blond's hand in friendship years back, and now Draco was offering it again, offering Harry a safe haven in a time of need.
Harry sat down on the sofa and Draco went to make a cup of tea for him. He sat down with a cup of his own coffee and smiled at the brunet.
"We can talk about the noise when you're ready, but till then, I'll say it must have been the wind."
"Must have been the wind?"
"Must have been the wind."
"It must have been the wind."
Harry fell asleep on the sofa that night, in Draco's arms. McLaggen came searching for the brunet and found Draco's flat. When he recognised the blond, he began shouting all kinds of horrible things that made Harry wake up and Draco feel bad, because the things McLaggen shouted were all about Draco's past.
Even so, Draco punched the abusive man in the face and then stupefied him, without anyone else knowing of course. He dragged the unconscious man into his own flat and then spelled him back to the one above.
"I won't let him hurt you."
Two days later, when McLaggen had returned and Draco had to magically restrict him from coming near the flat, Harry was ready to talk about the noise.
"It wasn't the wind." That bit was clear. "I think you could tell, but he, er, he was hurting me. I got with him on a drunken one night stand a while back, and I didn't know it was him. If I'd known- I wouldn't have. I don't remember anything about that night though."
That didn't sit right with Draco at all.
"When I woke up, I- I actually don't remember much of that either, but it was like time moved forward and we were in that apartment upstairs. Everything was hazy up until then. He did something to my magic and that's when we started fighting. He didn't hit me until a week or so later when he told me I couldn't leave the flat."
"It's been months since you guys moved in. Has he just been hurting you knowing you were defenceless that whole time?"
Harry nodded. "Yes, but no. He was nice to me, maybe to try and convince me to stay without having to do anything else. I played along for a while but I just couldn't eventually, and ever since then he's just been hurting me. I've been trying to figure out how to fix my magic this whole time, but I don't know how. I think someone else with magic has to do it for me."
"Finite incantatem?" Draco tested.
Harry closed his eyes and he felt his magic course through his veins. It felt like the first time he did magic on purpose, the first time he produced a patronus. It felt like all the beautiful magical moments of his life and he loved it.
"You did it."
"That was surprisingly simple." Draco laughed. "I'll kill McLaggen if you want. It sounds like he drugged you up until you moved here. Magically, probably."
Harry shrugged, like the things Cormac did didn't affect him. "It makes sense."
"You gonna be okay now?" Draco asked. He didn't think that the Saviour would want to spend any more time with the ex-Death Eater now that his problems were solved.
"I don't know." He sighed. "There's so much he did, and everything that I actually remember- I don't think I'll ever forget all of that."
"Did- did he just hit you, or-"
"I don't want to talk about that."
The words were unsaid, but it was clear McLaggen had done things that Harry didn't want him to do, aside from the physical abuse. It made Draco feel sick. He wanted to protect the Boy Who Lived from anyone who could hurt him, McLaggen especially.
"You're always welcome to stay until you're ready to leave and move in to your own place. What were you doing before you were with him?"
"I lived in a house nearby. Oh fuck, I need to talk to Mione and Ron. I'm sure they'll be worried, considering I haven't spoken to them in months. Do you reckon they looked for me?"
"Definitely."
Harry ran a hand through his hair, his hands shaking as he did so. "Do you have an owl? Maybe a phone. Phones are easier but most wizards like to stay old school."
"Yeah, I do. You remember their numbers?" Draco pulled his phone out.
The brunet nodded. "I need to call Ginny too."
"You guys are still together?" Draco didn't like that, for a reason he couldn't figure out himself. He felt jealous, but didn't recognise the feeling.
"No, we, er, broke up before that night with C- McLaggen. That's why I was drinking. She thought it'd be best if we took a break because I was still struggling with all the war shit and everything before." Harry admitted quietly.
The blond simply nodded in understanding. "You don't have to talk about the noise until you're ready, but till then-"
"I'll say it must have been the wind."
"Must have been the wind."
"Must have been the wind." Harry said softly.
"It must have been the wind." Draco muttered quietly before he left the room to let Harry call his friends and talk to them in private.
Harry was asleep on the sofa when Draco came back, and a week later Harry moved back home. They talked for a while but eventually they stopped talking.
Neither stopped thinking of the other, though.
It was bittersweet to meet each other again, even if it happened because of the wind.