Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Harry shot up in bed, groaning at the pain in his temples.  It felt like he was in a vice and he could barely think. Slowly, he put on his glasses and pulled over a notebook to write down the contents of his dream.  He rubbed his temples and looked out the window, where he could see the pink and orange hues of sunrise and smiled to himself.  Today was the day the Malfoys came and picked him up so he could stay with them.  They were going to be going to the Quidditch World Cup final tournament - Draco had excitedly written about it in his letters, and Harry couldn’t be more thrilled.  He had never seen a professional Quidditch match before.

Then again, Harry had a lot left to see.

While he listened to his uncle and cousin snore in their beds, Harry fed Hedwig, who hooted happily and fluttered her wings.  He made sure all of his things were packed up and his bed was made before leaving his room.  That had been the newest development this year.  He hadn’t been locked in his room, and instead enjoyed the freedom, whatever little it was, that came from being able to stretch his legs about the house if he couldn’t sleep.  Going to the bathroom, he relieved himself before brushing his teeth and combing his unruly hair.  He would need to get it cut at some point before school.  Prodding at it lightly with his fingers, he exited the bathroom as he heard the radio alarm in his aunt and uncle’s room go off.

Harry made his way down the stairs and quietly set the table as he listened to the sound of the shower turn on.  He put on the kettle and the coffee before putting on the pan for a fry up, sliced some tomatoes and put them on his aunt and uncle’s plates before putting on the ham, beans, eggs and toast.  Workday mornings were always early.  

“I see you’ve gotten started.”

“Yes, Aunt Petunia.”  

Petunia nodded her head, but looked displeased.  Harry used to think she was displeased at his cooking, until he discovered she was usually, if not always displeased with his existence.  She poured herself a mug of tea before sitting at the table and opening her magazine.  “Fetch the paper, will you?”

Turning the food onto a lower setting, Harry pulled on his shoes and left the house.  He gathered the Times from the end of the park and on his way towards the porch heard a hoot and caught the Daily Prophet from a delivery owl.  Making his way inside, he closed the door and left the Prophet off to the side of the sink while he cooked, eying it.  His uncle had grumbled the first morning it was delivered but a nervous tutting from Petunia kept him from saying anything more.  He left the Times by Vernon’s plate.

“I’ll be down in a minute, boy.  My coffee best be at my seat!”

Making up two plates of food - everything for his uncle and eggs, ham and toast for his aunt.  Harry set the two plates on the table before placing a large, oven safe plate of things in the oven to keep warm for Dudley.  He poured hot coffee with lots of milk and sugar for his uncle before setting it down on the table by the Times.  Instead of sitting at the table, Harry buttered two pieces of toast and set a slice of ham and tomato on the toast before taking a bite.  Ignoring the sputtering noise of his aunt as he pulled the twine off the Prophet and spread it on the smooth tile top beside the sink.

He had long since learned to stop asking and expecting things from the Dursleys and instead took.  Harry chewed as he listened to Vernon settle into his chair and turned the page of his news paper as he read an article on a series of raids the Ministry of Magic was doing.  His expression dropped at the fact a series of Dark objects had been found near Muggle homes or in possession of Muggles.  That was serious and dangerous.  Thankfully, a series of people had been arrested and were under investigation.  The list got scanned for the names for anyone familiar. There was none that he could see.

“Quit reading that rubbish and get me some more breakfast.”

Suppressing the very strong urge to roll his eyes and sneer, Harry took a bite of his sandwich and abandoned his post by the sink and took Vernon’s plate.  He filled it with seconds and handed it back to him.  It took all he could not to fling the food in the man’s face or keep him from making an over-dramatic delivery.  He wasn’t a House-elf.  Perhaps if the man got off his fat arse once in a while he’d lose a stone or two.  

Harry hid his snort of a laugh in a cough.  He was starting to turn into Draco.  And damn if that thought didn’t make him smile.  He poured himself orange juice with a grin.  Draco would be proud of him for this.  For changing from the broken, battered servant to a smart-mouthed, glaring boy worthy of Slytherin.  There were still moments, of course, and triggers that set Harry off, and he figured there would be for a long time yet, but from where he had been two years ago when the Malfoys rescued him, to where he was now, seemed like a lifetime.  Seemed like someone else’s life, actually.

He read about the ongoing hunt for Sirius Black and his mind wandered to his Godfather.  He hoped the other was safe, where ever he was, and that he was comfortable.  It was still strange to think about, but he had been innocent when he had been imprisoned.  Mentally sending off his best wishes for the man, he took his time when he reached an article written by Pansy’s mother on whether or not Dark Arts should be taught in schools.  It was thoughtful and informative and, for the most part, unbiased.  Harry made a mental note to write Pansy and tell her he liked the article.  

“Have a good day at work, dear.”

