Chapter Text
The wind howled outside as ice crept across the floor. The cold caressed his cheeks in a bitter embrace. He felt nothing as the numbness crept deeper and deeper beneath his skin. The screams heard outside his cell barely registered in his ears, nor did the sound of metal slamming against brick. Hands grabbed at his arms, pulling him to his feet, and he just barely managed to lift his head to take in the faces of the two men before him.
He didn't recognize them or the words they spoke. It sounded as if they were talking beneath water, and the deafening wind did nothing to amplify their voices. Watching as one of the men pulled out their wand, he strained to hear the spell spoken from his lips, and he barely managed to recognize what spell he was casting before he felt a familiar tug at his abdomen.
The biting cold immediately was stamped out as heat wrapped around him like a blanket. It felt like fire against his skin. However, he didn't get long to process the heat before a strong wave of nausea washed over him. Doubling over, a groan of discomfort escaped his lips, and he had to inhale deeply to keep himself from losing the very little food left in his stomach.
The two men who had escorted him here seemed to take pity on him, giving him a short chance to recover, only nudging him forward once he straightened up on his own. He felt them push him towards a set of double doors, which begin to slowly open—as if recognizing the presence of the guards. Walking through, he finally took in the building around him. The familiar sight of the Ministry of magic sent a sudden, visceral sense of dread through his body as memories flashed through his mind.
Green eyes, whispers, and stares—before a gavel banged hard and heavy on wood.
Five years—five years in Azkaban and one year of community service—that's what the judge had saddled him with, Harry Potter's protests barely causing a dent in the cheers and jeers of the crowd. It had been a mercy compared to most other sentencing, but… five years? Five years felt like a death sentence.
Draco pulled his thoughts away from the past and back into the present. As he was guided through the dimly lit halls of the Ministry, he was grateful for the low lighting that still seemed too bright. His eyes remained on the ground in front of him, determined to avoid the eyes of anyone they passed, and he did his best to focus only on the sound of his old shoes hitting the surface of the marble floor. With the lack of wind within the building, Draco could finally make out every little noise around him—the ticking of the clock a few rooms over, the whispers and the squeaking of shoes, and the overwhelming, horrible stillness. He was entirely too overwhelmed to even comprehend where he was being taken.
As the two guards pulled him into a lift, the only sounds that could be heard were the movement of the machine and their own breathing. The soft voices of the two behind him were drowned out by his own thoughts as his mind drifted off to what was to come. Had it truly been five years? Time seemed to be at a standstill in Azkaban. He could feel himself growing older, yet it felt as if no clocks were ticking as each day and night dragged on.
Compared to the other sentences, Draco knew that he couldn't complain. His own father had been sentenced to life. The short time he spent there was nothing. However, they had been the longest years of his life. Memories of the shrieking cries of dementors and screams of terror would forever haunt his dreams, and he didn't think the feeling of ice in his bones would ever truly thaw.
The opening of the lift's doors pulled him out of his thoughts, and he stepped forward on his own to get out. He patiently waited for the two ministry workers to make their way out before they nudged him forward again. He hoped to prolong the trip to what he assumed to be the Minister's office as long as possible. What if they decided to leave him in even longer? The thought of ever returning to Azkaban sent a wave of cold terror up his spine.
Quickly shaking that thought from his head, Draco took a deep breath to ease his creeping anxiety and forced his mind to focus solely on his feet once more. He counted each step he took, placing his feet only on the center of each tile and avoiding the spaces between them. If it weren't for the men stopping him from moving forward, he would have run nose-first right into an intricately carved door. And, sure enough to his worries, the metal plate at the center of the door read 'Minister of Magic.' Every once of anxiety that he'd eased immediately rushed back.
A rough flinch wracked through his body as one of the men reached around him to knock at the door. As he dug his nails into his palm to ground himself, Draco watched the door click open and had to force himself to pick up his feet to move forward, hesitating to meet the eyes of the Minister. However, the anxiety he felt was replaced immediately with shock as he took in not one but two familiar faces within the office.
Kingsley Shacklebolt, the acting Minister who had sentenced him, was still standing behind the desk, but it was not him who caused such shock. Those bright green eyes were staring him down from the right side of the desk, a warm smile on his face. Harry Potter was standing right there, smiling at him, and he looked so different. Of course, Draco recognized him instantly, but he was much changed from their last meeting. He was older, his hair was shorter, and he was here.
"Mister Malfoy, welcome back." Shacklebolt's voice broke Draco's gaze away from Harry and back to the man behind the desk. "If it is alright, Mister Potter has come to discuss your release and plans for your community service. He also brought you a change of clothes if you would like to change into something more comfortable before we begin."
Harry held up a small bag in his right hand at the mention of clothes. "I brought you some of mine. They may be slightly big, but we can get new ones when we leave." He explained with a sheepish grin, to which Draco did his best to offer a small smile in return. Though, it was more of a twitch of the lips than anything. The muscles in his face still felt rather stiff.
"Thanks, Potter." Draco internally cringed at the sound of his own voice, the rasp from disuse very prevalent. He moved forward to take the bag from his hands, wrapping his fingers around the handle firmly to keep from dropping it. Harry dropped the bag into his hand, and Draco let it fall to his side.
Shacklebolt gestured towards the door at the back of the office. "The loo is there. Take your time," he informed him, to which Draco offered back a brief nod. Sparing one last glance at Harry's face, he made his way around the man and desk to push open the bathroom door, letting it click shut behind him.
