The Truth
The truth, once given, can be a truly awful thing to own.
Because once you have the truth, there is the quick rush of triumph at predicting it, paired with the dopamine released from any good gift, but the guilt doesn’t waste it’s time either, especially when every day the Quartet has to trudge their way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, sit down and watch as Barty gives his daily speech on the horrors of Death Eaters and being an Auror fighting against them was a dirty job and all that.
They couldn’t say anything. Hermione even found herself having to restrain from answering questions all day because she wasn’t sure, even out of this classroom, if opening her mouth would cause her to burst out the truth.
Ron started twitching like mad halfway through the day following the reveal, and then all throughout May, until Pansy and her Quidditch boys started calling him Weasel, alongside their usual calling of Ferret towards Malfoy.
Speaking of, Draco was a huge mess, calling off lessons with Moody and refusing to practice for the next Task outside of classes, instead reading all newspapers and records he could find on Barty Crouch Jr’s life and trial, the circles now seemingly stuck beneath his eyes darkening every day.
Harry was suffering just as much as his friends were. Gone was the lovesickness, because there were far more important things to worry about than the sparkling of Draco’s skin, and gone was the happiness he’d relished in for the better parts of this year, something he hadn’t felt as long as he did at any year in his life. Now he was stuck with the usual solitude, asking the world why people kept betraying him. Resigning himself to the truth that he was destined to have contributed to Voldemort’s return.
He hadn’t hated Crouch Jr before. Not really. He’d recognized how the boy had been torn away from his family, scared and broken by prison, and gone insane, and that that’s what Voldemort did--tear people from families. This was strengthened by him seeing that Draco had been a boy destined to parrot his family's beliefs all along. His hate had centered on one man and one man only, Lord Voldemort.
But now he fell asleep every night, rolled over onto his side, watching Neville snoring soundly, and knew that Crouch Jr had been just as awful all along. He’d even tried to extend an olive branch to not just Draco, but Neville too, despite ruining both their lives, even if it was years apart. This man wasn’t just freakishly insane, but a monster too. A cruel, sick, sick, monster.
Hagrid showed the Champions the maze on May 1st. Harry and Draco tried to look as concentrated as the others around them, but couldn’t focus.
Viktor took Hermione on a boat ride across the lake for their twentieth date on May 9th, and placed a lily floating on the water in her hair, and kissed her on the cheek, but she gave no energy into the peck back, only fidgeting in the boat as she watched a beetle land on another lily floating a few feet away, hardly even having enough energy in herself to try and catch it.
Ron played Quidditch with his siblings on May 15th against some of the other Gryffindor and Hufflepuff friends they had and lost embarrassingly because he spotted Hugo, Anya, and Fernando, and Cedric in the small crowd of students watching and fell off his broom from the reminder that Moody had gotten them all kicked out of the Tournament, and taken away Cedric’s ability to walk for Merlin knows how long.
Draco sat in the Slytherin Common Room on May 25th, a month after the revelation, staring into the fire with an unopened book in his hands, ignoring the passive aggressive comments or insults he got from Pansy’s friends, or the not so mean things his own ‘friends’ attempted to say to him before giving up and walking away. Instead he sat there, simply staring, alone and empty.
Harry sat in his own Common Room at the same time, turning his wand over in his hands, frowning at the fireplace, tense and uncertain as the laughs of the Gryffindor’s echoed in his head while they played with Fred and George’s products or read the newspaper they had now spearheaded in Draco’s absence. Draco, who he tried to think about. To savor. To admire. But when he did, he just imagined Voldemort’s wand. The green light that fills his deepest nightmares. Moody’s voice in that first class back in September yelling those two words.
Avada Kedavra…
Draco.
It was his birthday in June, he remembered, rather abruptly, and with that reminder came the resolve to stand. The resolve to wipe the unshed tears from his eyes, turn, and march up the stairs to his dorm to get ready. Resolve that on that special boy's special day, which may be his last with how this year was going, he was going to have a good and happy one. A simple one. A day Draco’s probably never had in his life.