Harry looked up from his paper and watched as Petunia walked Vernon to the door.  He folded his paper and gathered the dirty dishes to was, just managing to set them in the pan to drip dry when Petunia walked in and handed him a list of things to finish.  It was long and Harry swallowed down a groan.  She had planned on working him to exhaustion while she still had him.  Or to keep him around to his embarrassment when the Malfoys arrived and he hadn’t finished.

He set off to work.

Luckily, they’d assigned him the outdoor tasks yesterday, possibly out of fear that they Malfoys would show up before he could finish, and that they would have to do the work themselves.

Laundry was next, which always took a long time, due to the sheer amount of fabric that went into Vernon and Dudley’s clothes.  Once the first load was in, he got started on clearing off the bathroom counters and scrubbing them down.  After that was the sink and bathtub.  Once he was finished with that, he switched the laundry into the dryer and added in load two.  With that running, he started on the bathroom floor.

The cycle continued like that until Harry had three baskets full of neatly folded clothes, and the bathroom and hallway were spotless.  He put away all the clothes (one basket for Uncle Vernon, half of one for Aunt Petunia, and one and a half for Dudley), and then got started on the dusting.

By the time he got done with that, it was time to fix Dudley’s lunch - three turkey sandwiches stacked high with cheese, with two sodas and nearly half a bag of crisps - and then it was off to vacuum the living room.

As he did that, the radio on the mantle played a catchy pop song for the fourth time in the past hour.  It would bother him more if the song hadn’t been stuck in his head now, and he started quietly singing along as he vacuumed.

“Don’t turn around,”  He murmured, swaying slightly as he tried to get up a particularly stubborn group of crisp crumbs.  “‘Cause you gunna see my heart breaking.”

The combination of the music and the noisy machine made it so that he missed the sound of knocking on the door, as well as the slightly panicked spell that followed. “Don’t turn around, I don’t want you seeing me cry.”

Finally getting up the last of the stray bits, he swung the vacuum around, and catching the three sets of curious eyes watching him.

Harry went red and choked off mid-word, stumbling backward until he tripped over the cord and felt backward, sprawled out in a remarkably undignified manner.  There was a moment of silence before Draco burst out laughing.

Sitting up and rubbing his lower back, Harry reached with free hand to shut off the machine and glared at the other boy.  “Git,”  He growled, giving a severe frown. This did not deter Draco in the least, and in fact only made Narcissa’s lips twitch like she wanted to join her son.  

Finally managing to get back on his feet, Harry felt his irritation drain away.  “Hello.  Now that we’ve gotten my humiliation out of the way, shall I go get my stuff?”

“Oh, of all the moment’s not to have a camera.  Pansy’s going to kill me.”  Draco ran a hand though his hair, making a few light stands fall into his face.  Harry looked away quickly.  

He started up the stairs, calling over his shoulder, “You tell Pansy about this and it’ll be war.”

Draco followed after, looking unimpressed by his threat.  “I don’t think you know anything humiliating about me that she doesn’t already know.”

Thinking for a moment, Harry replied, “She doesn’t know how much you like those Muggle cartoon movies.  I’m sure she’d have a blast with that.”

“You’d have to explain what they are, first.  Too much effort.”

Harry entered his room and threw the ratty pillow, hitting Draco in the face.  “All I have to say is cute talking animals, and draw a couple of pictures.  That’s all she’d need.”

Flopping down on the bed and tossing the pillow onto the edge of it, Draco shrugged.  “You wouldn’t do that.  You’re too much of a bleeding heart.  Besides, you like me too much for that.”

Something about the tone made Harry turn to look at him for just a second.  The blonde’s face was teasing, but his eyes had just a hint of something serious behind them.   “Yeah, I suppose I do.  I’m kind of an idiot like that.”

The serious glint turned into something warm, and it made Draco’s eyes look almost molten.  Harry looked back away.  “It just proves I managed to make you develop some taste.”  He declared, and Harry snickered as he lifted up his trunk.

After a couple of glares and pointed hints, Draco reluctantly helped Harry get the trunk and Hedwig’s cage downstairs.  As they made their way back to the door, he spotted his aunt’s eyes tracking him with dislike and suspicion, before the kitchen door shut with a deep, heavy noise.

Turning to Narcissa and Lucius, who were eyeing the door with a frosty sort of disapproval, he asked as cheerfully as he could, “Back to the Manor, then?”

They Apparated with the familiar squeezing, graying feeling as normal and popped back into existence at the Manor.  Harry let Draco drag him up to his room and Harry walked inside with a light feeling of joy.  He spotted Ananta lounging on a branch of a false tree in a flood of sunlight.  He crossed to the snake which lifted his head before moving to wrap around Harry in greeting.  Harry stroked his fingers over the snake, smiling lazily at the familiar weight against his shoulders.  