The second Draco was alone, he dropped the bag to the floor and leaned back against the door, reaching up to rub at his face. All of this was too much. He'd had little to no human interaction in the last five years. Now, here he was, about to have an entire conversation when all he wanted was to go home and hide for the next month, maybe two—hell, perhaps he'd hole up there for the next few years. He stared up at the ceiling, letting his head fall back against the door, willing himself to get up and move.
It took a minute or so, but he eventually pushed himself off the door to grab the bag from the floor. He avoided looking into the mirror as he began to undress, allowing his uniform to fall to the floor. He was more than happy to see it go. Looking towards the sink, he hesitantly approached it to finally take in his appearance and grabbed a paper towel to clean himself up.
Draco barely recognized the face looking back at him, almost convinced that someone must be playing a cruel joke. His face was slightly sunken, and he could see the outline of his ribs from the lack of proper nutrition. He looked almost skeletal or ghostly with how much paler he was than before, and his under eyes were purple from lack of sleep. To be blunt, he looked bloody awful. Not to mention dirty. His hair, now long enough to brush his shoulders, was matted and filthy, and his skin was covered in dirt. How he longed for a shower.
Unfortunately, the man would have to settle for a wet paper towel and his hands. Taking a few minutes to clean what dirt he could and using his fingers to try and detangle his hair, Draco felt a bit better about his appearance. He was hoping whatever clothes Harry brought made him look at least slightly presentable and not homeless. He looks down at the bag next to his foot and sighs, reaching down to pull out the clothes.
Once dressed, Draco could see just how much weight he'd lost. What size used to fit him like a glove looked too big, and he self-consciously pulled on the jacket Harry provided over the soft, cotton flannel covering his arms. The fullness of the coat helped, but he couldn't do anything about the baggy trousers that barely stayed on his waist. Eyeing himself once more, he decided that this was as good as it would get and stepped away from the mirror.
Making his way out of the bathroom, Draco peered into the office, the soft chatter he could hear through the door immediately ceasing. Trying to keep at least a little of his dignity, he pushed away the feeling of awkwardness and cleared his throat, moving into the office to sit next to Harry, who was in front of Kingsley's desk.
"Sorry for making you wait." Draco apologized, offering the two a polite smile. His voice still sounded off, but he knew it would return to normal over time. He just needed to keep using it. Hopefully, it sounded better to the other two men than it did to him. He always was overly self-critical.
"It was no problem, Mister Malfoy. We were happy to wait." Shacklebolt smiled and looked down at a stack of papers before him. "You were sentenced to five years and a year of community service. However, thanks to Mr. Potter, your sentence was altered to only three years and one year of community service."
Draco's head snapped over to Harry with wide eyes. It had only been three years? How had he managed to do that? If he were being honest, Draco shouldn't be too surprised. When Harry Potter sets his mind to something, he usually manages to do it. Not to mention the connections he had more than likely made during and after the war were at his disposal.
"It took a while, but I never stopped fighting for you, Malfoy. You were dealt a bad hand. If I had been able to, community service would be the only thing you would have had to do. You didn't deserve Azkaban." Harry spoke up for the first time since he arrived at the office, determination evident in his voice—as it always was. It pulls a genuine smile onto Draco's face.
"I think I have to disagree with you, Potter. A shocker I know." Draco let out a self-deprecating laugh and glanced down at his hands in his lap. He looked back up to meet the other's gaze, cringing at the pity in the man's eyes. "But thank you for your help. I don't think I can ever pay you back, not for this. You're a better man than me, that's for certain."
His words receive a smile and a shake of the head from the wizard. "The only thing I want from you is to allow me to help you move forward. I was just explaining to the Minister that I have a few ideas for your community service, but I wanted your opinion before making a decision." Harry reached into his jacket pocket, slipping a piece of paper over to Draco, who took it into his hands.
After reading it over, he looked back to Harry. "I know I don't have the right to ask this of you. You've already been so helpful and have every right to say no. I wanted to know if you had something that wasn't… here." Draco glanced back to the paper to reread the different suggestions. Each one seemed like fine work, but he didn't think he could stay anywhere near London; too many memories and knowing eyes.
Harry's expression turned thoughtful before his eyes lit up, turning to look at Shacklebolt. "If it's okay with you, Charlie Weasley had mentioned that the dragon reserve in Romania was short staffed. I could talk with him about possibly sending Mister Malfoy with him to do his service there. He'd just need approval from his reserve if he's alright with setting it up."
Shacklebolt nodded in approval. "I have no issues with this. I will need confirmation by the end of the holidays. If this does not go through, Mister Malfoy will need to settle with one of the previous options." The older man turned his attention onto Draco, raising a brow. "Is this agreeable to you, Mister Malfoy?"
Romania? Draco had never been, and the idea of working with dragons made him a bit antsy. However, it was a much better option than he deserved, and he was more than grateful for the opportunity. With that thought in mind, he hummed softly in agreement.
"It is more than reasonable, Minister Shacklebolt. Thank you." Draco turned his head to Harry to thank him, but the other held up a hand, effectively shutting the blond up. Clearly, Harry had a knack for doing so, considering he's been doing it since their first year of Hogwarts. It seemed like so long ago now. They've both grown significantly since then.
"There's no need to thank me again. I'm more than happy to help you, but it still isn't confirmed. We can talk to Charlie about it this evening." Taking notice of Draco's confused gaze, Harry glanced back to Shacklebolt, eyes hesitant. The Minister straightened in his seat and turned his attention to the blond. The serious look on each of their faces sent doubts and assumptions flying through Draco's mind.
