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Draco couldn’t believe his luck, and that’s mostly because it had been spectacularly bad up until now. Having the Dark Lord take over his house; threaten, torture, and torment his family; assign him what was surely meant to be an impossible mission; and then up and die before fulfilling any of his grandiose promises was a hell of a bad streak. And it only got worse when Draco’s father was tossed into Azkaban, Draco and his mother were put on house arrest, almost everything else of value they owned was stripped away for war reparations, and Draco was forced to take Muggle Studies as part of his sentence and rehabilitation.
Draco was starting to believe he was due some good luck. Surely the world owed him at this point. And what a way it chose to repay him—with his something-great uncle a couple times removed on his father’s side leaving him, well, a substantial inheritance. Draco sat, listening to his uncle’s solicitor tell them the details of the bequest.
“And you are now entitled to the ten million Galleons that your Uncle Archibald left you, but there are conditions to the gift,” Mr. Tefton, the solicitor, said.
Draco sat up straighter. He knew there was a catch. There always was.
“You are required to donate at least half of the sum to a worthy cause. You are at liberty to pick the charity, so long as it meets the stipulations Archibald outlined and does demonstrable work for its area of influence,” Mr. Tefton outlined.
Draco blinked. Half the money. That lost him five million Galleons, but still guaranteed him five million Galleons to do whatever he wanted. The Malfoys weren’t as skint as they were after the trials anymore. In the few years since the war ended, Draco had worked to finish his education and was since making a respectable living and name for himself working under a renowned Wandmaster. Draco’s childhood lessons on investing did not go to waste and the Malfoy coffers weren’t quite as empty as they were after the Ministry demanded recompense for wartime folly.
But with this inheritance, Draco could actually start up a shop himself when his training was complete. Wand-making materials were incredibly expensive, and with lenders still wary of investing in the Malfoy name, it made buying them all the more difficult. However, Draco was working to redeem himself, and was beginning to think this inheritance might be the key.
“All I have to do is give up half of the money? That’s it?” Draco confirmed.
“Yes,” Tefton said, “so long as the charity fits the guidelines. The gift must, however, remain anonymous. There is to be no acclaim gained from throwing this money around in hopes of some reward being given back to you from its gifting.”
Draco cursed under his breath. Tefton was right that the publicity from being so visibly generous to some charity for snot-nosed kids or whatever would have gone a long way to helping people trust his family again.
“Alright. Donate money and keep it anonymous. I can do that. Anything else?” Draco enquired.
“Well, Archibald did strongly encourage you to also volunteer your time with the chosen charity, but it is not actually a requirement of the bequest,” Tefton concluded.
Draco snorted. “Well I won’t be doing that . I’m afraid I’m not much of the volunteering type. But I’ll make sure the funds go to a cause that helps kids or treats fuzzy animals or saves the environment from greenhouse gasses or whatever the muggles are always going on about, hmm? That should be worthy enough, yes?”
“Yes, children, animals, and nature are three of the categories Archibald outlined.” Mr. Tefton closed his files and prepared to leave. “Well, Mr. Malfoy, that is the whole of the bequest description. Please get back to me when you have decided on which charity you wish to support and my office will release the portion of the money you designate to the organization, unless you decide to donate the bequest in its entirety.”
Draco outright laughed this time. “Well that is also not going to happen. But thank you, Mr. Tefton, I will be owling you soon.”
Draco shook the man’s hand and escorted him out of the Manor, then immediately went in search of his mother to tell her the news.
“Five million Galleons?” she asked, wide-eyed, after he had recounted the conversation.
“At most,” Draco confirmed. “Though Mr. Tefton tells me I can donate the whole of it to the bedwetters if I decide to,” Draco continued with a smile on his face and the laugh still in his voice for such a ridiculous notion.
“You wouldn’t!” Narcissa gasped.
“Not on Slytherin’s life,” Draco assured, satisfied that his mother saw just how preposterous such a suggestion was.
“Now we must decide on the cause you are going to support. You know I do my fair share of charity work to uplift the family name again. You could fund one of my organizations. The work I do is mainly for mothers and children, and it is a worthy endeavour.”