“Missed him, did you?”

“Missed this.”  Harry crossed to the bed and sat down, toeing off his shoes and lying back against the headboard.  “It’s amazing what a week away can do.  It makes me feel itchy and restless and trapped.  It astonishes me how I put up with it for years.”

“You didn’t know different.”  Draco’s voice was low and careful and he slid onto the bed and stretched out next to Harry and looked up at the ceiling.  “Now you’re just learning that you’re worth more than the things they put you through.”

Harry was quiet for a long moment before he looked over at Draco and smiled softly.  “Thanks.”

“It’s true.  You’re a powerful wizard, an advanced potioneer, and a very good friend.”

Harry eyed Draco for a long moment, not saying anything, before he gave a slow nod.  “Who are you and what did you do to Draco Malfoy?”

Draco snorted quietly and smacked him on the back of the head, making him laugh.  “Shut it, you.  I can’t have layers?”

“Of course you can, it’s just terrifying when you reveal them.”

Draco shook his head with a look of disbelief.  “Want to get some lunch?”

“I could stand to eat.”

Draco poked Harry in the ribs and smirked at the squeak Harry made.  “You could always stand to eat.”  

Draco climbed from the bed and watched as Harry did the same.  They made their way to the dining room and Draco called out for Dobby.

“Dobby is here.  What can Dobby be getting?”

“I’ll take a turkey sandwich and some macaroni salad.  Harry, what did you want?”

“That sounds good.”

Dobby bowed, his ears flapping and he moved from the room with a crack.  Under a minute later their spots had two plates of food and a glass of pumpkin juice each.  Harry took a bite of his sandwich and watched as Draco stood from the table and crossed to a small hutch.  Draco pulled out a deck of cards and a cribbage board and set the deck of cards on the table and it shuffled before dealing out cards.  The board set up and Harry picked up his hand.  

This is what he loved.  Simple, calm things with Draco.

~*~

Harry went to bed early and woke late, despite having the same reoccurring nightmares.  He slept through breakfast and it was almost noon by the time he made his way into the library.  Draco was sitting in the bay window, reading, and Harry watched him quietly.  He loved to watch Draco when he was relaxed and sure no one was looking at him.  He sat with a relaxed posture and his mouth moved minimally as he read to retain the information.  Harry realized Draco was taking notes as he read, doing so with such an ease that he needn’t look over to the parchment as he wrote.  Harry was sure that the lines would be straight and that his small, loopy, neat writing would be clean.  

Making noise as he walked further into the room, Harry watched and smiled as Draco lifted his head from the page of the book, his left hand still moving as he wrote.  

“Morning.”

“Afternoon,”  Draco corrected lightly, giving an impish grin.

“What are you reading?”

“Theoretical Transfiguration.”  

Harry gave a mute nod and crept closer, looking down at Draco.  His hand was smudged with ink and there was a sticky black line over one of his left cheek and across his nose.  Draco had a habit of touching his face when he was thinking.  

“Professor McGonagall would be proud.”

Draco gave a rolling snort and slipped a piece of leather into the book and closed it.  He spelled his hands clean and Harry pointed to his own face to show Draco where else he was marked.  Draco did away with it quickly.  Harry felt a small pang when he realized that he could technically use magic outside of school again.  

He made sure to make a note to practice his potions before the World Cup.  

“Hungry?”

Harry nodded his head.  “Yeah.  Suppose it’s too late for breakfast.”

“Not at all.  Come on, we’ll get you well and fed.”

The day passed in the normal blur of magic and gentle warmth, and soon Harry found himself in his bed again, unwilling to go back to sleep and face the nightmares.  Absentmindedly, he raised a hand to rub against his scar.  It throbbed with a sort of phantom pain, as he remembered the way it had felt after that nightmare.

He already knew that scar pain matched up to Voldemort being up to something, but now that time separated him from that dream, he couldn’t really remember much.  There had been Voldemort, an old man, and a creepy run down house, a giant snake, Pettigrew, and someone else...

Snorting, Harry rolled his eyes.  And you were there... and you were there... Really, unless he could remember more than that the information was pretty useless.

Then again, it might only seem that way because he lacked background information. And it was kind of stupid to keep anything about Voldemort to himself, wasn’t it?

What to do...

The decision was taken out of his hand when a brightly coloured bird tapped at the window to Malfoy Manor.  Harry let it in, carefully avoiding it’s vicious looking beak.  He’d learned his lesson last time.  He took the note from it and let it perch where it pleased while it waited for his reply.

This was the second letter Harry had gotten from Sirius this summer. According to them, the man was enjoying himself somewhere to the south, out of the Ministry’s range.  If Harry had to venture a guess, he’d say some place in South America, due to the birds.  Then again, he wasn’t sure he was being told the truth at all.  If he was trying to lay low, why send these very obvious birds?  Hedwig was fairly distinctive, but not so much as anything not native to Europe.  It seemed more likely he was closer, and didn’t want Harry to know for some reason.  Maybe the notion that he would worry to much - Sirius was a Gryffindor, after all.