-*-*-*-
Draco wakes up on June 5th and doesn’t feel fifteen. More like he feels like a fully grown adult man, maybe even an old man, who's been through hell and back and deserves nothing less than sleep and to insult any optimistic guy he meets. Which, in hindsight, is not a good way to feel on his birthday. But it’s his birthday, right? He can feel however he wants.
Which is why his first response to a bunch of heads surrounding him when he wakes up yelling, “Happy Birthday!” is, “Bloody hell… Don’t you all have classes?” and a spark to each of their arses with his wand for good measure, once he has the energy to crawl himself out of bed.
Downstairs, on the table in front of the fire, are several gifts, predictably, and over the mantelpiece hangs a banner reading, ‘Happy Birthday Draco!’ with an awful drawing of him riding a squid next to it. He opens the gifts rather hurriedly, which aren’t all that bad, but could be most certainly better, just because he’s in a bad mood.
From Blaise came a passive aggressive book called Pride and Prejudice (it was muggle but looked quite intriguing either way, not that he’d ever admit it). Theodore had also gotten him a book, but this one was a fictitious but wizarding book on magical creatures written by Newt Scammander, whom he had to have noticed Draco had become fond of. Vincent and Gregory had to help each other make the perfect gift of a knitted scarf and hat patterned with snitches, brooms, and unicorns, which was very below the Malfoy standards but still quite nice. Finally came his parents' gifts, which he hadn’t been looking forward to one bit, and instantly met his predetermined bad expectations, as his father neglected to give anything personal.
New robes of course, just his size, emblazoned with the Malfoy insignia and motto beneath, then the usual box of chocolates from various parts of the world. Only the best for their only son. The personal stuff came next, and Mother never failed, sending a music box with a miniature running, porcelain unicorn, which was no doubt priceless, and a sweet letter about how much she was proud of all he had accomplished this year, and how ashamed she and Father were of themselves. Tied to this letter was a family photo he’d never seen before, that made his heart sink like a rock into the depths of his stomach.
Narcissa was sitting young and beautiful on a sofa in what was unmistakably the Drawing Room, smiling with the sunshine of a mother who’d seen a lot less than the one now, or was too happy to care about it, beside a man near unrecognizable. Lucius’ hair just reached his shoulders now, was hardly kept, and a Death Eater mask still lay on his lap, but the smile was there, even on the tired and scarred face, just the same as his wife’s.
Standing behind the couch, leaned against it with a wine glass and a grin not yet holding madness, was Aunt Bellatrix, gorgeous in this time and never again since. But completing the picture, and resulting in the further shattering of Draco’s soul, was what they all were so happy about.
Kneeling on the floor and holding a chubby blonde baby Draco, was a sandy haired, grisled teenager in full Death Eater robes, holding the boy up with a grin that matched everyone in the room; a whole, natural, childish grin Draco hardly recognized on what had become a madenned face.
We’re so very sorry, but you must understand this is how he was. He was a very different man then, Draco. We all were.
He stuffed the picture in his pocket and gathered his gifts in a heap, trudging upstairs and stuffing them in his trunk.
What a load of Merlin’s arse.
-*-*-*-
Seeing Draco practically stomping to classes and pushing away any student who dared to sing to him was… disheartening, to say the least. And as the hours wore on, even Ron and Hermione’s repeated encouragement that he would love the gifts and the party couldn’t keep Harry’s spirits up, but he persisted anyway. Or attempted to.
“Between him looking pissed and you looking like a depressed crup, I’d be surprised if anyone enjoys the party tonight.” Ron had whispered in Care of Magical Creatures while Draco only half heartedly fed his litter of Kneazles, which hadn’t made Harry that happy about his upcoming gift one bit.
Nor did his tea leaves in Divination.
Nor did even the potatoes at dinner (and he oh so loved those potatoes).
And before he knew it he was being practically dragged up to the Gryffindor Common room for the party by his friends, and half heartedly arranging decorations with a sense of foreboding doom.
“He’ll hate it.” He was just mumbling to himself as he adjusted the green and silver banner with his wand, and an unexpected visitor sidled up to him. “He’ll hate it, he’ll hate it, he’ll--” “No he won’t.” Harry nearly jumped out of his own skin as he spun around and came face to face with Tess Whitlock, smirking at him.
