Chapter Text
“Wow,” Draco said, entirely unimpressed.
Harry wasn’t joking at all when he said his house was a bit of a fixer. It wasn’t dirty , simply outdated. It looked old like it was sealed up from a long time ago.
“Yeah,” Harry said scratching the back of his head. “I asked Kreacher to keep it clean, but that I would do most of the repair work.”
“Kreacher?” Draco ran his finger across the top of the fireplace. It came away without a speck of dust.
“He’s a house-elf. He’s somewhere around here,” Harry’s eyes did a quick sweep of the room. “I’ll have to introduce you later.”
Draco let his trunk fall with a resounding thud , whirling around to look at Harry. “Wait, wait. You have a house-elf?” His grey eyes wide with disbelief.
“Ye--”
“Does Granger know?”
“Of course--”
“Hold on! My father told me you freed our house elf. Now you’ve got one of your own? Talk about cauldron and kettle, Potter.”
“Firstly,” Harry started, draping his coat across the arm of the couch. “Kreacher is free. This is just as much his house as it is mine. You know house-elves, they love to work.”
The brown boy's eyebrows furrowed and his mouth twisted down as if he’d had an unpleasant thought as he sat on the sofa. “Secondly...secondly, your father was horrible to Dobby. I would never--.” Harry broke off suddenly.
Draco could crucio himself, he was a fool for bringing it up. The house-elf was dead. How could he forget, Harry had listed it as one of his aunts' many crimes.
He was supposed to be here stopping Harry’s descent into a suicidal mess, not catapulting him towards it.
Because to Harry, the house-elf was just another one of his loved ones he’d never get to see again.
How anyone cared for a house-elf that greatly was beyond Draco, but that wasn’t the point.
“Ok, well,” Draco floundered, searching for some way to comfort or distract the green-eyed boy.
Harry was always the one initiating contact. Reaching out, pulling at Draco to get him to follow, poking his cheek to get his attention. It was weird, to Draco at least. But the blond boy had seen him be just as touchy with Weasley and Granger. So he supposed it wasn’t that big of a deal.
With this in mind, Draco slowly walked up to Harry where the boy sat frowning, deep in his thoughts.
He hesitantly placed his hand on top of Harry’s bowed head. His pale fingers sinking into the black abyss that Harry called hair. To his surprise Harry leaned into the touch, pushing his head into Draco’s palm. In response, Draco gently scraped his nails along Harry’s scalp.
The blond boy could feel the heat rising in his cheeks and up to his ears.
“Well, are you going to give me the tour or am I just supposed to bang around hoping to find my room?” Draco asked quietly.
Harry raised his arms and placed his hands at Dracos hips, pushing him back so he could look at him. Draco’s hands fell limply to his sides as he stepped backward to accommodate Harry.
“There really isn’t much to see I'm afraid,” Harry said looking up at the Slytherin. “You can pick whichever empty room you’d like.”
Draco stood stock still. Used to Harry’s lack of attention to personal space as he was, this touch felt different. Perhaps it was the placement of the brown boy's hands, thumbs digging into his sides. The heat of Harry’s hands seeping through his jeans. Perhaps it was the way Harry was looking up at him. Eyes half-lidded and the beginnings of a smile playing on his face.
If Draco’s face wasn’t red before it, it was certainly on fire now.
Meanwhile, Harry continued on, a small smile stretching his lips, in deep contrast with the weariness in his eyes. “There are only two rules. Be quiet when roaming the halls and never enter through the front door.”
“And why is that?” Draco sneered, trying to fight the blush on his face.
Harry sighed, letting go of the blond boy with a final squeeze to his hip bone. “Let’s just say we have quite a few unwanted house guests.”
“What exactly is that supposed to mean?” Draco said, voice rising. “Where in Merlin’s name have you brought me?”
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Despite the vaguely ominous warning about other beings in the house, it wasn’t a terrible place to stay.