"Mister Malfoy, I regret to inform you that the Malfoy Manor was destroyed last fall due to a recent group of protestors who've started calling themselves 'activists'. They've been taken into custody, but we could not do much about reconstruction while you were in Azkaban. We placed spells over what was left to preserve it, but it is not in any sort of living condition." Shacklebolt explained to him before he gestured toward Harry. "Mister Potter offered to lend you a temporary place to stay until you can get your assets sorted and make a decision about your living situation."
The news should devastate him. The only home he's ever known—gone. However, he couldn't help but feel a sort of relief at the idea that the house of his torment had been destroyed. In a way, it was therapeutic. If he were being honest with himself, Draco had been dreading the idea of returning to Malfoy Manor, the thought filling him with intense anxiety. He had very few happy memories left of his familial home, his mother being the only person he looked forward to seeing each time he returned. However, she was gone, and he had no desire to fix the place up.
"No need to keep it preserved. I'm going to sell the property. You may want to bring in a curse breaker before tearing it down though. There are many cursed objects hidden within the manor, or what's left of it." Draco fidgeted with the sleeves of his–or, well, of Harry's—coat. Growing up, the mere thought of losing the Malfoy Manor would have angered him beyond belief. Now, he couldn't get rid of it soon enough.
"If you're sure. Thank you for letting me know. With that settled, you'll need to go to Gringotts to sort out the rest of your financials between now and when you leave for Romania. If that works out, of course." Shacklebolt rose to his feet with Harry not far behind. Taking that as his cue, Draco stood as well, glancing down at the hand offered across the table. "Good luck, Mister Malfoy. I will be in touch."
Taking the Minister's hand into his own, Draco gave it a light shake and offered the man a brief smile. "Thank you again, Sir. I look forward to your reaching out. I will let you know for sure about the Romania situation as soon as it's confirmed." Pulling his hand back, he looked at Harry as he began his own goodbyes.
The two men finished exchanging pleasantries, and Harry turned his full attention back onto Draco. "I have one more surprise for you before we leave. Then we can head back to my place. Is that alright?" The man questioned as he made his way toward the office door, grabbing the handle to pull it open and gesturing for Draco to follow.
Nodding his head, Draco made his way to the door, saying one last goodbye to Shacklebolt before taking his leave. He followed Harry down the hall, staying close so as to not grow lost in the Ministry's halls. He barely remembered how to navigate the place—it was just a vague haze of a memory in his head. It felt like walking for the first time in a place you've only seen in a dream. In fact, all of this felt like a dream. A really, really good dream.
Draco couldn't help but pinch his wrist, the pain easing the anxious thoughts of none of this being real. He really was being led through the Ministry of Magic by the one and only Harry Potter. He was free. No more cold, hunger-filled nights. No more shrieking dementors. No more screams of horror. For the first time in a long time, Draco felt joy. While his time in Azkaban and the war leading up to his sentence would always haunt his nightmares, he could finally live a life of peace and solitude.
"Draco?"
Draco's head snapped up, finally realizing that the two of them had ceased walking. Harry looked concerned, seeming hesitant as his hand hovered in the air. He felt embarrassed as he processed how the man had more than likely been trying to get his attention for the last minute. Quickly apologizing and voicing that he was, in fact, alright, Harry's shoulders relaxed, and a smile replaced his frowning lips.
"Your gift is in here." Harry was more than enthusiastic in his wording as he practically threw open the door, leading Draco in behind him. A woman behind a long, oak counter jumped in surprise before smiling brightly and scurrying through a door. She reappeared just as quickly as she left, now holding a long wooden box that Draco instantly recognized as a wand case.
Looking over to Harry for reassurance, Draco received a brief nod and smile. Immediately his pulse began to quicken as he all but sprinted across the room. He met the kind eyes of the woman behind the counter who held out the box, and he reached up to very carefully take it into his own hands— almost as if he was afraid it would shatter beneath his fingers.
Draco hesitated. All eagerness slipped from his body, quickly replaced by unease. What if it didn't feel the same as the last time he held it in his hands? What if the weight was off or it rejected him? He wasn't the same man he was then. Taking a deep breath, the blond carefully opened the box, eyes running along the intricately carved wand. He allowed his fingers to graze over the small divots, shivering as a light tingle ran up his arm. Throwing caution to the wind, he fully wrapped his fingers around the wand and pulled it out of the case.
The feeling that washed over him was nothing short of magical. It felt like the first time he had held it in his hands, the memories of Ollivander's humble shop warming his very soul. Holding the wand out, he re-familiarized himself with the feeling of the weight in his hand. It truly felt like an extension of himself, and he forgot how much he missed the feeling of it in his hand.
A bright smile escaped him, a youthful giddiness lighting up his features. A laugh bubbled up in his chest, and he turned to Harry eagerly, like a new life was breathed into his lungs. "Thank you. For all of this. I'd be lost if it weren't for all your help." His thanks earned a warm smile from Harry, who shook his head in response. Before he could reject it, however, Draco spoke up once more. "I'm serious, Potter. Please just accept my thanks."
Laughing softly, Harry grinned sheepishly and nodded in understanding. "You're welcome. I'm happy to help." He smiled at the woman behind the counter before offering an arm out for the blond to grab ahold of. "Ready to get out of here? I have lunch at the house that is calling my name."
The mention of food caused Draco's stomach to rumble, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. He prayed to Merlin that no one had heard. If they had, no one commented—to which Draco was immensely thankful. Pushing away the thought of food, Draco reaches out to grab Harry's arm, already dreading the nausea that was sure to follow their short trip.
"I'm ready."
Just as he had thought, the trip had been dreadful. Draco hadn't been as lucky this time around and lost his stomach almost as soon as they arrived in front of Black Manor. He could feel Harry patting his back sympathetically, and he was quick to apologize once he gathered his bearings. Of course, he had to get sick. What was he? A child? Actually, scratch that. Draco didn't think he ever got ill apparating as a kid, either.
