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Harry sat on his worn leather couch in front of the fire in Grimmauld Place, staring down at the cover of the book gripped in his hands. The black and white cover showed a lovely lady dressed in a full ball gown next to one Draco Malfoy, who was holding her hand and looking at her with adoring eyes. The moving picture was looping, showing the woman’s cheeks flush as Draco kissed her hand in true aristocratic fashion. Over and over, Harry watched the scene, until someone reached out and tugged the book out of his hands.
Hermione.
She was the one who had brought him the book, the one who had brought his world crashing down. That wasn’t exactly fair, but Harry could have lived in an ignorant bliss for at least a couple hours more.
Wordlessly, he pointed to the fireplace. Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Harry shook his head and pointed more adamantly. With a sigh, Hermione set the book down on the coffee table, grabbed a pinch of Floo Powder, and whisked away to The Burrow.
How did it come to this?
Potter,
I’ve never been good at thank-yous or apologies, but I suppose my hand is tied in this instance. I appreciate you speaking at mine and my mother’s trials. I can understand why you had nothing to say for father, and I do not blame you in the slightest. Thank you for returning my wand. I thought The Savior would want to keep the wand that defeated The Dark Voldemort, but it was a thoughtful gesture. I’m unsure if I’ll be able to use it, but I do respect your decision to return it.
I’m seeing a Mind Healer as part of my probation, and they suggested that I write letters to those I have wronged in the past, to help me let go of the past. I know that not everything can be erased, but I agree that the letters are a start. I have written to Granger, Weasley, Weaslette, Lovegood, and a number of others but have not been able to find the words to give to you about everything that happened. I implore you to allow me to continue writing to you until I can find those words.
Malfoy
They exchanged letters for months. Draco seemed to have trouble with words, and like he said in his first letter, he had trouble with apologies. Most of the letters were filled with day to day activities and what he had to do for his probation. Harry responded in turn; speaking of Auror training and his assistance in the rebuilding of Hogwarts.
Standing now in his closet, he held the wooden box that contained every single letter Draco had written to him. It was three years of correspondence, fit into this old cigar box he had found in Sirius’ old room. Every letter that Draco had ever sent him… Draco could have published the letters from Harry if he really wanted to. But this? Publishing a book of the letters between himself and Astoria Greengrass, some of the dates overlapping the dates that Harry and he had been in contact?
It hurt.
Potter,
The package you sent with your last owl was not required, but was very appreciated. My mother loved the wine; how did you know she was partial to Châteauneuf-du-Pape? No matter. I, too, enjoyed the chocolates you sent. They were always my favorite while we were at school, and I was surprised you knew remembered that I liked them. Have you tried them? They are divine. The dark chocolate melts on your tongue and the caramel ganache is the right amount of sweet and salty - absolutely decadent.
I apologize for still not having the right words. I don’t want to mess up my apology, and honestly feel like it may be better said in person. Perhaps we can figure out a time where we can meet and I can properly say the things I need to say?
Until then,
DM
Later in the week, Harry finally left Grimmauld at the insistence of Ron, and had dinner at The Burrow. He wasn’t hungry. He didn’t want to eat. He felt the sympathetic gaze of Molly, her mouth open to try to say something, but at a sharp look from Hermione, her mouth snapped shut. Harry shot Hermione a grateful look; he didn’t think he could take anyone talking about the situation.
He was silent throughout the meal, and he snuck out early, not wanting to bring anyone else down with him. Spinning out of the fire at Grimmauld, he threw himself onto the leather couch and allowed the tears to finally come.
Potter,
I must say, I write to you more than anyone else. I’m surprised that you have continued our correspondence after we met the last time; I take it that you have accepted my apologies, even with my ineloquent stuttering. I cherish that more than you know.
Thank you for the invitation to dinner at the Weasleys’. I would be lying if I said I was anything less than anxious, as most of my lashing out during Hogwarts was directed towards that family. I understand that you have forgiven me, and I received a response from Granger stating the same thing in not so many words, but I haven’t heard anything from Weasley or the Weaslette. You can understand why I feel some trepidation.
If you are sure, please let me know via your return owl, and I will show up when I am expected.
Until next time,
Draco
The next day, exhausted, eyes rimmed red, he found himself Disillusioned and standing in front of the window of Draco’s flat. He knew what he’d find there, but he had to see it for himself.
The window looked right into Draco’s kitchen, and there they were: Draco and Astoria, sitting together and laughing, exchanging bites of food from each other’s forks. Harry bristled; that should be him, not Astoria. Astoria couldn’t give Draco what he wanted, what he craved.
