Chapter 8
Draco accompanied Pansy and Remus back to the station late the next morning, and clung to her on the train platform as if she was his lifeline.
“I’ll come back to visit before the summer ends, and again in autumn” she promised, as she gripped him back just as tightly. Too soon, the whistle indicating the train's imminent departure blew, and he had to let her go. He stood and watched until the train was a speck on the horizon, before he felt Remus’ hand land on his shoulder.
“She can come back ‘n visit anytime, lad” he said, the deep cadence of his voice comforting, and Draco was distracted from his sadness of seeing Pansy go by just desperately wishing Sirius and Remus could have been his father’s instead. Sighing, he let Remus gently turn him and lead him back to the car, and they drove back in peaceful silence, occasionally broken by gentle conversation, Remus inquiring as to how he knew Pansy, and what made them such close and strong friends.
They got back in time for lunch, where Sirius asked whether Draco had liked his birthday, and Draco enthusiastically affirmed.
Harry ate quickly and left, grunting something about seeing to his pigs, leaving the kitchen faster than Draco had ever seen him.
“There’s summat up with him” Remus murmured to Sirius, who nodded, brow furrowed in thought. Draco kept eating, eyes on the day-old newspaper on the table next to him, pretending he couldn’t hear.
“Hermione mentioned coming over later, I’ll get her to talk to him” Sirius murmured back, and Remus nodded before standing and stretching. He nodded to Draco, making his earring glint in the sunlight that was streaming through the windows, and left the kitchen.
Sirius continued to look distracted, likely by thoughts of Harry’s behaviour, and barely looked up when Draco excused himself to return to his little cottage. He was slowly but surely making his way through every book on the bookshelf, and spent a lot of time either sitting on the little stoop at the front, laying on the lawn, curled up on the sofa or sitting on his windowsill in his bedroom reading. He fell into the books for hours at a time in the afternoon, using the escapism to distract from aching muscles and homesickness, and this afternoon he needed it to distract himself from missing Pansy.
The next thing to bring him out of his book was a light knock on his door. Looking out the window, he saw the light had dimmed considerably as the day bled into evening and he assumed it was Harry calling him for dinner, but instead it was Hermione. She was in a long, hippie-like skirt and baggy sweatshirt, holding a backpack.
He stepped aside to let her in but instead of walking past him she hugged him, which was a nice surprise. Draco finally felt like he’d made a friend. She then sat on the sofa and patted the cushion next to him, motioning for him to sit with her.
“I bought my portable dvd player and some films. I thought we could watch one?” she said, rummaging in her bag and pulling out something that looked vaguely like a laptop, and various dvds.
“Right. I hope you don’t think I’m stereotyping, these are just genuinely my favourites” she said very sincerely, as if Draco would be offended she only bought chic flics because he was gay. She had brought with her Pitch Perfect, 10 things I Hate About You, It's a Boy Girl thing, and some others that Draco hadn’t seen before.
They settled on Its a Boy Girl thing, but most of it was spent with Hermione ranting about the classist and sexist stereotypes, despite her having said it was one of her favourites. When he teased her about this she said; “I watched this before I fully understood how it was problematic and I loved it so, so much, and still do, I just have to consume it critically” and Draco was beginning to see that she took everything very seriously. He liked it about her.
They sat pressed against each other on the sofa, the little dvd machine balanced on Draco’s legs. At some point, she laid her head on his shoulder and he felt all warm at the proof that she genuinely liked him and felt comfortable with him. After the film ended they chatted for a bit, and Hermione drew her head off his shoulder but immediately threw her legs over his thighs and he was once again left to marvel at how quickly she had taken to him, and what a lovely feeling it was.
Their conversation was cut short when there was a strong knock at the door, and Draco opened it to see Harry there.
“Hermione, what are you doing here?” Harry asked, looking displeased.
“Spending time with Draco, what does it look like?” Hermione replied somewhat coldly, and Draco silently cheered at being defended so quickly.
“I assume it's dinner?” Draco asked to cut the tension and Harry nodded before turning around and walking back to the house. Hermione just hooked her arm through Draco’s and they walked back together. Sirius looked somewhat surprised to see them arrive together but Remus just smiled and Draco got the feeling that Remus was under-appreciated as a silent observer, and likely knew everything there was to know about everyone in his life.
Hermione sat next to Draco, on the opposite side and other end of the table to Harry, who looked somewhat hurt. Remus looked between them, but he wasn’t frowning this time. Sirius looked confused and Draco watched as Remus leant over and whispered something in his ear, and the furrow in Sirius’ brow immediately smoothed out.
When they had finished eating, Hermione dragged Draco out of the kitchen before Harry had the chance to say anything to her, and back to the cottage, where they went back to getting to know each other a bit better. Draco was learning that Hermione was quite a tactile person, like Pansy. She was always touching him, whether she was hanging her legs over his, or resting her head on his shoulder, or playing with his fingers while she spoke. It was nice. Her touch was reassuring.
She kept glancing through the living room window that faced the farm house, and after an hour she heaved a deep sigh.