"Don't stress about it. I got sick for months when I first started traveling by magic. Your body just needs time to readjust itself." Harry reassured Draco the best he could as he led him down the path to the manor's entrance. "I'll make you some tea to settle your stomach before you eat."
Draco, while still embarrassed, was happy that it was Harry he'd been sent home with—a fact that he would have scoffed at before this entire situation took place. The bespeckled wizard was easygoing and quick to help. If he was going to be stuck living with anyone, he was grateful for it to be Harry, even if it was only temporary. Not to mention, it would give Draco the chance to try and give back to the man after receiving all his help.
As the two made their way into the manor, a soft crack could be heard down the hall, before an older-looking house elf made himself known. "Master Potter, welcome home. Lunch is ready and waiting for you in the kitchen." His gravelly voice easily carried through the once silent entrance, reaching Draco's ears like a scratch to his ear drums.
"Thank you, Kreacher. Did you prepare that room like I asked of you this morning?" Harry questioned as he led Draco further into the house, the two beginning to converse as they moved through the halls.
Draco drowned out their conversation as he took in the two's dynamic. There was evident respect on both ends, and the clothes on Kreacher's back proved he was here of his own free will. It was a strange sight that the blond was far from used to. However, it was also very much welcome. He wished he treated his own house elves even half as well as Harry treated this one. He had so much to relearn, and he was going to start with this.
As the three walked into the kitchen and Kreacher was about to make his departure, Draco finally spoke up. "Thank you, Kreacher. The food looks great." He gestured to the table and offered the house elf a smile, who nodded back at him. He waited to speak again until after Kreacher left and turned to face Harry once more—who was now placing a kettle over the fire.
Once finished, Harry made his way over to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair for Draco to sit. Said blond was quick to take up the offer, sitting down gratefully with a sigh of relief. Never had he appreciated a warm fire and comfortable chair more than he did at this very moment, pulling the warm coat around him closer to his chest. His eyes fluttered closed as he took a moment to bask in his newfound freedom, undisturbed by Harry, who was watching him across the table while fixing them both a plate. Draco's being filled less with lighter items such as soup, a roll, and a few mixed vegetables.
The scent of the food finally smacked Draco's senses like a warm hug on a snowy morning, and his mouth watered like a salivating dog. Opening his eyes, he quickly took in the plate in front of him, already grabbing a spoon off the table to start shoveling the soup into his mouth. However, he didn't get far before Harry reached across the table to grab his wrist, effectively halting his movement.
"Eat slow. You'll make yourself sick again," Harry suggested with a smile, pulling his hand back just in time for the kettle to begin to whistle. The sound made Draco flinch, but he was also eager to get his hands on a fresh cup of tea. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had one. It had been long before his sentencing, from what he could recall. Letting out a soft sigh, Draco watched as Harry stood to fix them both a cup of tea before looking back down to his soup. He grabbed a small spoonful and leaned over the bowl to lightly blow at the steaming liquid, inhaling the mixture of spices and meat. Finally, Draco allowed himself to take the spoon into his mouth and taste the heavenly meal. He nearly burst out crying at the taste.
It was even better than he had expected, and Draco was quick to eat more, reminding himself to eat slowly, as Harry had suggested. He was halfway done with his bowl by the time Harry sat a steaming mug before him. He offered the man a grateful smile before setting the spoon down to gently cradle the cup in his hands. Draco practically melted into his chair as he sipped at the hot beverage, inhaling the sweet and bitter aroma. It was perfect.
Once the two had eaten their fill, Harry helped Draco to his feet. He'd grown tired over the course of their meal, the soft chatter and the warmth in his belly allowing the lack of sleep to finally catch up to him. He let Harry lead him through the manor and into a bedroom. The room was spotless, and the bed looked so incredibly comfortable. He was falling asleep just looking at it.
"Go ahead and get some rest, Malfoy. I'll wake you up in a few hours to get a bath and some fresh clothes. The Weasley's are expecting both of us for Christmas Eve dinner, and Mrs. Weasley will have my head if I let us 'starve' tonight." Harry's voice grew fond as he brought up Molly Weasley, his only mother figure, and Draco couldn't help how badly his heart ached at the thought of his own. He missed her more than words could express, and it broke his heart to know that he would never see her again.
Draco remembered the day a ministry worker had approached his cell one summer evening. She was the first human being he'd seen in almost three weeks, as he usually slept through the delivery of meals. He was initially eager to finally have a proper interaction, but the woman's grim face sent all hopes of a pleasant conversation away in an instant. She started with an apology, followed by the news of his mother's passing the previous evening. According to the worker, his mother had grown ill and didn't have the strength to recover. It took him months to even comprehend the news, much less set about working through the grief it left him with.
Snapping back to reality, Draco stepped into the room and turned to thank Harry. "I really appreciate this. Wake me whenever you feel it is best. I can always get more sleep later." Draco received a verbal approval before the raven-haired wizard shut the door with a soft 'click,' leaving the blond on his own. He slid his shoes and jacket off before eagerly crawling into the bed, setting his wand on the table next to the bed. The warm blankets were quickly tucked beneath his chin as he snuggled into pure bliss, eyes falling shut the instant his head hit the pillow.
It took Draco little to no time to fall into a deep sleep, mind blank for the first time in over three years. He didn't even so much as twitch as he slept, finally content and at peace.