“Calm down, I’m not going to murder you. I’m still in the Tournament, sure, but I’m not that crazy about winning.” Harry released a breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding and smirked back, nodding. “Right… Sorry.” “Don’t be, after a year of that… I can understand the jumpiness, and I’m of age! I can’t imagine how you must feel.”
That’s right, she couldn’t, so couldn’t she be better than the others in his life and just drop it at least?
“Anyway, Hermione told me you were worried about Malfoy liking the party. Is that correct?” Harry gulped, nodding. How many people knew? How many knew of the party? Would Draco even be surprised?
“Well, you shouldn’t be. He’s in a bad mood, sure, but if anything this’ll just make it better, right?” “That’s what they’re all saying…” Harry groaned, shaking his head and turning to fiddle with the green and silver curtain on the windows instead.
“Maybe… But how about this; a couple months back, I was meeting Percy’s family officially because, well, that’s what you do when you're dating a guy you really like, right? And Fred and George’s birthdays were coming up on April 1st, so naturally, I wanted to throw a party to show how much I respected this family. Not to mention everyone deserves a party. Percy warned me they were in a bad mood, what with all that gold they lost to Ludo Bagman… But I persisted. I knew the only way to make them happy would be to give them a break from all the black mail they were doing, and that ridiculous paper Malfoy warped them into to regain the lost money. And, sure enough, they did enjoy it, and have been dancing away life ever since. Think of this party as a wake up call for Malfoy, Harry. Trust me, he’ll enjoy it.”
And with that she spun on her heel and left, beaming when she saw Percy reluctantly climbing through the portrait hole and running over to pull him into a tight embrace, and Harry was left standing, dumbstruck and alone, holding curtains that were half red and half green. But, hey, they sort of looked better this way.
-*-*-*-
Draco, in hindsight, should have expected something was off the moment he received the invitation, but he knew the other members of the Quartet were dealing with things, and pretty stressed out, so naturally he thought nothing of a suspicious invitation to meet in the Gryffindor Common Room at first.
Emphasis on at first.
Because then he started to notice the early signs, such as students skittering away when they saw him, which he originally marked off as normal behavior. I mean, they had been doing that since First Year, right? But then there was the slow absence of kids at all in the halls, and the portraits giving him odd looks or snickering as he passed. Still, he hardly believed it would be this.
“SURPRISE!”
And yet here he stood at the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Rooms, banners and curtains strung up for him, people all gathered in party hats and clapping for him, but not laughing or jeering, just genuinely happy to see him.
“Er…” Before he could even get out, “What’s going on?” Harry had smacked a party hat on him from behind, nearly causing him a heart attack, and hugged him around the waist. “Happy Birthday, Draco!”
“Happy--HUH?!” He took in what all the banners and curtains actually read, and gaped as he realized that all these people had indeed gathered for his birthday, complete with a toppling pile of gifts sitting on a table in front of the hearth. “You… did all of this… For me?” He looked around at the crowd of grins, before settling his gaze on Fred and George, whose hands were both in perfect, harmless view, no pie in sight, clapping together with everyone else.
Beside him, Harry turned him to face him and winked. “Oh course we did. It is your birthday after all, right?” Draco gave him a deadpan expression. “No, Potter, it isn’t. There, you can all go home, you came for nothing.” The crowd began to laugh, while Neville abruptly stopped clapping and glanced around, jaw dropped. “What…?” Seamus merely slapped him on the shoulder, neglecting giving an explanation other than that.
Then, with Fred’s declaration of, “WHO WANTS TO PARTY?!” the party officially began, and drinks were spread out as Draco was led to his cake, which was admirable, really. About the height of a house elf, who sat beside it, grinning in the same way he recognized by the thousands of times he’d used it at the Manor. Dobby had painted the cake white and green, the green making up a different pattern on the five layers--first, a ferret fighting a dragon. Second, a boy riding a squid. Third, a game of Quidditch in the sky. Fourth, a boy climbing up a pyramid. And fifth, all of Draco’s friends gathered around as he had Harry lift the Triwizard Cup in the air.