“I really thought he’d come here to find us. God, he pisses me off so much sometimes.” she said, more to herself than to Draco.
“Who, Harry?” Draco asked. She nodded and shifted closer to him on the sofa until their hips were aligned and touching. She leant her head on his shoulder and he rested his cheek atop her hair.
“He’s very protective of his little family, you know? And no offence but we all know what Sirius’ family are like. I hope this doesn’t offend you but we had a month's worth of weekly dinners where the conversation was dominated by whether he was actually going to let you stay here or not” she said, and Draco stiffened somewhat.
“I think the fact that Sirius refers to me as his cousin and does not specify that I never even met his mother or father doesn't help my case much” Draco said and he felt Hermione nod.
“Yea, see? I didn’t even know that until just now. And Harry has a lot of trouble with outsiders, especially ones that come with the same connotations as you”
“And what would those connotations be?” Draco asked.
“Racism” Hermione said with a sigh. “Sirius’ family always disapproved of his friendship with James because of his race, and I don't know if anyone told you what happened to his parents, but eighteen months after Harry was born his mum and dad were killed in a racially motivated attack in a village called Godric’s Hollow, about an hour’s drive away. His mum’s family lived there, and his parents were visiting.”
Draco drew in a breath and reached for Hermione’s hand, his long fingers wrapping around her small slender ones. She clutched back tightly.
“I think since then he’s always subconsciously associated Sirius’ family with the people who took his parents away. And whilst I think it was a fair pre-conception for him to have, the minute you proved you weren't like them he should have treated you with more kindness”
“I mean, I can understand why he didn't,” Draco said softly.
“I know but it's just, it isn't fair. You must have felt so isolated here. You only really talk to Sirius, and sometimes Remus, and they’re twenty years older than you, and even that only happened recently. You spent a month practically by yourself and surrounded by strangers. That must have been hell”
“It wasn't the best, but you’re making up for it, and I didn't have many friends back home, I wasn't exactly the nicest person at school, so I’m used to entertaining myself, and there’s a lot of books here”
“Oh, Draco, that's so sad” Hermione breathed and Draco chuckled, releasing her hand and draping his arm around her shoulders. She cuddled into his side and said “well I’m your friend. Fuck boys, who needs them?” and Draco laughed and agreed, secretly suspecting her declaration may also have had something to do with a certain Ron Weasley.
Of course, it was at this point that Harry finally decided to grace them with his presence and he opened the door and just stood in the doorway, mouth open.
“Really Hermione, him? You’re going to get with him?” he said, venom lacing his tone.
“Tell me, Harry, is it any of your business who I get with?” Hermione said, and Draco felt her tense beneath him.
Feeling guilty for getting in the way of the two friends, Draco sat up a bit and said “I’m gay, Harry, so I was never going to get with her, and regardless, I think you owe Hermione an apology. She’s right, its none of your business”
Harry had the decency to look sheepish, and opened his mouth to say something-hopefully an apology- but before he could Hermione stood and turned to Draco.
“I had a lovely evening, Draco and I hope to see you again soon. Harry, come with me” and she grabbed his arm, basically frog-marching him out of the cottage. Draco grinned at her matronly-ness and got up to get ready for bed (and possibly try and hear their conversation from his bedroom).
As he was stripping off his t-shirt he heard voices and smirked. He felt bad for overhearing, but he argued that given it was likely about him it was fair.
“I tried to apologise” came Harry’s protestation to whatever Hermione had said.
“Harry James Potter. Telling someone you have been told to apologise to them is possibly the worst way to apologise, and what have you done since then? You’ve ignored him, and then gotten angry when I choose to spend time with him. Do better”
“But you know what they did to Sirius” Harry said weakly.
“And Sirius has forgiven him. Do you think Sirius wants you to hold his grudges for him, or do you think Sirius is actually quite disappointed that you’re acting like a child towards his own family when he raised you to do better?” Hermione scolded and Draco pitied any and all of her future children. She spoke like a seasoned mother already, and she was only twenty.
“I hate that you’re always right.” Harry sighed.
“And I hate that you’re still this immature. We’re not children anymore, Harry. Draco has done nothing to you, but you’ve done a lot to him since he’s been here, and you need to fix that.” Hermione said, voice unforgiving and Draco heard Harry heave a sigh. Deciding he’d heard enough, Draco quietly closed the window and pulled his sleep shorts on. Just as he was climbing into bed there was yet another knock at the door.
“It's bloody party central here” he grumbled to himself as he left his bedroom to go and open it. Hermione stood on the doorstep holding a bundle of blankets.
“I’m mad at him. Can I sleep on your sofa?” she asked, looking even younger than him at that moment despite the year she had on him. He also wished he had put a top on before opening the door.
“Of course. Make yourself comfortable” he said, helping her arrange the blankets and pillows before going back to his bed and finally falling asleep.
