Harry's Flat
APPROVED.
Harry sighed as he read the letter, approving rotation with Auror Dawlish for Draco Malfoy’s protection, and therefore formally adding him as an auror in the case of God’s Wrath.
Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione sat down the evening that Harry had reacquainted himself with Teddy to work out a schedule for the boy.
Mondays and Wednesdays, Auror Dawlish is to be with Draco in the afternoon through the evening, so that Harry can pick Teddy up from Willow Buds and stay with him, then drop him off the next morning and be with Draco.
Tuesdays, Thurdays, and Sundays, Ginny was to be with Teddy. On Fridays and Saturdays, Ron and Hermione would take up watching Teddy.
This also meant that Harry would have to re-open owl communications unrelated to the Ministry, something he absolutely was not looking forward to. He only hoped that the Owl Post would be amenable to blocking communications from anyone not on the list of people he deemed acceptable, that way he wouldn’t be flooded with communications from strangers the way he was as soon as the war ended.
Harry was finding it difficult to tell Draco the news. Thinking of telling him gave him an uncomfortable sensation beneath his skin. He wasn’t entirely sure why.
Most of Thurday was spent with Harry thinking of how to talk to Draco, and Draco cleaning, checking doors, and sleeping.
Harry supposed he might need to be more involved in whatever was in Draco’s head, too, after he’d opened up so much three days ago.
Harry had wanted to kiss him again so badly, as they spoke. He wanted to hold him close, to feel their skin against each others, to show him what he thinks of his morality.
Harry did no such thing, however. He simply sat next to Draco and let him speak, about religion, about Astoria, about death, and everything in between those topics.
They hadn’t talked much after that, between toddlers and Harry’s general awkwardness.
It was dinner when Harry summoned his gall and finally tried speaking to him about it. The conversation had been scarce, and this was the first meal they’d shared that day. Harry cleared his throat.
“So, er, Draco. Remember how yesterday I had to leave you with Dawlish, again?”
“Hm,” Draco responded in affirmative, twirling a forkful of pasta before bringing it to his mouth. His other hand, as Harry had come to expect during most larger attempts at eating, was over his stomach. The hand that held his pasta was trembling slightly. Harry had noticed that for the entire dinner, actually. He was nervous to ask if the nerve damage was still so bad.
Harry took in a breath. “He’s going to have to do that a lot more often, now. A few times a week, probably.”
Draco paused, looking at Harry. If he was upset, it didn’t show.
“Why?”
Harry licked his lips, taking a forkful of his own food. “I needed to take care of some personal business. Er, you remember how Hermione came over this week, too?” Draco nodded. “She had come to tell me that Andromeda, your aunt, she’s in St. Mungo’s with a case of Spattergroit.” Harry paused, watching Draco for any reaction. There was none, simply grey eyes on him. Harry cleared his throat to continue.
“You see, the problem is that she’s been taking care of her grandson- my godson. Teddy. And now there’s nobody to care for him except for me and Ginny.”
Draco didn’t respond at first, then, “The Weasley?”
“She’s his godmother. Though I don’t get why.”
“Oh,” Draco responded. He continued to eat. “I understand, now- wait, how would you not get why?”
“Well, we haven’t been together in months, now. More than half a year.”
“Naturally, she must be his godmother in the same respect that you are his godfather.”
This only confused Harry.
“Tonks and… what? No…”
“So you and your Weasley didn’t baptize Teddy on his first birthday or sometime around it?”
Harry blinked.
“I’ve never been to a baptism. Except maybe my own? I don’t know if I’m baptized.”
“Don’t you have a godparents?” Draco asked. “Surely, they baptized you.”
Harry knew he had Sirius, but he’d never… he thought that parents just chose godparents, and that his parents had chosen Sirius, just like Tonks and Remus chose him for Teddy.
“Sirius Black,” Harry offered weakly.
“My criminal cousin?”
Harry felt a flare of emotion rise within him. He stifled it. “That’s unrelated.”
“Well, that’s likely the person that baptized you.”
“Well, I never baptized Teddy, so…” Did this mean that Harry wasn’t Teddy’s godfather afterall?
“You were probably meant to. But you may just be his Godfather in legality and not religiosity,” said Draco, rather matter-of-fact.
