The Talk
The days flew for Harry, with him treating Malfoy and coaxing him to come out of his shell. Harry had observed that, though Malfoy recognized him, he wasn’t the same person. And it was so clear to Harry, looking day in and day out into Malfoy’s eyes, that he was fighting tooth and nail to not let himself slip into his little space, and so he was stuck between his two headspaces, not quite adult but not quite Little either. He displayed certain moments of lucidness, where he seemed to be the same prat from Hogwarts but not so cruel. As if he had become a better person or had been a better person all along. But then there were times when he was almost Little, who was shy and sweet. Treating Malfoy was like treating a scared animal. He cowered when there were more than 3 people in his room. He doesn’t voice his needs. He eyes everyone with suspicion as if the Universe is out to get him. This is understandable, seeing as he was in Azkaban for nearly six months.
It took Harry nearly three days to get a word out of Malfoy. And four more days before the monosyllable answers turned into full-fledged sentences. But his progress was ruined when the other Healers entered Malfoy’s room when Harry hadn’t been there and scared Malfoy to muteness again. Healer Samuels, after that particular incident, had forbidden everyone from going into his room, which had been shifted to a Little’s ward private room. Harry took two days to get Malfoy to speak to him again. Later on, as the protocol required, and under Healer Samuels's suggestion, Harry coaxed Malfoy into letting the Healer view the harshest memories of Azkaban. Malfoy, who had somehow taken to Healer Samuels, had agreed after a week of coaxing. Healer Samuels, who had specialized in Little’s Health as well as Legilimency, had taken care of that gruesome task of viewing his worst memories and then giving him several draughts to help his mental faculty. The whole process took five days. And the healing process from there took nearly ten days, with Malfoy overcoming his trauma. Healer Samuels wanted him to not fight his little space and wanted Malfoy to slip into his headspace. Malfoy had proved to be stubborn all along. After about a little more than a month’s stay in St. Mungo’s, Healer Samuels declared that Malfoy had healed as much as he could in the institute, and the rest of it had to be done by himself. So Malfoy had been declared as mentally fit enough to be discharged from St. Mungo’s.
The only problem was that Malfoy had nowhere to go, and he was comfortable only if he had at least one interaction with Harry a day. Minister Shacklebolt had requested Harry to consider taking the blond in. And Harry had agreed, expecting this to happen. And now, looking down at Malfoy, whose adult headspace was slowly winning the battle, who’s looking more like his old self, whose grey eyes had looked at Harry with so many emotions swirling inside those pools when Harry had said he was taking him home. Harry really thought listening to Ron and Mione’s idea of scheduling ‘The Talk’ with Malfoy today itself, when Malfoy had just arrived an hour before to Grimmauld—as they said, ‘getting it over with as soon as possible’—was a pretty bad idea. Harry had convinced himself that it was not yet time, to tell Malfoy of the talk or Ron and Mione arriving just yet. But he knew he was just postponing the inevitable and made himself call Malfoys name.
"Malfoy?" Malfoy looked at him with those big eyes.
"Umm… I have to tell you something. Ron and Hermione are coming over today." Harry continued.
"Now?" Malfoy asked, with what should have been a sneer but looked more like a grimace.
"Yes. To talk to you." Harry answered. Looking at the blond, even though Harry knew he was a Little, Harry still couldn’t bring himself to refer to Malfoy as a Little.
"Me? Why?" Malfoy asked, fear leeching into his voice. And then, realizing that he cleared his voice and asked with disdain dripping. "Why does that Mudblood and Blood traitor want to talk to me?" Harry bristled at the insult but took a calming breath, knowing that he was just scared and using this as a defense mechanism. Even after knowing that when the insults were directed at someone close to him, Harry would not tolerate them.
"You know well enough that you are not supposed to talk like that, Malfoy. I’m not going to tolerate you spewing such insults about people I care about in my house. Do you get it?" Harry asked, sounding stern. Malfoy looked scared and chastened. Harry waited patiently until the blonde gave a tentative nod.
"Alright, they are coming here to talk to you about our mutual pasts. If you are going to stay in my house for an indefinite time, which you are, then we have to get it all out and sorted between us. If you live with me, you have to be civilized with me and them. So we decided to talk with you as soon as we could. You will be polite and cooperative with us. Understood?"