Draco let her tell him about her work with For the Children , an organization that was started after the war and helped those children affected by the Dark Lord’s reign of terror. It helped children who had lost one or both parents to the war and offered aid in food, clothing, education, mentorship, and even shelter when necessary. It also interested Draco that the President and primary benefactor of the organization was some nameless entity that Draco’s mother didn’t even know. He was apparently just someone who had suffered because of the war and wanted to ensure no other child suffered like he did.
Draco had a hard time admitting this to anyone but his mother, but he carried a hefty load of guilt from his part in the war. Sure, he’d believed in the Dark Lord’s ideals when he was younger, but as he grew and witnessed the horrors of war, he’d come to a swift change in judgement. Towards the end, his participation had been the result of fear rather than blind loyalty. The Muggle Studies courses he’d been forced to take had also helped open Draco’s mind and recognise his prejudices for what they were, though he refused to acknowledge it at the time. And it both helped and didn’t to be reminded that a muggleborn had bested him in school for six years.
Seeing the destruction the Dark Lord and his followers had caused to both Hogwarts and the Wizarding world at large. Witnessing the deaths and incarceration of his classmates, friends, and family. Enduring the scorn of a world that was less than forgiving of a teenager acting under duress. Draco had changed in ways he was honestly still processing.
In the end, after hearing about several other charities his mother volunteered with, Draco decided he would donate to For the Children . His guilt eased just a little knowing that he was going to help rebuild some of the world he’d helped destroy.
Draco contacted Mr. Tefton and the process was set in motion. Now that Draco would soon have five million Galleons to start his shop, he threw himself into his studies even more, ready to use the Galleons once his training was complete. Later, when Draco received an owl from Mr. Tefton with a forwarded letter of gratitude from For the Children, full of flowery thank you’s and the substantial impact his gift would have on so many children and their families, Draco smiled and stored the letter in his desk.
*
Draco was in his workshop of the store he’d opened last year testing wand combinations when his mother found him. She was often pestering him to come with her to For the Children and see the effects last year’s donation had on the organization. It had expanded exponentially and was helping more families, educating and mentoring more kids, and hiring more teachers and caregivers than ever before. It had even branched out and begun offering acclimation programs for children, including both Muggle Studies for wizard-raised children and Wizard Studies for muggle-raised children, all to help end the years-long prejudices children grew up with and carried with them into their school and adult years.
“Draco dear, you really must come with me to For the Children today,” she said. “I am teaching an etiquette class in Wizard Studies and I need your assistance with my ballroom dance demonstration. Jason usually helps me, but he is out sick today and Reginald is my only other option, but he is a dreadful dancer and always steps on my feet. I’d rather cancel the class altogether.”
“Then cancel the class, Mother. I’m busy,” Draco countered, carefully trying to coax an acacia wand to accept a dragon heartstring core. Both were fairly temperamental things and giving Draco difficulty combining. But he would get it. He was very convincing and he was certain this wand would be a powerful companion to whoever was strong enough to claim it.
“I will not. You know how much my students look forward to these classes, Draco.” Her voice was as smooth as silk, but Draco heard the affront in it. He knew his mother loved the work she did and he actually approved of it. Fewer children entering the Wizarding world ignorant of its customs and traditions was all for the better.
Draco sighed. “I can’t today, Mother. This is a very delicate process and it requires my full concentration.”
“You can do that anytime. Your shop is thriving and your customers are well pleased with your work. Your stock of common wand types is full and no one is currently in demand of one of your more unique combinations,” she argued. “Do it later.”
It took several more minutes of Draco’s denials and Narcissa’s needling before she finally stopped asking and dragged Draco from his shop. He protested a bit longer, but there never was any reasoning with her when she reached this level of pique.
But when they arrived at For the Children , she was all smiles. She really did love this work. And apparently, the children loved her. As they crossed the threshold, children excitedly called her name and several rushed forwards to embrace her. Draco was surprised. She’d been affectionate with him when he was younger, but not like this. Draco wondered if it were the lack of his father or the end of the war that had caused her to become so uninhibited, or perhaps both.
Several adults waved to Narcissa and Draco assumed they were employees or volunteers of the organization. When a woman with flaming ginger fair trotted over to converse with her, it took a moment for Draco to place her.
“Girl Weasley?!” he said, eyes widening.
Ginevra looked at Draco and smiled a crooked smile, freckles exploding all over her stretched cheeks. “Nice to see you, too, Malfoy. I tend to go by ‘Ginny’ these days. And in those days, too,” she said with a raised eyebrow.