So far the correspondence had been very warm, and were Harry a bit more trusting he’d no doubt be spilling his heart to the man.  The idea of writing to him about the dream came less from wanting to get it off his chest, and more from the fact that it was a very Godfather/Godson thing to do, and that idea made a little ember of warmth form in Harry’s stomach.

Harry decided that telling Severus (he was slowly getting used to that.  Very slowly) would also be wise, if only because the professor was the person Harry trusted most not to sugar coat things for him.  But this was the sort of thing he’d rather talk about then write - if nothing else, it had less chance of somehow ending up in the wrong hands.

Scribbling down something quickly, Harry handed it back to the maybe-an-actual-tropical-bird, which eyed him like it was wondering how much damage it could do in the least amount of time, and flew back off.

Shutting the door behind it, Harry flopped back in the bed and stared at Hedwig’s empty cage.  Movement caught his eye, and he turned to see Ananta making his way off the rock and into Harry’s bed to curl himself around the boy’s waist, like a fancy belt.  The snake had been growing, he realized with a bit of a jolt.  Now he was nearly a meter long, and it took a few coils before he managed to get comfortable.

“You smell anxious.”  Ananta informed him, flicking his tail against Harry’s side.

Chuckling, Harry ran his finger’s down his back, tracing the white and dark red patterns.  “I suppose I would.”

“Will I be needed to help with this?”  The snake sounded both willing and reluctant.  Really, he was starting to get a bit lazy.  Harry should try working with him more, if only to give him something to do other than chase mice.  Though, chasing rats seemed like a very good idea now.

“I do not believe so.”  He replied, and Ananta shifted as though pleased.

Harry continued to pet the creature, enjoying the slick warmth of it.  The movements of the coils were rhythmic and soothing.  Almost like counting sheep.

Slowly, Harry’s movements started to falter, and he relaxed into the bed.

Right before he fell asleep, he thought he heard a hiccuping sort of hiss, almost like a laugh.

“Silly human.  You do not even know when you need aid.  I will have to watch over you.”

That night, Harry slept without nightmares.

~*~

The next few days had been filled with getting Ananta to finally do his job.  Harry blamed himself for letting the snake get so lazy.  However, once they got into the rhythm the snake loved working with potions almost as much as Harry.  He would coil around the bubbling pewter cauldron with a delighted hiss as Harry and Draco worked on familiar and unfamiliar things to test their abilities and to help around the house.  Harry had finally managed to make an extra strong headache cure that had turned out to be handy when Lucius had a bad day dealing with politicians.  

Right now Harry was relaxing in the back gardens by the pool, watching Draco splash about in a surprisingly dignified manner.  A tawny owl swooped over the pool as Draco dove and landed next to Harry’s lounge chair.  Harry tossed the owl - Nimue - a treat and watched as she ate it happily.  He untied the letter from Pansy and watched as the owl took flight again.  Harry had been writing her since he arrived back at the Manor.  He knew that despite all of her gossipy behaviour he could trust her when it came down to the important things.

And this was important.

Harry looked over at Draco, who was doing laps, before he unrolled the letter and pushed up his sunglasses to read.  

Harry grinned at the letter before folding it up and tucking it into his shorts as he reclined back and pulled on his sunglasses.

“Who was that from?”

Harry opened his closed eyes and looked over at Draco, who was patting his arms and legs dry before draping his towel over his shoulders.  Harry pushed away his thoughts; Draco was his best friend, he shouldn’t think of him like that, and let his head fall back against the back of the chair.

“Pansy.  She says hi.  She’s excited for this weekend.”

“Too right she is.  It’s going to be amazing.”

Harry heard movement and the sound of a bottle being opened and squinted over at Draco again.  He was drinking some lemonade that the elves had brought out.  Harry stared for a moment, before biting back a groan and shoving his glasses and sunglasses on top of his head as he scrubbed at his eyes.  He was going crazy.  This couldn’t be happening.  

“Are you going to come in?”

“Huh?”  

Draco draped his towel over the back of his chair and stretched languidly.  “For a swim.  Are you coming?”

“Oh.  No thanks.  I’m enjoying the sun.”

Draco nodded his head absently and Harry watched him as he padded his way over to the deep end of the pool.  Draco climbed up the ladder to the diving board and bounced on the end, checking the spring.  Backing up a bit, Draco ran up the board and leaped when he hit the edge.  He hit excellent height and arced slowly, pulling into a dive before plunging into the water with minimal splash.  Harry watched him resurface and toss his damp, slightly curled hair from his eyes.

His stomach tightened.

He was screwed.