Malfoy nodded. Seeing Malfoy try to hide his fear and uncertainty softened Harry. Heaving a sigh, Harry softened his tone and spoke, "I’ll be right there, and none of us are going to hurt you in any way. We want to put all the nasty history behind us, that’s all. There's no need to be scared. I’m sorry for being so harsh. I just don’t like it when you call them names. Don’t be disrespectful to them, and all will be fine." Harry spoke in a soft voice, feeling bad for scaring him. This has been how he and Malfoy have been while at St. Mungo’s. Malfoy still got under his skin, and Harry still sometimes let it get to him and snapped, and seeing Malfoy terrified made him feel like shit afterward. Malfoy only gave a timid shrug in response, and Harry suppressed his sigh and went into the kitchen to get something for Malfoy and himself to eat, seeing as his friends would take some time before they arrived.
*****
Harry suppressed his sigh for what seemed to be the hundredth time after seeing the clock. Harry had made roasted beef sandwiches for both him and Malfoy. He had finished his a long time ago. But Malfoy was still nibbling, ever so slowly, on his for the past hour, and it was grating on Harry’s nerves. Malfoy had refused to eat when Harry had given him the sandwich, and when Harry had reprimanded him, saying he needed the food to sustain himself because he was malnourished, he had silently started nibbling the sandwich, which has continued till now, an hour later. Harry almost regretted asking the blonde to finish the whole thing. Harry was contemplating if he should tell the blond to hurry up or if he should ask him to leave the rest if he couldn’t finish when the floo flared. But before he could watch his friends stumble from there, Harry had to wrench his attention from floo to the blond, who gave a scared yelp, dropping the sandwich in the process and looked near tears when he realized he had dropped the food, looking from the sandwich to Harry and back to the sandwich. Harry suppressed his sigh again, and before he could speak, he was interrupted.
"It’s been just two hours, and you are already throwing our food away? Our food is not good enough for you, Malfoy?" Ron spat.
Malfoy snapped his head up from where he was looking at the fallen food. He seemed to freeze at the sight of Mione and Ron.
"N-no," Malfoy stuttered, looking all the while like a deer caught in headlights.
"Ron! Cut it!" Mione exclaimed and looked at Malfoy before vanishing the food, causing Ron to grumble about food waste by people like Malfoy. And before anyone could say anything, Hermione spoke up again, handing over the basket she was carrying to Harry.
"Here, Harry. Molly has prepared some chocolate truffles for you. You keep them on the counter. Me and Ron will settle in the drawing room." Saying that she turned and all but dragged a still-scowling Ron to the drawing room.
Harry made short work of casting preservative charms on the truffles, keeping them on the top counter of the kitchen island, and returning to Malfoy, who was looking at the counter Harry had just kept the truffles on. Harry cleared his throat to gain the attention of the small blonde, who looked at him with those beguiling grey eyes.
"Don’t worry about what Ron said. He’s just miffed about the situation, is all; he’ll come around eventually." Harry spoke softly. When Malfoy didn’t respond but continued to stare at Harry, he spoke up again: "Come on, let’s go and get this over with, then you can rest for the day." Seeing the uncertainty flash in his eyes, Harry added, "Or do you need a moment more?"
Malfoy seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in, attempted a sneer, and stood up, snapping at Harry when he didn’t move, "Lead the way, Potter, or do you need that moment you were talking about?". Harry felt a hot surge of temper rise inside him at the way Malfoy spoke, making him feel inferior, but he reigned it down and stalked to his living room, leaving Malfoy to follow him, mentally kicking himself for trying to be kind to the Malfoy prat.