It was smaller than the manor, obviously. He actually doesn’t have any recollection of ever staying in a place this tiny. And if the rumors were to be believed, the Weasley’s dwelling was even smaller than this. How they’d fit the lot of them was a mystery to Draco. No wonder Harry didn’t want to go there for holiday.
He’d chosen the room across and to the left from Harry. He didn’t want to be too far from the other wizard, what with whatever creatures stayed in his home that Harry refused to tell him about.
He might need someone to use as a decoy so he could apparate out of here.
Draco set his trunk next to the foot of the bed, before taking a seat. He’d yet to see the house-elf roaming about, which was fine because Morgana knew they were better off unseen. However, he was curious as to what manner of house-elf would be deemed acceptable by miss high and mighty herself. Draco was still shocked beyond belief that Granger not only knew Harry had a house-elf but seemed to be accepting of it.
Bringing up his old house-elf was the first slip Draco had made in weeks. It was almost second nature to him to redact things from his vocabulary that might set Harry off. Although he wondered, not for the first time if that was the best way to go about things.
The only way Harry would escape any talk about him being the chosen one is if he moved out of Great Britain. Perhaps it would be best to ease Harry into it? He could take this week and slowly expose Harry to everything they’d been avoiding.
Of course, if the brown boy slipped into a catatonic state from talking about the Dark Lord he was sure Granger and Weasley would find some way to kill him.
Draco rolled off the bed. He had time to figure it out he supposed. He’d take this time to snoop around Harry’s house while the other boy was off doing whatever it was he did.
All the drawers and cupboards in his room were empty. Spotless and free of dust, but empty all the same.
He slowly crept out into the hall, careful not to make a sound. They were on the second floor, he figured he’d start looking around on the ground floor. That was the least suspicious of course. He made his way down the grand staircase, mindful of his steps lest he bring down the wrath of whatever creature was roaming the halls.
All the bedrooms on the first floor were empty and pristine. Not a single personal artifact among them. It was quite boring really. He was hoping to find some sort of dirt on the chosen one. Or unearth evidence of some weird hobby at the very least.
When he came upon the drawing-room something caught his eye. A large tapestry with a great big tree. A great big tree with names in its branches. Names that he recognized.
“I was wondering when you’d find this.”
Draco jumped and spun around. Harry was leaning in the door frame, arms crossed at his chest, with an odd look on his face.
“Why do you have a tapestry of my family tree?” His mother’s family tree if he was being technical.
Harry walked past Draco and pointed to a blackened spot on the tree. “This is my Godfather.”
Draco blinked, “Your Godfather is Sirius Black?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t think I even want to get into that,” Draco said, shaking his head. Last he knew Sirius Black had murdered Potters parents. But, of course, he wasn’t about to bring that up now.
Harry let out a laugh that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “It’s quite the story.”
Draco shot Harry a look, accessing how close he was to a meltdown. “And I’m begging you not to tell it,” he said dryly.
“Now which way is the kitchen, I’m starving and you should know I don’t cook.”
This time the smile made it to Harry’s eyes and Draco knew he was safe for a few moments more.
“Do you do anything?” Harry said, nudging Draco back towards the corridor.
Draco shrugged.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Draco had lots of recurring nightmares. The Dark Lords' pale face, creeping out of the darkness. Facing off against Dumbledore on the Astronomy Tower, sweat pooling in his hands, Dumbledore’s sympathetic face. His parents, dead, sitting at their dining table. Nagini swallowing him whole. The smell of Crabbe’s burning flesh in the Room of Requirement. Mixing up his tinctures and spelling his hair Weasley orange.
Obviously, some were a little more concerning than others.
The first night at Harry Potter's home Draco had one of these such nightmares. It was dark in his dream, darker than the night itself. And the wind was howling, strong enough to unsteady him. Draco reached for the wand he knew to be in his pocket only to come up empty-handed. This is where the panic set in, hot and sharp in his chest, in his bones, in his mind. He was unarmed, an enemy of both sides. If the others find him he’d be dead, if the Dark Lord found him he may as well wish he was.