Now, Harry was wondering if perhaps, he’d missed Teddy’s first birthday. He couldn’t have, he thought, but as he searched his memory, he wasn’t remembering any such celebration. He frowned.
“Anyway,” Harry continued. “Teddy’s… he's a bit of a handful, he is. He sees a, er- behavioural mind healer. He has some problems.”
Draco nodded slowly, his gaze calculating. “He’s barmy?”
“What?” Harry reared back almost as though he’d been slapped. “He’s two… He’s my godson,” Harry began, feeling the indignation build within him at an alarming pace.
“You said he sees and behavioural mind healer and he has problems,” Draco began, his brows furrowing. “You do realize what that is, right?”
“I’ll have you know I visited his mind healer. And he’s not barmy. They’re trying to help him be better. They are!”
“With the straight jackets or with the scalding showers?”
“What?!” Harry nearly screamed, rising from the table. “No!”
Draco looked a bit affronted, now, and more than a bit taken aback. “What are you talking about?” His tone was entirely confused. “Is it like the Janus Thickey ward now, then? They changed it?”
Harry tried to calm down. Draco seemed confused, genuinely. And Harry didn’t blame him. But this is his godson… his godson. One doesn’t simply accuse him of being barmy. He’s two years old, for christ sake, and-
“No,” Harry tried, swallowing his anger in gulps. “They, they try to help him. Teach him to talk, and to not stick things in his mouth that are dangerous, and to eat more different foods, and- he’s just a bit slow.” Harry could feel a tightness seizing up his chest. “I-I don’t know much about it… It’s some mix of Muggle and Wizarding advancements… but No. It’s not like an asylum or like the Janus Thickey ward. It’s not,” he insisted. “Teddy isn’t like that.”
“Okay, okay.” Draco responded slowly. “I’m sorry,” he added. He got up from the table, using his wand to levitate all of the cups and plates to the kitchen. Harry felt like there was cotton in his head. After a moment, Draco continued
“Just so you’re aware, mind healing used to be… like that. Especially the behavioural healing. Especially here, in the Wizarding World. And if anyone was just a little slow, they didn’t go to a mind healer. Really, they just dealt with it. This new mind-healing must be very new.”
“Well it’s not like that anymore,” Harry pressed. He swallowed a breath, then continued.
“The point is, with Andromeda in the hospital, she can’t care for Teddy. So it’s up to me and Ginny… with some help from Ron and Hermione. It’s just until she’s better, really. But with the timing of it all, and this case, I just need a few days a week to care for him. So, on those days, Dawlish is going to be here.”
Harry was still breathing hard, and he was sure his face was flushed and his eyes still too wide. He didn't feel calm, nor did he want to, but he knew he had to.
Draco looked at Harry. His eyebrows were slightly drawn.
Then, he sighed. "That's fine, Potter. It's your job. I'm just the tosser who survived."
Harry deflated, suddenly. Potter? Why not Harry?
Draco looked at him, his expression sincere, now. "Go take care of your godson. Thank you for making me aware of what's going on."
Harry didn't expect it to be that easy. He felt the tension leaving his body, and a strange sort of anxiety blooming in his stomach, making it churn.
"I made sure that I could still be with you on Sundays." he burst out, suddenly. "For- church." Harry winced.
Draco's brows shot up. "Oh."
Harry didn't know if there was a newfound tension in the room or if he was imagining it.
"Thank you," Draco said. Harry took a step towards him.
"Yeah," he breathed. "I just- er... It's important, to you. Yeah? And I just..."
Draco's eyes were so wide, his irises such a pale grey. "Thank you," he repeated. "It is. Important."
Harry felt his heart thudding loudly. He wanted to be close, again. Like last time. He wanted to feel their breaths mingling, their skin touching.
He could hear Draco breathing. He took another step, his feet seeming to move without his consent.
He could hear himself breathing, as well, his breaths quick, shallow.
"I need to do the dishes, now."
Harry was broken from his reverie. He took a step back.
"I need to clean my flat. It's..." Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "Not quite... ready. For company."
"Yes," Draco replied. "Of course."
"Okay," said Harry, "Let's... I'll help you with the dishes."
"If you don't mind, I can help you clean your flat."