Draco finds himself grinning for the first time since the revelation a month ago, and he shows that grin to his proud new friend, ruffling the little hair on Dobby’s head and nodding. “Thanks.”
“Well go on then, make a wish.” Dean said impatiently, while Ron commented, “Yeah, we aren’t gonna wait around all night watching you get sappy. We want cake!” A couple other Gryffindor’s repeated the, “We want cake!” sentiment, this time with pumping fists, and Draco raised his hands in surrender, sitting down in front of the massive structure.
“Okay, okay, here goes…”
But what would he even wish for? He could wish for a lot of things, honestly; namely, Voldemort not returning, Barty dropping dead, winning the tournament, Harry being safe, his dad saying ‘I’m proud--’
Harry.
Though his eyes were closed, Draco could still peek at the boy through his lashes, and smile a little at the way he simply glowed, illuminated by the fifteen candles on this massive cake. Yes, he knew exactly what he’d wish for.
A breath of air, a release, and then the candles were all out, and as soon as Draco opened his eyes they were applauding. He tried to find Harry’s green eyes in the crowd of grins and cheers, and did indeed meet those famous almond shaped gems, known only for the woman they came from but rarely the boy who uses them now, and in that moment, he was almost positive, he forgot Barty Crouch Jr even existed, there was just the boy in front of him, and the people around him of course, and he was fifteen, and it felt brilliant.
Everyone decided gifts needed to be taken care of fast and quick because there were just so many, so next thing he knew Draco was shuffled over to the couch and Harry and Hermione sat down on either side of him, Ron squeezing in beside Harry, Ginny propping herself up on an armrest, Cedric rolling up on his wheelchair beside the other armrest, his Ravenclaw girlfriend behind him, Percy and Tess cuddling in an armchair, (much to the formers siblings displeasure and gagging) and Fleur sitting primly in the opposite one, while Viktor stood behind the couch, one hand on Hermione’s shoulder, which she held tight, Ron doing his best to ignore it.
All the other Gryffindor’s settled for various spots around them, be it on the floor, at tables, or dragging over more chairs, and Fred and George stayed in the middle of the presents, passing them to Draco like Father Christmas himself.
They knew how to build up suspense, starting with the gifts from people Draco hardly knew; A silver watch with a snake pattern on the face from Seamus and Dean, who no doubt thought they’d pass a gift sense he’d never been awful to them; a baby Venomous Tentacula from Neville that he couldn’t tell was meant to be rude or thoughtful; an infinite trunk for magical beasts from his cousin Luna, who everyone had been avoiding all party but softened to when he sent her a smile; and, a little more nice and complex, the twins had gifted him a set of quills that wrote on their own, so he wouldn’t have to use so many charms anymore for Malfoy’s Hogwarts News..
Then came his true friends. Cedric gave him way too many Wiggenweld potions for the Final Task that everyone immediately pointed out both Draco and Harry combined wouldn’t be able to carry on them, but he merely shrugged. Fleur and Tess teamed with a broom care kit fit not for his Nimbus 2001 but his new Firebolt and Viktor gave him a signed t-shirt, which Ron instantly was up and arms about, both because this was the second betrayal of the year as he had still not gotten anything signed and he had no clue Draco even likes Krum. Speaking of, Ron gave him invisible ink while Hermione gave him a book on the history of redeemed Dark Wizards, which he hugged tight and nodded at her for, a silent thank you.
Finally came Harry, who was handed two packages. He was reaching forward to the smaller, roughly wrapped one when the box with suspicious holes in it started to shake so he instead slammed that on the ground, cursing but forcing a smile through gritted teeth, nodding for Draco to open it.
He did, however so suspiciously, and immediately gaped as a Kneazle of the palest white he’d ever seen leaped out, jumping onto his lap instantly.
“What--”
“I know you like ‘em.” Harry said, and the blonde’s head snapped over to him, eyes wide. “Huh?” “Kneazles. But I also know you used up all your allowance and are giving the profits for the paper solely to Fred and George. So there was no way you could get it, and I didn’t know what else to get you so--”
“I love it.” Harry beamed like the morning sun, and it made Draco feel warm inside too. “Good. That’s good. Er--You should--erm--pet it.” “Oh yes!”
