Chapter 11
The next few weeks fell into an easy rhythm of farm work, broken up by breakfast, followed by lunch, followed by a riding lesson, followed by either time spent with Sirius, Hermione, or curled up with a book. Draco had never felt more at peace.
Furthermore, Harry had continued trying. Trying, because Draco still wouldn’t yet consider them friends, but trying nonetheless. They joked and talked during the riding lessons, and they were casually getting to know each other a bit better; warming up to each other. It was definitely slow going, but it was going and that's what mattered.
The knowledge of Harry’s beauty didn’t get any easier to bear, and as Draco mounted his horse that day- Daisy- he saw as Harry stripped his t-shirt off under the sweltering late-july sun, and Draco’s breath stuttered in his chest. Swallowing, he tore his eyes off of Harry and ran a hand down Daisy’s neck, smiling as she snorted and shook her head in response. Daisy was his favourite, he had decided. She was a rich chestnut brown with big eyes you could lose yourself in, and a white cross across her forehead and down her nose. Her favourite food was apples and Draco loved to spoil her, murmuring to her softly as he fed her bag-fulls of the fruit.
Draco could trot easily now, and they were working up to a canter which was an exciting prospect. Draco was getting really into the riding, which Sirius loved. He saw it as the one untainted part of his upbringing, and to have Draco engage in it seemed to bring him great joy. The lesson that day lasted a little longer than an hour before Harry put everything back as it was meant to be, and Draco wandered back to the house to see Sirius.
Two days prior, Sirius had finally worked up the courage to invite Andromeda to the farm, and they were still waiting on a response. She often didn't check her facebook for days at a time, but Sirius was wracked with nerves. Sirius wasn't in the living room or kitchen when Draco got to the house, so he went straight to the study, where Sirius’ eyes were glued to the computer screen.
“Any news?” Draco asked, leaning against the door jamb.
“She said yes!” Sirius replied, his face glowing with joy, a grin stretched wide across his handsome face. Draco felt a strange mix of excitement and apprehension fill him, but pushed down the apprehension to celebrate with Sirius.
“Harry’s birthday is in two days, and I would invite her to that but I worry it’ll steal his thunder. I’ll invite her for next week, and just have a small, intimate family dinner. If that goes well, we can add the Weasley’s and Granger’s into the mix” Sirius said, more to himself than to Draco as he typed out his reply.
“What’s happening for Harry’s birthday?” Draco asked.
“Same as yours, really. Have the gang round for cake and booze. Ron and Hermione'll come round for the whole day and they usually go off gallivanting somewhere around the farm, but they might have decided they're too old for that now, I guess” Sirius responded.
Draco felt an entirely foreign feeling explode in him when he realised that his birthday had been celebrated by Sirius and Remus in the same way that they celebrated for the person who was basically their son. This is what it must feel like to be truly loved by family, Draco thought. He immediately felt guilty for thinking that as he knew his mother loved him, but therein lay the problem- he knew his mother loved him, but he didn't always feel it. In this moment, he felt that he was loved by Sirius and Remus, and it felt good.
“Sounds lovely” Draco said, aware that he was blushing and hoping that Sirius wouldn't work out why. Sirius nodded, smiling at him and Draco guessed that Sirius probably had worked it out-he was annoyingly perceptive at times-, and was just grateful he didn’t say anything. Draco then turned around and went down to the kitchen, preparing himself some biscuits and a cup of tea before going to sit on his little step with his current book. This one was a murder mystery that was so well-written Draco could only read it in daylight hours.
The next day, Ron was waiting outside, which hadn’t happened since his first morning there. Usually Harry came to get him and took him to whatever Weasley brother he might be working alongside.
“Morning lad” Ron said, nodding at Draco before turning and walking the trek to the sheep. “One o’ t’lambs has fallen sick, so you and me are going t’bring him down t’farm house, and Sirius is going t’teach you how to be a lamb’s mam” Ron explained, before chuckling a bit at his rhyme.
The lamb in question was much smaller and spindlier than the others, as they’d been growing steadily for two months now.
“He’s not feeding right, and so not growing right” Ron said as he gathered the lamb up in his arms and set off to carry him back to the farmhouse. The lamb bleated weakly, but soon settled in Rom’s muscly and freckled arms. Once at the farmhouse, Ron led Draco into the kitchen where Sirius was drinking a mug of tea and reading the newspaper. On the table lay a blanket.
“Reet, here” Ron said, setting the lamb down on the table momentarily and arranging Draco’s arms into a sort-of cradle. He then bundled the lamb up in the blanket and placed the lamb gently into Draco’s arms, before motioning to Draco to sit. Ron then went to the fridge, where there were some baby bottles filled with milk. Ron heated one up in the microwave for a few seconds, then tested the temperature on the inside of his elbow, as you would for a human baby. He then gave the bottle to Draco.
“He has t’drink at least half. It’s filled with vitamins and the like. Sirius will help you. Then, jus’ spend t’day with ‘im. He needs a bottle every four hours, alreet?”
Draco nodded dumbly, a bit worried about the responsibility that had just been placed on his shoulders, but then the lamb pressed his face into Draco’s shoulder, and Draco just about fell in love with him, and the day ahead suddenly looked much brighter. He gingerly took the bottle from Ron and placed the teat in the lamb's mouth. The lamb started to suckle immediately, but slowed after about five minutes, and Draco saw that barely two inches of liquid had disappeared. He resigned himself to a long day of animal nursing.