Later that evening, Draco was awoken by a gentle shake to his shoulder and Harry's bright green eyes peering down at him, partly concealed by the glare in his glasses frame. "Good morning, sleeping beauty. It's getting close to dinner time. There's a bathroom across the hall from your room. I've already gotten a bath drawn and a set of clothes on the bathroom sink when you're ready. A towel and rag are also on the shelf next to the tub." He chattered on as Draco finally sat up in the bed, glancing at the window. The sun was inching lower and lower into the sky, a soft, pinkish hue decorating the clouds.
Draco turned his attention back to Harry, who backed away from the bed to allow the blond to stand. "If you need anything, just yell. Kreacher or I will come help." He finished his words with a smile before leaving the room again, giving Draco his much-needed space.
The blond yawned as he stretched his way out of the bed, feeling much like a cat after a long snooze in the sun. He made his way through the room as he rubbed the sleep from his face, stopping just outside the bedroom door to look around the hall. He spotted the open door and caught a small peak of the sink in the bathroom before padding down to cross the doorway. Pushing the bathroom door open further, Draco took in the heavenly sight of the bathtub, water warm enough to fog up the mirror above the sink.
Before long, the blond was sinking into hot water and groaning softly in relief. As much as he wanted to savor this moment, Draco was quick to wet his hair and began bathing. He didn't want to make Harry wait around for him while he soaked in a bathtub. They had somewhere to be, and Draco prided himself in his punctuality—even if the thought of spending the evening with a house full of Weasleys filled him with dread. He was still surprised he received an invitation at all, considering the absolute hell he had raised for the family. However, he was choosing to remain optimistic. Well, as optimistic as he could. He crossed his fingers that tonight would go smoothly.
Once finished with his bath and redressing, Draco brushed out the tangles he'd mostly gotten out in the tub, taking in his now fully clean appearance. He felt refreshed, having taken a short rest and a bath, and he could tell how much more alive he felt compared to earlier that morning. Though, the man wanted to die when he realized just what outfit Harry had provided him. The one and only famous Weasley Christmas sweater, a neatly stitched 'H' sewn into the front. It must have been one of Harry's older sweaters considering it fit him rather well. At least, it was better compared to the giant flannel that swamped his frame.
Shaking his head, Draco made his way back into the bedroom he'd been provided to grab the shoes from before and the warm coat lying across the end of his bed. He tugs it on along with a set of gloves and a hat, most likely left behind by Harry when he came to wake him. Once satisfied with how almost everything fit, Draco grabbed his wand from the bedside table to cast a small shrinking spell, adjusting the fit of the still-too-big trousers. After slipping his wand into the large pocket at his thigh, Draco made his way out of the room and followed the scent of something sweet down the hallway.
He found Harry packing what looked like cookies into a small box before tying it off and turning to grin at Draco. "You seem like you feel a little better. Are you ready to go?" The man asked as he grabbed a large box labeled 'presents' in large, red lettering– to which Draco immediately moved to grab the cookies that Harry placed on top that was about to slip off.
"I do. Thank you, and yes. How are we getting there?" Draco asked as he followed Harry out of the kitchen and into the sitting area they'd passed when they first arrived at the manor.
"The floo if you feel comfortable enough. I'll let you go first just in case." Harry explained as he adjusted the box in his arms to grab a bowl full of floo powder, holding it out to Draco. "Just call out 'Weasley's Burrow.' It should take you straight there."
Hesitantly, Draco grabbed a fistful of the glittery, green powder in his free hand before nodding in determination. Stepping into the fireplace, he repeated the words spoken to him and threw down the powder in a flourish. The sharp tug at his abdomen causes his grip to tighten on the box of cookies in his hand, bending the box beneath his forceful squeeze. His grip only tightened further as he stumbled out of the floo, much too unsteady on his feet. However, two large hands grabbed ahold of his shoulders, keeping the blond upright as his head snapped up to meet two amused pools of the warmest brown eyes he's ever seen.
"Easy there, blondy. Don't want ya takin' a tumble, yeah?" A deep rumble of a laugh accompanied the easygoing smile and teasing words, and Draco had to take a short step back to take in the man before him. He was strong, and his arms and hands were littered with scars: small, large, faint, deep. All sorts that were also accompanied by calluses on his fingers. Considering he didn't recognize the redhead immediately, along with his muscular physique, Draco could only assume that this was Charlie. He clearly had a strong resemblance to the rest of his family. Though, rather than being long and lanky like his brothers, the man was more stocky and firmly built.
The flare of light behind Draco broke his intense gaze, glancing back and moving slightly forward towards Charlie as Harry, not so gracefully, stumbled out of the floo. A grin spread across his face as he spotted the redhead standing next to Draco. "Charlie! Welcome home. I hope your travels were safe?" So he was right in his assumption.
Draco began to take in the room around them as the two briefly caught up. Everything looked worn and yet so comfortable. However, he didn't have long to dwell on what the couches would feel like as his attention was brought back by Harry speaking his name, introducing him to Charlie properly, who held out a hand in greeting.
Draco glanced down at the man's hand before reaching forward to wrap his own around the rough palm. Charlie's grip was firm, and the blond felt as if he needed to squeeze his hand just slightly to mirror the feeling. However, his hand was pulled away before Draco could overthink it.
"It's a pleasure to meet ya, Draco." Charlie hummed with a grin which Draco returned with his own hesitant smile. The way the man's deep voice rumbled out his name sent an odd shiver up his spine, and he began to internally scold himself for his drifting thoughts. Though, it was only fair to give himself a bit of leeway. He had lacked actual human interaction for the last three years. He needed to relearn how to properly compose himself in social situations.
"You as well, Charlie. Thanks for breaking my fall before." Draco's comment pulled another one of those deep laughs from Charlie's chest. However, the redhead didn't get much chance to reply as the sound of Molly Weasley's chastising voice reached their ears, grabbing the attention of all three men.