Remembering that there was indeed a cat in his lap, Draco began to pet the Kneazle, calming her instantly with his slim and slow fingers, smiling to himself affectionately as she licked his fingertips. “I’ll call you… Altais.” He said, and Altais meowed loudly in response, which made him giggle.
“Altais?” Ron questioned, eyebrows raised, and Draco nodded. “That’s a star in the Draco constellation, right Draco?” Hermione asked and he nodded once more, though was mostly focussing on petting the cat. “Wait, you're named after a constellation?” “Ronald, you do pay attention in Astronomy, right?”
The two fell into a squabble and Draco looked away from his new pet just long enough to lock eyes with Harry once more, whispering “thank you”, and slipping his other hand towards his. The Gryffindor shivered as the Slytherin squeezed, but nodded. “Happy Birthday,” He pulled back a bit of his robes, revealing the badge from Christmas, still right on his chest and shining brightly in the firelight. “Friend.”
They stayed looking at each other, frozen, for a few minutes too long before Draco looked down and pointed at the mismatched, messily wrapped package left in Harry's hands, eyebrows rising. "What's that?"
"Oh right! This! Ha ha, how could I forget…" ignoring the way his stomach started to churn once more, Harry practically shoved the gift at the blonde, who began unwrapping it earnestly. "This is a… late Christmas gift, I guess? As soon as Ron's mum found out all you've been doing for us she sent this over, and we've been keeping it in preparation for your birthday ever since."
Draco lifted the jumper from the wrappings and felt his jaw hit the floor. He'd seen the Weasley's wearing these, and Potter. It was a marking of their family. So why was he now holding a brilliantly blue jumper with a silvery 'D?' The truth hit him hard in the heart like a Depulso hex, and he hugged the piece of cloth to his chest tightly, then hugged his new cat too, than set them down safely on the floor and stood, pulling Hermione, Harry, and Ron all up in a big hug, causing them all to choke and gasp in his surprisingly strong grip.
“Merlin! Malfoy not so tight--” Ron yelled, trying to squirm loose from the blonde’s grip.
“Goodness--Draco! You're squeezing me!” Hermione squealed, giggling but still a little uncomfortable in the tightness.
But Harry simply laughed, burying his head in pale blonde locks as the other boy did the same in tangled black hair, whispering, “Thank you, thank you, thank you…”
When Draco finally let them all go and stepped back, a twitchy little third year instantly sprung out of the crowd, exclaiming, “How about a picture with all the Champions! Before the Final Task?” And Harry shrugged, nodding. “Yeah, that sounds like a great idea, Colin.” He said, along with the other Champions agreements, including Draco.
So the whole group arranged themselves in front of the fireplace, but didn’t pose formally or practiced like they had for Rita Skeeter, instead being comfortable with each other. Anya stood on one end, her boyfriend scooped up in her arms bridal style, and Krum stood beside them, wincing but obviously happy as Hugo ruffled his hair. Fleur stood front and center, trying to smile professionally and ignore Fernando behind her, giving bunny ears over her head and a second peace sign to the camera with his fingers. Cedric’s wheelchair was next, which Tess leaned against the back of, smirking. Finally, Harry and Draco stood at the end, handholding, cloaks discarded to show how Draco had pulled on his blue Weasley jumper over his uniform, beaming with a joy no one had ever seen him exhibit before, not even during that year
And everyone loved it. Sure the photo didn’t move, as it was a muggle picture, but it was perfect, and Harry duplicated it instantly--ever the Transfiguration guy--so each Champion would have one. Oh and Colin got to keep his, of course.
Draco started that day, week, month, maybe even this year with low expectations for others, and high ones for himself from his father, naturally. He started it with a lot less knowledge he now regretted knowing, but also with a lot less friends. But as he lay on his bed that night, smiling at the picture in his hands before tucking it under his pillow and blowing out his candle light, he knew that he wouldn’t give up this year for anything.