Draco felt his face flush, but he raised his chin just a bit, too proud to acknowledge his regret of his past to this particular person.
“Draco, do behave,” his mother told him. “Ginevra here is the Vice President and acting head of For the Children .” Draco’s eyebrows rose and he watched as Ginevra’s smile widened again at his surprise, clearly proud of herself. “Ginevra, Draco is here to assist me with the ballroom dance lesson today. Jason is out sick and Reginald is, well…,” Narcissa frowned and even Ginevra grimaced.
“A terrible dancer, yeah,” Ginevra said. “I’ve had my toes stepped on enough to know.” Ginevra eyed Draco up and down as if assessing his ability to be trusted with children. “Well alright. Have him fill out the paperwork in the office and he’s all set. Be nice to the kids, Malfoy, and don’t let them terrorize him too much, eh, Narcissa?”
“Wait, terrorize-?” Draco started, making Ginevra laugh, but Narcissa cut him off. “My students will be perfect little dears,” she said.
Ginevra walked off with a wave behind her and Draco looked at his mother askance. “What are you signing me up for, Mother?”
She smiled serenely at him. “Just a little fun, darling.”
*
Draco had to admit, the first day had been fun. As had the second, when Narcissa had dragged Draco back to the building a few weeks later after the children had said they missed him and demanded his presence again. As was the third, when Draco returned on his own the following weekend to see the results of his ballroom dance teachings.
Though the children were indeed little terrors, they were also impossibly entertaining, hilarious, and intelligent. And they didn’t judge Draco for his past because they didn’t know it, having yet to be taught the particulars of the war they survived. Draco began showing up a couple weekends per month and participated in his mother’s lessons or someone else’s. If he ran errands or played with whatever children happened to be about, that was simply his own business.
As the months wore on and Draco began to come to the foundation nearly every weekend, he slowly developed a friendship with Ginevra, whom he refused to call anything but Girl Weasley to her face just to annoy her. She tried on a few annoying names for him, just to get under his skin back, and they made a game of which ones could irritate him most.
“Good morning, Girl Weasley,” Draco said, entering her office and plopping down in the seat opposite her desk, sitting a cup of her favourite coffee before her.
“And good morning to you, too, Ferret Face,” Ginevra said, flipping through paperwork, but pausing to take a sip of the coffee.
When her brows furrowed in concentration, Draco raised a brow. “Anything the matter?”
“Just that Gustav changed his mind on doing the woodworking class for some of the older students, but it has several kids signed up for it, and I don’t really have anyone else to do it.”
Draco shrugged. “When is it?”
“Sunday mornings from 9-10.”
“I could do it.”
Ginevra looked up from her paperwork and raised her eyebrows at him. “You? Who I have dragged from your bed at noon on Sundays more than once?”
“That’s only if we’ve had a crazy night on Saturday!” Draco defended himself, but Ginevra’s eyebrows remained raised. “Or if I’m being a lazy arse and having a bit of a lie in,” Draco conceded.
“Uh huh,” Ginevra laughed. “Or if you’ve taken someone home the night before. Don’t think I’ve forgotten the time I walked in on you and, what was his name, Christian , when we were supposed to be going to brunch that morning.”
“That was one time!” Draco exclaimed, blushing.
She was still laughing at him when the last person Draco expected to see walked through her door.
Potter came in flipping through some reports, not even noticing the room’s occupants.
“Gin, do you have the numbers on the enrolment this month? We got a few more applications for the Muggle Studies program, and I’d like to fit those kids in as soon as possible,” he said, still looking at his papers.
“Yeah, give me a sec,” Ginevra said, refusing to acknowledge the hippogriff in the room. She turned in her chair and dug through some papers in the filing cabinet beside her desk.
Draco was still staring at Boy Wonder, too dumbstruck for words. He hadn’t seen Potter in several years and he wasn’t the only one. Last he’d heard, Boy Wonder was usually off being a recluse in some Very Important Saviour Moping Business or some such. Like the whole world didn’t still fall all over itself adoring him.
When Potter finally looked up from his reports, it was two shocked expressions that turned to Ginevra. She looked back and forth between them and slowly smiled her most mischievous smile.