Harry began to smile, "Sure! We can arrange for that."
"I hope your flat has heat, at the very least," Draco responded.
Harry chuckled. "We'll have to find out," he joked.
The two went to work on the dishes, quietly washing, drying, and putting away plates, pots, and pans. It was nice, Harry thought, standing side-by-side with Draco. Their shoulders brushed occasionally. Harry could feel his body reacting to it with shivers and chills and heat and blush. He liked it.
The two went to bed promptly after that, Draco going off to his room after checking the front door a few times. Harry was mildly surprised to see how casually he was doing that, now. And, like with everything, He wondered why.
Harry continued to think about Draco even as he want to bed in his sofa-transfigured-bed. He had a small smile on his face as he thought of white-blond hair and fair skin, of soft touches and beautiful eyes. He wondered what Draco would look like, his hair down. He wondered if he could see Draco's collarbone or the hollow of his neck if he wore a loose shirt. He wondered how his hair would feel in his fingers.
And he wondered if he could have the opportunity to touch him the way he had a couple of days ago. He wanted to feel him against him, their breaths mingling, their bodies touching.
Before Harry could let himself succumb to sleep, he found himself reaching a hand down beneath his trousers.
--------
As the next morning arose, Harry found himself anxious.
Why did he tell Draco he would let him come to his flat? His flat that is absolutely disgusting? A horrendous amalgamation of his carelessness and ignorance on display?
Harry groaned. Draco might have a fit if he saw his flat.
When, he reminded himself.
Harry didn't want to think about Draco seeing his flat. It was embarrassing, and awful, and...
Just, no.
They were set to leave shortly after breakfast. Harry and Draco would have the next few days to clean things up, and, come Monday afternoon, Harry would have his first day looking after Teddy after his therapy.
"Merlin's balls, Potter. This isn't a flat."
Harry winced. Despite him having cleared the trash last time he visited, making the flat much cleaner less bug-filled than last time, the white walls were still a sickly, tired yellow and grey. The air was still stale with old rot, and he could hear the chittering of whatever animals had failed to leave his flat the last time.
Harry's flat is unfit for anyone to be in, let alone a toddler.
Draco walked into the flat first, stepping over the threshold straight into the kitchen. Harry realized with a start that he was tense watching Draco look around, and his breathing was funny. He shook his head, trying to calm himself.
He watched as Draco peered into the sink before promptly pulling out his wand and sending a wordless red stream of light into the sink. He looked up, eyes meeting Harry's.
"I killed a cockroach for you. Get inside, already. We have loads of cleaning to do."
Harry startled, promptly stepping inside and closing the door behind him.
Draco then opened the refrigerator, unleashing a rancid stench. His face wrinkled in disgust. He closed the door, resting his head across his arm and blinking.
"It's been a while since I've been here-"
"And you didn't think to cast maintenance charms when you knew you'd be taking up residence in my flat for the foreseeable future?" Harry's mouth formed a thin line as Draco looked around, gaze landing on the walls. Harry braced himself for another unkind remark, or perhaps a beratment for clearly never having cared for his flat. It was obvious enough now that none of the flats in this, the complex in highest demand for Diagon residents, were quite as ghastly as his. Nothing could be swept aside as not Harry's own fault. He looked around, feeling his stomach knot. This was clearly a mess in the making long before the murder case of God's Wrath.
"You-I..." Draco sighed, looking down. Harry began rubbing at his neck, some lame apology or excuse or acknowledgement about to tumble from his lips, when-
"Well," Draco clapped, rolling up his sleeves and pulling out his wand. "The only way for this to get better is if we clean, right? Let's get started."
Harry blinked.
Draco didn't even mention the filth.
He just moved on, and began to fix it.
Harry could feel his breath leaving him in a relieved rush, his shoulders losing some tension he hadn't even realized was there. He nodded.
"I- yeah, okay... Okay."
"Let's start by clearing out trash and putting things in their place, then we can move to mopping, dusting, vaccuming... all of that." Draco was looking him in the eyes, now, conveying something Harry couldn't quite place, but it made something warm bloom in his chest. Somehow, he felt like it might be okay that Draco had seen this. He felt like maybe, just maybe, Draco wouldn't judge him, or maybe, Draco didn't think less of him for it.