Sirius did help him, showing Draco how to adjust the angle of the bottle to make sure enough milk was coming out, and soon enough Draco was in the swing of it. Sirius found it hilarious, and even dug out an ancient camera to take a photo of Draco and the lamb at the kitchen table, which made Draco laugh a lot.
The two of them spent a wonderful morning together, gossiping and chatting, and Draco refused to put the lamb down when Harry, Ron and Remus came down for breakfast, and instead awkwardly ate his poached eggs on toast one handed, having to stop and smile every time the small fuzzy head of the lamb butted him under the chin. He noticed that Harry kept staring at him, but Draco ignored it, and instead waited for them to leave again before asking Sirius to invite Hermione round, and an hour later she was there.
Hermione and Draco then spent a wonderful few hours chasing the tiny lamb around the little lawn between the cottage and farmhouse as the lamb stumbled around on his spindly legs. Hermione dubbed him ‘Hugo’ and the next time Hugo had to be fed Hermione tried but much like Draco his first go she got the angle wrong, so Draco came up behind to adjust it for her. Unfortunately, Sirius came out at that moment and took another photo, and spent the rest of the time until lunch making fun of the two of them, telling them they were much too young to be parents and “god, Hugo must have been an accident!”
Clearly knowledgeable about the slight romantic tension between Ron and Hermione, Sirius shut up about it the moment everyone came back to eat, which Draco was grateful for. He would hate to be witness to (and part of) yet another argument between the three friends.
Draco then told Harry that he was a father now, and he couldn’t go riding as he had a duty of care to Hugo, which made everyone laugh, and Harry rolled his eyes good-naturedly, which made Draco feel embarrassingly warm inside. He buried his face into Hugo’s little neck to hide the blush that had inevitably risen, before carrying Hugo back out onto the lawn to bask in the sunshine. Hermione came out to join him again with an ancient, battered ipod and a tiny speaker, and played songs that came out sounding slightly tinny and Draco knew in that instant that he really and truly wanted to stay there for as long as he could.
Draco lay on his front, propped up on his elbows so he could watch Hugo wobble around, and Hermione lay sunbathing, her head on his thighs as she read a book she had brought with her, a heavy tome that looked dense and dull. They would chat every now and then, and Sirius would bring them little plates of biscuits and chat with them for a bit, and it was nice.
As day turned to evening, Remus came back and gathered up Hugo in his arms, taking him to stay in a nearby barn overnight, where he had set up a little bed of hay and a heat lamp. Draco and Hermione retired to the cottage and put another film on. Hermione chose Wild Child, and kept asking Draco how his school compared to Abbey Mount.
“A lot more fighting and homophobia” Draco responded a bit grimly, and in response Hermione dropped a little kiss to his cheek and lay her head on his shoulder. Near the middle of the film, Ron knocked, saying that Harry was feeding Hugo and asking if he could come in. he sat on the sofa on the other side of Hermione and immediately got really into it, after Draco paused the film momentarily and Hermione explained in excruciating detail- including quotes- what had happened up to that point.
Whilst watching the scene in the honour court, Draco heard light sniffling and to his delight he saw Ron’s eyes filled with tears when he looked over. Draco smiled and nudged Hermione gently, inclining his head towards Ron. on seeing him, her eyes filled with warmth and she shifted so her head was on Ron’s shoulder instead. As if not wanting Draco to feel left out, she intertwined her fingers with Draco’s. Draco smiled before turning back to the film.
Wild Child finished and just as they were loading up a new one, Harry came in. Draco started to shift to the arm of the sofa closest to him, but instead Ron slid down to his arm of the sofa, dragging Hermione, who in turn dragged Draco, leaving the only free seat for Harry right next to Draco. Then again, calling it a free seat was a stretch. The sofa was not made for a group of four in which two regularly did farm work and thus had the thighs of one and a half people’s worth.
It was a tight squeeze, and Draco felt every single centimetre of his thigh that was pressed snug against Harry’s, and his shoulder that was jammed in next to Harry’s. This was honestly the closest he had ever been to Harry, and Draco was all too aware of that.
They decided on Hot Fuzz, after Harry expressed distaste for whatever film Hermione had already chosen, and Draco felt the minute Harry relaxed into watching. The introduction was over and Harry sighed, his body going lax and legs spreading a bit, so his thighs were pressed even tighter to Draco’s.
Draco felt fourteen again with how hot the air felt, how tight his clothes. He barely registered anything happening in the first half of the film, all too aware of Harry’s soft breathing. The second half was even worse. Harry’s breathing deepened and evened out, and Ron looked over and muttered “for fucks sake, he always does this.” Which Draco assumed meant Harry usually fell asleep whenever they watched films. It was all okay until Draco felt a weight on his shoulder and thick hair tickling his neck and he realised that Harry had dropped his head down to use Draco’s shoulder as a pillow whilst he slept.
His hair felt impossibly soft against Draco’s neck and jaw and it smelt of coconut and Draco forgot how to breathe a little bit. The rest of the film was spent tensing every time Harry shifted and berating himself for being so pathetic.
Claiming tiredness, Draco turned down dinner when it was ready and instead curled up into bed early, feeling young and raw and exposed. He almost felt thirteen again, realising he was gay and hating it but this was different. Curling up in bed feeling impossibly alone was the same but this was heavier, deeper. It was scarier, now that being gay wasn't an abstract part of himself he thought he could eradicate, but rather a state of being he wished to fully embrace but was too scared to.
He resolved to talk to Sirius about it- leaving Harry out of it, of course- he felt so adrift. So far away from the only place he had known as home yet feeling more comfortable than ever. It was a confusing, hollowing, guilt inducing feeling. It sat with him until he fell into a shaky, uneasy sleep.