“Harry, I’m sure you remember Malfoy here. Blondie, we all know you remember Harry,” she smirked.
While Potter’s face swivelled back to Draco’s at the nickname, Draco questioned her.
“Girl Weasley, what is he doing here?”
Potter flushed with indignation and he found his voice. “What am I doing here? What are you doing here? Ginny, what the hell is he doing here?” Harry demanded.
Ginevra’s smile didn’t lessen in the least. “Well Harry, ole Ferret Face here has been volunteering with us for the last six months. And Blondie, let me introduce you to the President of For the Children .
Both of their faces were the definition of thunderstruck, but Draco recovered first.
“Girl Weasley, tell me you jest. They say this indolent sod has barely left his home in the last several years.”
“And why do you care what I spend my time doing?” Potter retorted.
“I don’t,” Draco defended, “But one cannot exist in this world without hearing your name bandied about constantly. I’d have to plug my ears and pluck out my eyes to escape news of you.”
“Well isn’t this off to a great start,” Ginevra grinned. “Why don’t I let you two get reacquainted since you’ll be seeing a lot more of each other. Harry has finally agreed to be a more visible member of the team here and Malfoy has just agreed to start teaching the woodworking class. The class starts tomorrow at nine , you ponce, so you better be here. Don’t make me come drag you out of bed again. Harry, the file you asked for is right on my desk. See you both later. Ta!”
She pranced out of the office before Draco could think of a word to stop her. He turned back to Potter. “Well, I guess I’ll go see about my new class, then.”
Potter didn’t bother responding, just glared at him and flounced out of the room in the direction Ginevra had disappeared.
Draco rolled his eyes after him. “A great start, indeed.”
Draco felt like he was back in sixth year. He saw Potter looking in on him all day when he was preparing for his class, or playing with the kids, or participating in someone else’s session. It’s like Potter still suspected Draco of being “up to something,” but what did he expect him to do here, kidnap a child?
Draco ignored him and went about his business. He was actually rather enjoying crafting a lesson for this woodworking class. He was used to working with certain designs as a wandmaker, but Draco was an artist. He was certain his creativity could branch out to other things to teach the kids.
Ginevra came into the classroom and looked over the small treasure boxes Draco was designing.
“Oh that’s nice. That’ll be a good starter project for them. Just a bit of cutting and nailing,” she said.
“Well, we’ll see about the nailing. Have to gauge how likely they are to maim themselves just cutting the sides.”
Ginevra laughed and Draco noticed Potter casually walk by the room and look in on them before swiftly moving away once he’d been spotted.
Draco raised a brow at the now-empty doorway. “How long do you think Potter will continue to spy on me as if I were going to abscond with a child like some fairy-tale villain?”
“Oh, Harry’s the suspicious sort. Never quite got over the habit after, well, you, and it doesn’t help that the media refuse to let him be and like to go sniffing around his neighbourhood looking for him. He’s always on the lookout for something or another. He’ll get over it as he gets used to you being here.”
Draco turned his raised brow on her. “We’ll see.”
*
“Mr. Potter is the elusive President, you say? Oh my, I had no idea,” his mother said when he visited her that evening and told her of this new development.
Draco watched her sip her tea and he narrowed his eyes, scanning her face.
“You knew, didn’t you? When did you find out? Why didn’t you tell me?!” Draco demanded.
Narcissa’s lips turned up into a small smile, caught out in her lie. “Well dear, I knew you’d react poorly. I didn’t know when you originally made the donation, but I came to find out some months later. And then you began volunteering and you were having so much fun working at the foundation. I suspected the revelation that Mr. Potter ran the organization would discourage you from participating.”
Draco blinked, not even having considered not going back to the foundation just because Potter was involved with it. But should he? Did he want to be involved with something Potter had a hand in? Did Draco want to risk running into him every weekend now that he was going to be there more? But could Draco really abandon the kids who had come to mean something to him?
“Oh dear, I see I’ve actually put the idea in your head,” his mother tutted. “My mistake. Perish the thought, darling. You belong at the foundation. The children love you and even Mr. Potter will come to recognise that. Don’t you have woodworking designs you were eager to show me?”
Draco didn’t forget her remark, but he let the change in topic distract him so he could think on the matter later. He showed his mother his ideas for the class and ran further plans by her, allowing himself to get excited again at the prospect of all he could teach his students.