The next morning, Harry woke him and Hermione up and told Draco they had cows to milk, and told Hermione that Sirius was waiting for her in the big house. The tension between them was palpable and Draco felt distinctly uncomfortable. The feeling only grew as he and Harry walked to the milking barn together in complete silence. Harry kept shooting little glances at him that Draco noticed but said nothing about, and Harry set about preparing the cows, still having said nothing to Draco. This was worse than the beginning, Draco decided as he set about opening the little gates to let the cows through.
The rest of the morning lasted in much the same manner. Harry would only speak if issuing instructions, and for the rest of it only the sound of their breaths and footsteps filled the air as they moved bags of feed for the chickens and did some health checks on the lambs. Hermione ate breakfast with them when they returned to the farmhouse at about ten, and then went home.
After breakfast, Draco followed Remus instead as they checked over the horses, and he and Remus made pleasant conversation about Pansy, how Draco was missing her, when she should come up next and the like. It was a nice change from the morning, and Draco relished it, talking more than he was helping and mainly just watching Remus do most of the work, which the other man seemed happy to do.
Then it was back for a simple lunch of sandwiches and leftover cake- not that there was much- and Draco was faced with his free afternoon. Or at least he was, until Harry cornered him and asked if they could talk. Not wishing to seem disagreeable, Draco acquiesced and followed Harry, who led them right into the copse of apple trees on the very outskirts of the farm.
Once there, instead of talking, Harry dug out a small tin from his pocket and sat on a log. He opened the tin and Draco was a little shocked to see him start rolling a joint. Harry did so expertly, and as annoyed as Draco was with the man it was annoyingly sexy.
Draco sat on another log about an arm’s length with Harry, and watched him light the joint and inhale deeply, before tilting his head back and blowing smoke up to the sky. That too, was annoyingly sexy and Draco sighed, holding his hand out. Harry passed him and joint and watched with a bemused expression as Draco inhaled deeply, holding the smoke in his lungs for a beat before exhaling it upwards too, cocking an eyebrow when Harry looked surprised.
“What, did you think I’d cough? City boy’s never smoked weed before?” Draco said mockingly.
“Honestly? Yeah” Harry replied, holding his hand out for the joint. Draco kept it a bit longer though, taking a second inhale and relishing a little in making Harry wait before passing it back. Harry smoked with his eyes closed for a few minutes, and Draco drank in the sight before him.
“I’m not good at this,” Harry said after a bout of silence, eyes still closed.
“No shit, Sherlock” Draco mumbled, stealing the joint from between Harry’s fingers. Harry frowned briefly.
“You’re not making it easier, Draco” he replied.
“You haven’t made this summer easy on me” Draco retorted, and Harry’s face tightened as he nodded. “Yea, that’s fair, I s’pose” Harry responded, finally cracking one eye open and looking at Draco. Draco just rolled his eyes and said nothing, waiting for Harry to finally gather up the courage.
Harry kept smoking, occasionally passing the joint to Draco until it was finished, until he said anything.
“I don't like strangers,” Harry said plainly, eyeing Draco. “And you’re one of t’strangest of t’lot. Sirius and Remus are the only family I have, and the same goes for them. To have you waltz in ‘ere as if you had some sort o’... deeper connection to Sirius and I just didn’t like you. Didn’t like it. Didn’t like the thought of some posh twat waltzing in and fucking everything up.” here Harry let out a humourless laugh and kept going.
“And Sirius, see he gets so bad about his family, you know? What they did to him. What your people did to ‘im, and I didn’t want you coming anywhere near ‘im. And god, when you and him started becoming all friendly like? I hated it. He’s mine, you know? He’s my fake dad, not yours. And you’ve got parents. It felt like you were taking ‘im away from me.”
Draco breathed deeply. His head felt soft and fuzzy, so at odds with Harry’s heavy diatribe.
“My dad hates me. Hates that I’m gay. Sirius is the first man in my family to ever care for me, or make me feel wanted.” Draco murmured quietly, watching Harry’s eyes widen in shock from beneath lowered, heavy eyelids.
“Sirius and Remus are the first gay couple I’ve ever met, and they’re happy. My dad used to tell me gay people weren’t allowed to be happy. That they didn’t deserve it. I’m sorry for invading your space but I didn’t choose to come here, I was sent away, I was unwanted back at home. To have Sirius talk to me like a real person is the best thing that’s ever happened to me”
“Draco, I-” Harry tried to say, looking pained.
“I’m not sure if you noticed, but my father didn’t even send me a birthday card. Just because I have ‘real’ parents doesn’t mean they love me” Draco finished, not letting Harry get a word in. his volume had not risen above a low murmur, and with that he stood up and walked away. He was too tired to deal with the can of worms that was his father, but that conversation had opened it up.
Maybe it was cruel of him to compare his father to Harry’s dead parents but Harry had Sirius and Remus and Draco had a mother who may have loved him but had only ever said it to him five times in recent memory. She had sent him a birthday card but hadn't offered to come up and see him. She had sent him away for months. That wasn't really good mothering, was it, Draco thought as he trudged back to the cottage, not noticing any of his surroundings.
Once there, he curled up in bed on top of the duvet, fully clothed, and fell into a fitful sleep. When Remus came to get him for dinner, he said he wasn't feeling well enough.
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