In the Drawing room, there was a beige settee behind a small glass table, upon which Mione was seated on one side, holding the maroon throw pillows on her lap, leaving the Pearl white armchair beside for Ron, which was angled at 45 degrees, facing the same glass table. Harry promptly took the empty seat beside Hermione just before Malfoy arrived. Malfoy took in his surroundings; the room was inviting but formal enough for what they were about to do. Malfoy then quietly took his seat at the Maroon love seat, which was placed exactly in front of the table at a little distance. The seating was planned by Ron far before, making the love seat a perfect position for Malfoy to sit, which seemed to be isolated a little from the settee and armchair. Harry felt a twinge in his chest, seeing the loveseat dwarf the blonde. Malfoy looked incredibly small and afraid; with him twiddling his thumbs, all Harry wanted to do was spirit the blond away and give him a warm hug. Harry held in his thoughts and looked at Mione, knowing he couldn’t start speaking when his instincts were screaming at him to comfort the Little in front of him.
Hermione cleared her throat, gaining attention. "Hello there, Malfoy. I didn’t quite greet you earlier. How are you?"
Malfoy sneered his signature sneer and snapped, "You don’t need to ask about my well-being, Mudblood! Ask what you need to ask, and leave me alone." Harry bristled at the insult, but before he could say anything, Ron was on his feet, advancing at Malfoy threateningly.
"Listen here, ferret face. We are not required to take you in or give you shelter or food. If you insult Mione or any of us again, you will be out on your ass before you can blink. You will be out there with no food, shelter, or wand to protect yourself, with people who hate you, the Baby Death Eater. So I’d watch my mouth if I were you!" Ron growled at Malfoy’s face. Harry couldn’t quite see Malfoy’s expression, but he saw the frantic nods and a barely repressed whimper coming out of the blonde. Harry’s heart and mind were at war. One wanted to comfort and protect the other, and the latter was still bristling at the insult.
Ron then took his seat in the armchair, glowering at Malfoy. Malfoy looked like he was trying to make the loveseat swallow him with how much he was pressing into it, and he swallowed several times in fear.
"Alright, you didn’t want niceties. So you are going to get none. Now we want you to explain that you no longer believe in the blood purity shite, what happened to change your mind, and that you mean us no harm. Tell us what happened during and after the war. Convince us you deserve to be taken in, that you deserve all the time we need to invest in you." Ron spoke calmly. Harry wanted to object, but he didn’t know what to say. He was feeling unsettled with how things were processing. He opened his mouth to ask Ron to be gentler. He was stopped by a hand on his knee. He looked at Mione, the owner of the hand, to see her subtly shaking her head, indicating him to keep quiet. Harry looked at Malfoy, giving him an encouraging smile. Malfoy visibly pulled himself together before responding.
"You all know what has happened since sixth grade." Malfoy paused and swallowed again before resuming. "In my sixth year, the D-dark Lord summoned me to assign me a task. He wanted me to kill Headmaster Dum-Dumbledore. Father was in Azkaban, and he wanted me to complete this task along with fixing the Cabinet to sneak the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. He-he said that if I fail, he will k-kill me and Mother." Malfoy let out a shuddering breath at that. Harry could clearly see him nearly slipping into headspace, but he somehow pulled himself back to his adult headspace.
"So the necklace and poison were you? Trying to kill Dumbledore?" Hermione asked quietly, seeming to understand the struggle Malfoy was going through to explain. Malfoy nodded at that.
"I had imperiused Madam Rosmerta to give the cursed necklace to a student and ask them to give it to Dumbledore. That’s how Katie Bell got cursed; Madam Rosmerta gave it to her. And the poison was meant to get to Headmaster Dumbledore. I-I didn’t mean to kill her or you. I was just doing what was necessary to survive" Malfoy looked at Ron, his face pleading to be understood.
"You did repair the Vanishing Cabinet at the end, didn’t you?" Harry spoke gently. Malfoy nodded at that.
"I did. And I was also about to kill Dumbledore. I had his wand. But I couldn’t *swallow* couldn’t cast the k-killing curse. I tried to, but I just couldn’t. I knew I needed to in order to save Mother and myself, but at that moment, I wasn't able to cast it" Malfoy was near tears by this time. Harry nodded in encouragement, having seen what had taken place on that day in the astronomy tower. "Snape had to do-do it for me. And then-and then, I was punished by the Dark Lord for failure. But he didn’t k-kill us because I had managed to sneak the Death Eaters inside the school, and-and Dumbledore was dead."
"How did he punish you?" Ron asked. Malfoy shuddered at the question.