*
True to both Ginevra’s and his mother’s words, Potter seemed to acclimate to Draco’s presence at the foundation. He continued looking in on Draco like some stalker for the first month or two, but then he started coming into the classes to see what Draco’s students were working on. He engaged with the children, helped with their projects, and watched how Draco interacted with everyone.
The way he looked at Draco changed, too. Less suspicious and more…friendly. Potter no longer spoke to Draco only when necessary and in the curtest manner possible, but engaged him in conversations about all manner of things. Where at first he only spoke when Ginevra was around as a buffer, now he sought Draco’s company on his own. Sometimes their talks became so engrossing that they forgot the children were about, a dangerous business when so many sharp objects were the woodworking tools.
Potter became “Harry” to Draco, and no one noticed the change quicker than Ginevra.
“So you and Harry have been spending a fair bit of time together,” she mentioned casually, feigning nonchalance as she checked her manicure while Draco cleaned up after his class.
“Have we?” he asked just as casually, sweeping wood shavings into the bin.
“You have indeed. He’s been intruding on my Draco time, in fact,” she confirmed.
“ Your Draco time?” he asked with an arched brow and a quirk of his lips.
“Oh, you know what I mean, you berk.”
Draco smiled fully and bumped shoulders with her, pleased that she missed his company, which Draco admitted had indeed been occupied in increasing proportion by Harry. He missed Ginevra and her scathing wit, too. He’d have to make sure they spent some time together, too.
“Fear not, Girl Weasley. We shall have our time. Let me finish this up and I’m free for the rest of the morning. We’ll go to the café and grab a cuppa and biscuits.”
“You grab a cuppa. I’d kill for a coffee right now. I’ll meet you in the lobby in 5.”
Draco was dumping the last of the shavings when Harry popped his head round the doorway.
“Hey Draco. Wanna go get a bite?”
“I’m sorry, Harry. I’m off to brunch with Ginevra, but we’ll meet up next time, yes?”
Draco didn’t think he’d imagined the disappointment on Harry’s face when he said, “Oh, yeah, alright, course. See ya then,” and disappeared back from around the door.
Draco frowned at the empty door, but brushed off the strange behaviour and prepared to leave with Ginevra.
*
“Next time” came that next weekend, and then the following weekend, and the one after that. Draco found himself hanging out with Harry almost as much as he was with Ginevra. He’d pop round Harry’s office or they’d grab lunch together. Sometimes, Harry would stick his head in Draco’s classroom and give him a look full of desperation and Draco would laugh, knowing it was a call for a break, so they’d escape the madness of a building full of children for a walk.
Draco knew they were truly friends when Harry invited him round his house for dinner. There was nothing terribly special about the evening, but as they sat on the couch, the flickering street lights lighting up Harry’s laughing face in the dark room, it struck Draco that Harry was beautiful and for the life of him, he didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed before.
Harry turned and caught him staring, a smile still on his face. “What?”
Draco blushed, begging the gods that the dark room hid it, and turned his eyes away. “Nothing.”
As he recounted the evening to Ginevra the next day, her eyes narrowed on his face before widening.
“You like him!” she crowed.
“I do not!” Draco felt himself flush.
“ You do ! This is brilliant.” Her smile turned impish. “But does he like you back? I must investigate.”
“Girl Weasley, do not -.”
But she was already scurrying from the room.
Draco waited for Harry to tease him after Ginevra’s “investigation”. Or treat him differently. Or something. And there was a change, but Draco couldn’t say he minded the longer looks, or warmer smiles, or casual touches. He was willing to admit he liked Harry, but only if Harry was willing to admit he liked Draco back.
*
Harry was in Draco’s class again. They were laughing at some joke when it happened, when Draco reached up a hand to playfully push Harry away. But instead of withdrawing his hand after the push, Draco let it linger, let it rest on Harry’s arm. Harry looked at it, smile still on his face and laughter in his eyes. And then he looked at Draco. And whatever he saw in Draco’s face eased the smile from his own. Turned the laughter in his eyes into lust.
Draco saw Harry’s eyes flicker down to his lips and Harry swayed closer. Draco felt himself lean in, too, like a gravitational pull he couldn’t control. But gradually. The slowest cosmic collision. And then-
“Mr. Malfoy, I don’t think this is turning out right,” Addison said, holding up his half-completed birdhouse.