"Charlie Weasley, why are you keeping our guests locked away in the sitting room? Harry, my dear boy, come here. It has been too long since I've seen you." Molly exclaimed as she all but yanked Harry into her arms, squeezing a year or two of his life straight from his body. However, Harry didn't comment on the hard squeeze, just hugging the woman with a bright smile.
"Sorry, Molly. I've been a bit busy these last couple of weeks preparing for Malfoy's arrival." The man gestured toward Draco across the room as he ran a hand through his raven hair. "Be sure to go easy on him this evening. He's already going to be overwhelmed by all the people in the house."
Molly shrugged Harry's comment off and made her way over to the blond, grabbing either side of his pale face. "My, my. Look at you. Skinny as a stray. Don't you worry, dear. I'll get you plump and healthy in no time." She smiled at the stunned man before stepping away to turn to Charlie. She gave a light smack to his arm, immediately returning to her scolding. "You know better than to hide your family away, Charlie. Now go help set up the table while I get these two settled."
Charlie held up his hands in surrender, backing away from his irate mother and offering Draco and Harry a small wink before vanishing from the sitting room. Molly shook her head in fond disapproval, an exasperated sigh escaping her lips as she turned her attention to the remaining two men in the room.
"Harry, dear, you can spread the presents out beneath the tree and put the box away in one of the bedrooms until you leave." Once Harry had been addressed, Molly turned her attention to Draco, who did his best to avoid fidgeting beneath her gaze. "This way, Draco dear. I'll get you a nice cup of tea and a snack. Poor thing, you look absolutely exhausted."
Draco looked back to Harry as he was herded out of the room, the raven-haired man snickering and waving him off. Offering the other a half glare, though not filled with any real malice, the blond allowed Molly to remove him from the room and across the hall into the kitchen. Immediately he is blessed by the scent of pure bliss, taking in the table filled to the brim with different home-cooked meals. The once-forgotten box of cookies in his hand was quickly taken from the red-headed matriarch, who cooed a sweet thank you, dumping the treats onto a plate with assorted biscuits.
"Charlie, be a dear and grab a mug from the top cupboard for Draco, please." Molly all but demanded as she scurried across the kitchen to grab a sugar jar and glass of milk, setting them down on the table before looking to Draco. "Why are you still standing there, love? Do come sit down. I'm sure you need some rest." The woman pulled a seat back, and the blond glanced over to Charlie, who raised a brow, nodding his head towards the seat.
Draco made his way through the kitchen to the seat Molly pulled out for him, sitting down carefully. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley." He smiled at the woman gratefully, who waved him off with a smile. He turned his attention back to Charlie. The man walked around the table, leaning over the blond's shoulder to set down the mug before drifting over to the fireplace. The older man grabbed the steaming kettle and a tea bag from the counter, making his way back to Draco.
Draco felt the heat radiating from Charlie as he leaned over his shoulder to place a tea bag in the mug and pour the boiling water in behind it. Turning his head back and up, the blond took in the other's face, now being able to see it up close. Like all of the Weasleys, his cheeks and nose were littered with freckles. However, his were accompanied by a few faint scars that were fading rather nicely. He could only assume they were from the man's work. The man's face was also dusted in a light five-o-clock shadow, and he could not help but wonder how he'd look with actual facial hair. He thought it might suit his rather rugged appearance.
All thoughts of Charlie's facial hair ceased as the man's brown eyes turned to meet his gaze. Draco immediately turned away, embarrassed to have been caught practically ogling the Weasley. Charlie's rumbling laugh again graced his ears as the man pulled away to place the kettle back over the stove. Draco began to fix his tea with his usual two lumps of sugar and a small dash of milk to distract himself from wanting to crawl under the table in shame. Stirring it with a small spoon, the blond lifted the glass to sip at it. A grateful hum escaped his lips as he melted into the chair beneath him.
Any sense of peace he felt vanished just as fast as it settled in, however, as the one and only Ronald Weasley barrelled into the kitchen, Hermione not far behind him– though her entrance was much more graceful. The two greeted Charlie and Molly with giant hugs and warm words, the entire scene reminding him of the train station each Yule as students met with their families to return home. A strong sense of longing caused his heart to ache painfully as memories of embracing his mother flashed across his mind. He really wished he had been able to, at least once more, before she passed away.
"Bloody hell, Malfoy. Is that really you?" Ron's words shocked Draco from his thoughts, and his head snapped to face him. "You look like shite, mate."
A loud smack and yelp of pain sounded throughout the kitchen as Ron rubbed at his arm with a wince. Hermione shook her head before she made her way across the kitchen to take a seat next to the blond. Glaring back at Ron, she offered the man a chilly smile. "Make me a cup of tea?" While her tone sounded as if she was asking, the threatening demand was evident as the redhead quickly went to fix her a glass. A genuine smile took over the brunette's lips as she turned her attention back onto Draco. "How are you feeling? Harry had said he was bringing you home today."
Draco shifted around uneasily in his seat. "I'm doing as well as I can. I'm happy to see you in such good health." He replied with a hesitant smile, unsure how to talk to the now young woman. He couldn't help but feel guilty as he thought back to all of the nasty things he's said to her over the years, and he would really like to make it up to her. Though he had no idea how to begin, he started with the one thing he did know. "I'm really sorry, Granger. For the way I treated you I mean."
The woman's face softened as she rested her hand over one of Draco's on top of the table. "You've long since been forgiven, Malfoy, but I really do appreciate your apology. It means a lot." Hermione gave his hand a light squeeze before she pulled back her own to take the mug handed to her by Ron. She gave him a stern look, to which the man cleared his throat to nod at Draco.