"He cast C-Crucio on me, so many times. And-and it hurt so bad!" Malfoy was slowly slipping into his headspace. Harry could see it. Hermione squeezed his knee, and Harry kept quiet, ignoring his instincts and the demands of his heart.
"And then he-he locked me in a scary room for so many days. I was so scared, and it was very dark." Malfoy sniffed, tears filling his eyes. But the hand on his knee didn’t let Harry do anything but helplessly watch. It’s okay; we need to know what exactly happened. He has to tell us, no matter how difficult Harry told himself.
"Why didn’t you recognize me? That day when we were caught by the snatchers?" Harry wanted to know that.
"Because-because I hated the D-dark Lord, and I-I wanted you to win the war. And-and I didn’t want you to d-die." By this time, Malfoy was slipping in and out of his headspace, and Harry was getting worried.
"What did he do when he found out that it was us? Did he punish you again?" It was Hermione who asked this.
"He-he Locked us in the-the dungeons for all my h-holidays. And-and he let Aunt B-Bella tor-torture me and m-my parents. She used to *sniffle* used to c-cut me up and *sniffle* and used to taunt me, saying that-that I sh-should be able to b-bear little p-pain when I used to c-cry. But it-it hurted a lot. And-and Father and Mother used to s-scream all night. Aunt Bella also used to ex-expement her new curses on me and s-see how long I can bear it." Tears were flowing freely down his pointed chin. Someone gasped at the horror of it all, and Harry was feeling rage course through his veins, wanting to hurt whoever hurt the Little.
"What happened in Azkaban?" Ron quietly asked while Harry was still failing to digest what was said. Draco blanched at hearing Azkaban and spoke, his words tripping over one another at how fast he was speaking.
"Please don’t send me to A-Azkaban. They were all very m-mean to me. They hurted me a lot and-and used to make me do all the ch-chores, and when I didn’t do it to their satis…satif-action, then they used to slap me and-and beat me until everything went dark. They-they used to make me b-beg to let me drink wa-water. Pwease don’ sen’ me back! I be very good to you. I’ll be quiet-quiet as a mouse and-and do all the chores. Pease, I’m sowwy. They-they also tried to do-do very mean th-things to me and-and touched my pee-pee and bum and-and it hurted so bad. Pwease, I don’ wanna go back, I-" And a sob broke through his little chest—a gut-wrenching sob that had Harry’s heart twisting in on itself. He instantly sprang to his feet, but surprisingly, it wasn’t him who reached for the Little first, nor was it Hermione. It was Ron who dashed to Draco’s side, pulling the now sobbing Little to his chest, and tried to hush him.
Draco still blabbered on wetly, his sobs wracking his body. "I do anythin’ you ask me. I’ll be quiet, and-and I don’t even need lotsa space. I won’t even dist-distub you. Pwease. I sowwy for bein mean to you; I won do it again, pwease don sen’ me back."
“Hush, buddy, no one’s sending you back. You will stay with us, and we will all protect you. No one would ever hurt you again. Hush now, little bud," Ron kept murmuring. Harry and Hermione were now beside them, and all three adults had tears in their eyes. Harry slowly caressed the blond head, sitting on the other side of Draco. Draco snapped his head at the caress and immediately held his hands, and as soon as Harry tried holding him, he clambered up to Harry's lap and cried wetly to Harry’s chest, repeating sorry again and again. Harry’s heart broke further at this, but he held the Little tightly, one hand rubbing his back while he rocked them both back and forth, murmuring, "It’s okay, little one," "You’re alright", "I got you" and "Let it all out".
Harry held the blonde Little on his lap while he sobbed his little heart out at all the tragedies that had happened in his life, clutching Harry for dear life. While traitorous tears slipped from Harry’s own eyes, Ron and Mione sat beside him, a warm and comforting presence bu his side. The Little cried himself to sleep in Harry’s arms, his little body still shaking with the occasional sob or a hiccup wracking through him in his sleep, and Harry held on just a little while longer, not wanting to let the hurt Little go yet. Not willing to ignore his heart's demands once more. So Harry held on, still rocking the Little, but it was more for himself than the sleeping boy in his arms. Promising himself that Draco will never know pain again from now on.