Draco and Harry jumped back, cheeks flaming. Draco hurried to assist Addison and Harry mumbled that he should probably get back to work himself as he backed out of the room. Draco shot him one more look before he left and Harry returned his gaze, clearly embarrassed but eyes no less heated than before. Draco returned his attention to the kids lest he go explore exactly what those eyes were promising him.
*
Draco went to the club that night. Dancing with abandon to try and rid himself of the jittery energy Harry had left him with earlier. Draco knew he looked good and didn’t deny any of the men or women who wanted to dance with him that evening. His flirty smiles were free-flowing, but he never left the dancefloor with anyone who requested it.
Until an arm wrapped around his waist and moved their bodies together. First fast, and then slower to the sensual change in music. Draco let himself be led by this stranger who knew how to coax a body. Let himself be turned by the strong grip on his waist. Draco looked up and-
“Harry,” he said, surprised.
Harry quirked his mouth into a sharp grin and ran his hand through Draco’s hair. “Draco.”
Harry was dressed deliciously in dark jeans that hugged his arse and a tight white shirt that emphasised his muscles, opening at the collar to give Draco a tantalising peek at his chest. He maintained his grip on Draco’s waist and pulled him closer.
“I thought we could finish our conversation from earlier,” he said.
Draco smirked. “Oh? And what conversation was that?”
Harry smiled back at him and leaned in again. Slowly, as before, but this time aware and watching Draco’s eyes as if to make sure he hadn’t gotten it wrong. Draco’s smile widened and then he leaned in, closing the distance, erasing whatever doubt Harry may have been harbouring.
Collision.
Off to the side, Draco heard a, “Yeeesss! I knew it!” He withdrew from Harry and glanced away to see Ginevra doing her self-congratulatory jig, and laughing in their direction.
He smiled and called out to her, “Oi, you slag!”
She laughed again, gave him the two-finger salute, blew him a kiss, and grabbed a random bloke to dance with her.
Draco turned questioning eyes on Harry, who shrugged and said, “She told me where to find you.”
“Ah. Well, allow me to tell you where we’ll be leaving her.” Draco unwrapped Harry’s arms from his waist and grabbed his hand, dragging him off the dancefloor and out of the club, waving to Ginevra as they went.
They’d barely reached the apparition point before Draco swept them away to his flat, kissing Harry again the moment he could press him against a flat surface. And it was hot and heady and thrilling. Wild and untamed.
Harry dived deeper into the kiss, his arms finding their way back around Draco’s waist like it was an anchor in whatever storm was brewing between them. Draco clenched his fists in Harry’s hair and allowed Harry to turn them around so that he was the one against the door.
Draco pulled the hair in his grasp, making Harry groan and kiss him harder than before. Harry bent and lifted Draco by his thighs, making Draco wrap his legs around Harry’s waist to maintain his balance.
“Bedroom. Where is your bedroom?” Harry groaned against Draco’s lips.
Draco waved an arm behind Harry’s head that he couldn’t see, refusing to give up Harry’s lips again to talk .
Harry stumbled down the hallway blindly, hanging on to Draco and pushing open doors until he found the bedroom. He walked through and shut the rest of the world out for the night.
*
“Gooood morning, sleepyheads!” Ginevra said, bursting into Draco’s bedroom and disturbing the two men sleeping there.
Draco groaned. “Girl Weasley, do you mind ?”
“Not at all!” she said, climbing onto the end of the large bed and sitting cross-legged at their feet.
Harry rubbed his eyes as he sat up. “Ginny, we’re starkers.”
“Yeah, I figured, what with where you are and all. Not to mention you leaving the club directly after your first kiss ! I can tell it wasn’t your last, eh?” She wagged her eyebrows at them and Draco buried his head back under the cover.
“Can you get out until we get dressed?” Harry asked.
“It’s not like I haven’t seen the both of you naked,” she said, causing Harry to cut his eyes in Draco’s direction in question. “But seeing you together is new. Give us a peek, hmm?”
“Are you quite done, Girl Weasley?” Draco asked from under the covers.
Ginevra grinned mischievously where he couldn’t see. “Oh, I’m just getting started,” she said as she hopped off the bed and ripped the covers off them.