"Sorry about before," Ron mumbled, which earned him a soft elbow to his side. Draco can't help but chuckle around his tea, smiling against the cup's rim as he takes a long sip.
"No worries, Weasley. You're right. I do," Draco held up a hand to do air quotes, "'look like shite.'" His words earned a snort from the redhead, who leaned forward against the table. Molly came behind him to smack the back of his head with a hand towel.
"Elbows off my table, Ronald. You weren't raised on a farm."
The action earned another snicker from the blond while Charlie approached Ron from behind, slapping him on the shoulders before grabbing them firmly. "I don't know, Mum. I think Ron here would blend right into a pig farm, no?" His words caused the younger of the two brothers to stand, beginning a light wrestling match that had Molly running them out of her kitchen.
"Those boys. I don't know what to do with them sometimes." Molly sighed and made her way over to the counter, looking at Hermione and Draco as she passed. "I appreciate how calm the two of you are. I'm not sure I can deal with all of their madness on my own."
The two both smiled against their mugs of tea and fell into an easy conversation. While slightly awkward at first, the two quickly set aside their former differences to just chat as two adults. Draco didn't realize just how much he missed just casual conversation.
Within an hour, the Weasley residence was in full swing. Everyone was gathering in the kitchen and taking their seats, making light conversation as Molly set the last few plates of food out on the table. Draco finally managed to take in just how full the family was– each of the Weasley siblings sitting next to their respective partners. All except Charlie, who took the open seat next to himself. The blond did his best to ignore the man's side pressing up against him due to the cramped seating at the table, only offering him a smile as he sat down.
As dinner began, Draco kept primarily quiet as he just listened to the mixed conversations around the table, only joining when spoken to first. A chorus of laughter echoed around the room as small jokes were made or someone was poked fun of, and the food on the table was vanishing much quicker than the blond had anticipated. He had barely touched his own first plate of food, finding it difficult to eat. The food was just as divine as it smelled, but he had already consumed more today than he had in the last three years. The idea of eating much else caused his stomach to grow queasy.
This, of course, doesn't go unnoticed by the man sitting next to him as Charlie lightly nudged Draco's shoulder. "Everything alright?" He spoke just loud enough to only reach the blond's ears, something he was immensely thankful of. He really didn't want to drag the entire family's mood down.
"Sorry, I'm okay. Just a bit overwhelmed, I think." Draco responded in his own quiet voice as he turned his attention to the man next to him. "The only real company I've had these last few years was much quieter and a whole lot less friendly." He smiled briefly to reassure the worried redhead, stopping himself from reaching out to smooth out the worried crease caused by his furrowed brows. He gestured down to his plate next. "I do feel a bit bad about not finishing your mum's food. It's quite good, but I don't think I can stomach much else right now."
"Don't worry about the food. We can send you back with leftovers to eat for lunch tomorrow." Charlie responded, offering his own reassurance. "Everyone should be finished eating soon. If you'd like, we can head to the sitting room now for when they start handing out presents. Usually we do it Christmas morning, but Ginny and Harry are spending the morning with Harry's godson, Teddy." He explained, gesturing towards the two across the table from them. Draco had almost forgotten about Harry and Ginny's relationship until the two had ventured into the kitchen together. They seemed to be doing quite well, and he wanted to ask if she now lived at the manor with Harry. He hadn't seen her that morning, but someone had mentioned her working.
Reigning his thoughts in once more, Draco smiled gratefully to Charlie. "If you don't think they will mind. Thank you."
"No worries at all. I tend to get overwhelmed when I come home too, so I understand where your head is at." Charlie smiled before standing to his feet, grabbing the attention of those sitting close to them at the table. "Draco and I are going to retire to the sitting room." He explained, which caused Harry to perk up.
The man placed a kiss on Ginny's cheek before standing as well. "Allow me to join you guys. Draco and I have something we need to discuss with you, Charlie." Harry informed him as he refilled his mug of tea, offering to pour Draco one as he made his way around the table. The blond was quick to accept before following Charlie and Harry out of the kitchen and into the room he'd first arrived in.
The three men settled in the room fairly quickly, Draco sinking into the soft cushions of the loveseat he was now sharing with Charlie. He felt much better now that the noise level was reduced. However, he didn't relax entirely. They still had to discuss his situation with the man sitting next to him.
"You mentioned to me before that the reserve was short staffed." Harry spoke up, always quick and to the point. Draco glanced to the side to see Charlie's brief nod of confirmation, beginning to grow antsy. "Well, when we were discussing Malfoy's options for community service to finish out his sentence, I brought up your dilemma. If it is alright with you, I suggested that he do his service in Romania at the reserve as an extra hand. We already have Kingsley's approval, but we figured we'd run the idea by you before reaching out to confirm it with your boss."
Draco held his breath as he waited for a response, hands gripping his mug tightly as he watched the soft ripples of tea glide across the surface. He had to force his gaze up to take in Charlie's contemplative gaze, having grown antsy by the silent thirty seconds of silence. He all but sagged in relief as the man finally spoke up.
"I don't see a problem with it. I know I, for one, will be extremely grateful for an extra hand." Charlie grinned, wrapping an arm around Draco's shoulders to give him a light squeeze. "It will be hard work, but I'll personally train you and walk you through everything you need to know." The man retracted his arm after a moment– Draco already longing for the warmth to return– and nodded at Harry, who was sitting across from them. "I'll reach out to get confirmation myself. I'll send a letter first thing in the morning. It shouldn't take but a few days for a response, so I will let you know as soon as I hear the word."