A figure appeared out of the gloom, tall and bearded. He loomed over Draco in silence, half-moon glasses splintered and mouth hanging open.
“I-” Draco tried to speak but the words wouldn’t come. Dumbledore grabbed Draco’s wrist in an ironclad grip and when the blond boy looked down he saw his wand piercing the elder wizard’s chest.
It wasn’t him, although it felt like it was. He didn't do it but he may as well have
Dumbledore thrust Draco's wand further into himself, drawing blood.
The liquid spilled hot over Draco’s closed fist. “Let me go,” he whispered.
Deeper still the young wizard's hand was pulled into Dumbledore’s body. Until his hand was fully submerged. Until he couldn’t tell where his body ended and Dumbledore’s began and it seemed like the blood was pooling out of himself.
“Let me go!” he was screaming now. Thrashing against the unyielding grip. “Please, let me go.”
The older wizard's head sank forward and his glasses fell and shattered. “I’m sorry!,” Draco yelled, the wind drowning out his voice. “Let me go!”
Draco was up to his elbow and unable to pull free. He squeezed his eyes shut.
“Let me go,” he sobbed.
“Draco,” a voice said. The blond wizard shook his head.
He was sorry, he was so sorry.
“Draco!”
Grey eyes snapped open.
Harry was leaning over him, warm hands gripping his shoulders. “Draco,” the brown-skinned boy said again. “Are you awake?”
Draco extricated himself from Harry’s grip and lifted his hands in front of his face so he could see them. No blood, he wasn’t even holding his wand. He settled heavily into his pillow.
“Why are you in here?” Draco asked, seemingly too loud for the darkroom.
Harry straightened and righted his glasses, “I heard you shouting.”
The pale boy turned his head away from the other. This was precisely why he didn’t want to be here alone with Harry. There wasn’t enough of a distraction here in this empty house. No way to exhaust himself into a dreamless sleep.
“Sorry to wake you.”
“I wasn’t asleep,” Harry said plainly.
They lapsed into silence. Draco wished Harry would leave. Leave him in this shadowed room to wallow in embarrassment.
But of course, he didn’t. Harry crouched towards him, his thumb swiping under his eye, drying Draco’s cheek. Draco squeezed his eyes shut.
“Do you have them often?”
“Often enough,” Draco bit out.
“What happens?” Harry asked, still crouched over Draco, wiping his tears.
And for a moment Draco let him. For a moment Draco let himself bask in the warmth that was Harry Potter. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t wake from a nightmare alone. The terror that gripped him vanished when he opened his eyes and Harry’s voice pierced through his subconscious. Not for the first time, Draco wondered if Harry had another kind of magic. If the feeling he got when he looked at Harry wasn’t the work for some curse or hex. If the whole of the wizarding world wasn’t under enchantment from this boy.
Draco tilted his face out of Harry’s reach, “Not everyone has an overwhelming need to share their feelings and personal problems, Potter.”
There was silence for longer than Draco knew Harry could keep his mouth shut. He opened his eyes to find Harry gone. The grey-eyed boy sighed into the empty room. He rolled over and pressed his face into the pillow.
“Do you mind?”
Harry’s voice startled Draco into an upright position. He whirled around to face Harry in shock.
The black-haired boy was brandishing a pillow and a quidditch book. One he’d seen Harry check out of the library right before they left for holiday.
When Draco didn’t answer Harry strolled around to the other side of the bed and threw his pillow down.
“Hope the wand light doesn’t bother you too much,” he said, claiming a spot on the bed next to Draco.
Draco watched him crack open the tome and whisper the words to light his wand. He debated whether this was something worth fighting Harry on. Merlin knew Draco had to choose his battles with this one.
It was for one night, Draco supposed he could allow this. To make Harry feel better of course.
“It’s alright.”