H,
I never thought it would end up like this. To be fair, I’ve nursed a fondness for you for years, and knowing that you actually return my feelings feels like… the first fly on a new racing broom. I’m nervous, I’m excited, and I’m terrified of messing this up. Mother, of course, knows about me and my inclination towards the male gender; Father, however, is none the wiser and still expects me to carry on the Malfoy line. I have to say, I do not care about that in the least bit. I think about you all the time. I count the hours until we firecall, or until I can see you and feel you against me. It is unfortunate that we have to be secretive, but I would do anything to remain with you.
Oh my, I’m rambling on, aren’t I? I apologize. I will see you at The Burrow on Sunday. Please extend Molly my thanks for the indefinite invitation, and let her know that I am more than happy to bring a dessert or wine.
Yours,
Draco
Harry could do what Draco did. Harry could absolutely ruin Draco. He could take those letters in the cigar box and send them to The Daily Prophet and run Draco into the ground. Expose him, his sexuality, his relationship with Harry… but he couldn’t do that to Draco. He couldn’t hurt him like that, no matter how much he was hurting. It wasn’t right.
The letters Draco published were between him and Astoria, and none of them mentioned Harry or anyone else. The letters Draco published had nothing to do with anything other than bringing the Malfoy name back into a better light. If it was anyone else, Harry would have agreed that it was the right thing to do.
Harry,
I couldn’t keep it to myself any longer. You have my heart, Harry James Potter. I trust you implicitly, and you amaze me every day. I hope this isn’t too forward, but Grimmauld is so dark and gloomy, and my flat has plenty of room. You are more than welcome to spend more time with me; in fact, I implore you to do so. I want to be with you all the time, and I can’t wait to wake up to you every morning.
I will love you until the day I die.
Draco
The eagle owl dropped a thick envelope emblazoned with the Malfoy crest in forest green wax onto Harry’s lap. This was Draco’s owl; Harry had become very well acquainted with him over the last years. He didn’t want to open the letter. He didn’t want to read what it had to say. Hadn’t the book been enough? Hadn’t Draco hurt Harry enough?
His hands shook as he traced the wax seal. What could Draco possibly have to say to Harry now?
My Dearest,
I have missed you and your touch so much. I know you’ve been busy with work; I hope that you are being safe and aren’t being reckless… who am I kidding, you’re Harry James Potter, The Boy Who Lived Twice, and my lover, my best friend. Once you’re back from your mission, I have learned how to cook Duck Confit and Treacle Tart (!!!) and I can’t wait to wine and dine you in our flat.
Safe travels.
Your love,
Draco
Trembling fingers finally broke the seal as he slid the thick, creamy parchment from the envelope. His eyes darted from side to side as he read the words on the paper, his brow furrowing and his hands beginning to clench the parchment the further he read. As he reached the bottom of the letter, with a cry, he leapt to his feet and tore upstairs into his bedroom. He grabbed the cigar box and ran back down the stairs, chest heaving.
A wave of his wand and the clasp of the box broke open - he may have cast a little too forcefully, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He gathered all of the letters and shuffled through them, eyes scanning the pages, rereading the words that had brought him comfort and laughter for the past years. He felt the tears pricking his eyes, and let them fall as he tossed all of the letters into the fireplace. With one final glance at the last letter, he tossed it onto the pile with the rest.
Potter,
By this time, I’m sure you’ve seen the book I have published. By the absence of letters, I can tell that you don’t wish to have an explanation. I will give you one, nonetheless.
I know this must come as a surprise. You were only gone for three months, three long, lonely months. If you have read the book, you’ll have seen the dates on the letters between Astoria and myself. I can assure you that everything I ever said to you was the truth. This is just something that must be done. I must continue the Malfoy lineage, my legacy. I must father a son to continue the line. Astoria is aware of my proclivities towards men, and we have an arrangement.
While this leaves things open for you and I, I believe that it is best if we discontinue what it is that we are doing. Imagine what The Prophet would say about The Savior with a Death Eater - they would drag you through the mud, ruin your reputation, and we can’t have that. THis is as much for your own good as mine.
Harry, you will always have a place in my heart. Please understand that I’m doing this for the greater good.
Until the end, I remain yours,
Draco Lucius Malfoy
Taking a deep breath, looking at the last three years of his life, Harry shakily pointed his wand at the letters.
“Incendio.”