Harry's bright smile was contagious, and Draco couldn't keep his own from creeping onto his face. "Thank you, Charlie. You have no idea how relieving that is to hear. I promise I will work my hardest if it all works out." The blond stated as he nodded his head in determination. He knew that it wasn't confirmed yet, but Draco couldn't help the hope building up in his chest. He was more than eager to get out of there and leave all of his troubles behind. This would be a fresh start for him, and he was ready to begin.
The three continued to chat as the rest of the Weasleys began to trickle in. Once more, the room felt cramped and loud, but Draco felt much more at ease than he had previously, a large portion of his stress being removed right from his shoulders. He leaned back into his seat, nursing his cup of tea while presents were passed around and laughs were shared. The man grew lost in thought as he took in the lively scene before him. Even growing up, Christmas had never felt more… happy. Everyone here seemed to truly and genuinely love each other, and he felt awful for feeling jealous of it. However, jealousy quickly morphed into confusion as a gift was passed into the blond's lap.
"Mum made you a little something. Go ahead and open it." Charlie reached forward to take the mug of tea from Draco's hands, placing it on the short table in front of them. The blond thanked him softly as his fingers trailed over the silver wrapping paper, eyes flicking to the top corner of the gift where his name was written in intricate lettering. He looked up to see all of the smiling faces of the Weasley family staring directly at him, and he glanced once more at Charlie, who gave him a brief nod of encouragement.
As delicately as he was able, Draco unwrapped the silver paper neatly, pacing it to the side as he opened the small box that was revealed beneath the paper. He reached inside to pull out a soft, knitted scarf made of emerald and silver yarn. His fingers slid across the soft material as he met the eyes of Molly across the room. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Weasley. I love it." He hadn't expected to receive anything this evening, nor did he expect the wetness to his eyes as he reached up to wipe at them quickly.
Maybe everything really would turn out fine.
Presents had long since been handed out, and Draco could feel what little of his social battery he had left vanish within an instant. Wrapping his new scarf around his shoulders, Draco stood to his feet and briefly announced that he would step out for some air. He caught Charlie's concerned gaze for the second time that evening. As before, he offered a reassuring smile before making his way out of the burrow.
Standing on the pathway in front of the entrance, Draco held out a hand to allow the gentle falling snow to cling to his hand. What would once stick to his skin instantly melted from the heat in his fingers, and he couldn't keep the smile from his lips as a soft breeze tickled his cheeks. Inhaling deeply, Draco felt the crisp, winter air curl within his lungs before being exhaled as he let the air go. He was perfectly content to sit alone in the quiet, enjoying the peaceful evening as his eyes fluttered shut.
The soft click of a door and heavy footsteps crunching the snow behind him encouraged his eyes to open once more as he turned to look over his shoulder. Charlie's kind gaze met his own as he made his way down the path to meet Draco. He came to a stop directly to the right of the blond, taking his own moment to bask in the cool air. The blond studied the blissful expression he wore on his face as snow began to catch onto his lashes.
After a moment, Charlie turned his eyes back to Draco and smiled. "I hope it's alright if I join you. I needed a bit of air myself, and I could really use the quiet company." He hummed, causing a small laugh to escape Draco's grasp.
"I don't mind at all. I could also use a bit of quiet company." The blond teased, eyes drifting back to the cloudy evening sky. The weather was too bad to see any stars, but he felt that the night sky would have been beautiful otherwise. He knew the minute the clouds vanished, the moon would light up the snow in a most gorgeous display.
The two stood side by side, limbs brushing against one another delicately as they basked in the quiet evening. They do so until Draco shivered and lifted his hands up to blow warm air onto his red-tipped fingers. Charlie's own hands reach forward to envelop his freezing hands with his warm, gloved ones.
"We should get you inside. It wouldn't do to have you fall sick on your first day home." Charlie gave his hands a light squeeze before rubbing the back of his hands, trying to build warmth through the friction. "It's also getting really late. I don't know about you, but I'm a bit of an old man. It is long past my bedtime."
Draco's cheeks warm and another laugh escapes him. "I could definitely use the sleep." He hummed in response, glancing down at their conjoined hands. It felt nice– having another's warmth seep into his cold skin. How he would have longed for the same within the fall and winter months of his time in Azkaban.
Charlie offered Draco's hands one last squeeze before letting them go, gesturing towards the burrow. "Ready?"
Sparing one last glance to the snowy sky, Draco nodded in approval– the two making their way inside.
True to his word, Charlie visited Draco and Harry by the week's end. He was ecstatic to inform them that his boss had confirmed the paperwork to allow Draco to begin his community service in Romania. As soon as the holidays were officially over and the blonde had his assets sorted, he and Charlie would be heading to the reserve to begin his work immediately.
The news sent the hope Draco had formed skyrocketing to an entirely new level. He was eager to write to Shacklebolt that he would receive the paperwork within the next few days to allow Draco to serve his time at the reserve. He had already begun sorting out his assets– starting with selling the land of the previous Malfoy Manor.
The following week flew by in a blur, Draco tying up all the loose ends while preparing to leave for Romania. He and Charlie had ventured out to various stores to buy proper clothes that fit the blond and any equipment he'd need while working at the reserve. By the time it was time to leave, Draco was more than ready to move on without ever looking back– other than keeping in touch with everyone here, not wanting to break the promise Molly Weasley had him make.
As Charlie held out the portkey in his hand and met Draco's nervous gaze, he grinned with a slight nod. "You ready?"
Taking a deep breath, Draco's hand curled around the other side of the portkey, nodding his head back in confirmation. "Ready."