Chapter Text
Draco leaned against his bedroom doorframe, staring at the lump under the covers fondly. He hadn't expected him to sleep there, not at all, but it was fine with him. He needed the extra affection, after this past long week at work.
"Didn't I try to get you up an hour ago?" he asked, shaking his head wryly. He could sleep like a rock, he knew. It was inconvenient at times, and rather frustrating, but it was endearing.
There was no response, just some stirring from under the blanket.
"Come on, it's nine o' clock and I don't want to eat breakfast alone again! You sleep too much, lately," he protested, a whine tinging his voice. He crossed his arms when there was no response again.
"I'm going to pick you up and carry you out of bed, dammit!" he announced, marching over to the bed and ripping off the covers.
"You're not even technically allowed to sleep here in the first place," he added, glaring now the still-sleeping, curly haired, light brown mutt of a dog that had kicked him out of the bed last night so he could curl up in it. He was almost fully grown, as he took up most of the bed, but Draco didn't like to admit that to himself. Dashing was still a pup to him, and he still remembered the day he had picked him up from the muggle pound when he was only six weeks old.
He hefted the beast onto his shoulder, and grunted. "You're getting to big for this..." he grumbled, and Dashing whined low in response.
He carried him into the hallway, but when he reached the staircase, he set him onto the ground. "You'll have to make it down to the kitchen on your own, you great oaf." He didn't want to risk falling down the stairs... again. Dashing liked being carried around, and Draco decided he couldn't pamper the dog like that.
And it didn't help that he covered all of his clothes in hair, either.
Dashing, still half-asleep, looked up at him through the whites of his eyes. Don't you love me?
Draco pointed towards the stairs. "Go!" he commanded, and the dog listened. Draco followed him down the staircase, and into the large living room downstairs. The walls were painted a strong blue, the floor dark hardwood, and the sofas were a soft, off-white. The sofas was probably a mistake, he had realized after adopting Dashing, but there were always cleaning charms. They had certainly come in handy, though.
His tea cup from earlier still sat on the glass coffee table, so he picked it up with a levitating charm and carried it into his kitchen.
Every day, he was astounded by how different his new home was from the Manor. He had sold it a few years ago, after his father had been sentenced to Azkaban and his mother had moved off with some politician to live out their days in Ecuador. Despite the fact that he had probably condemned himself to be haunted by any ghosts of Malfoys past for all eternity, he was glad he had gotten rid of it. Despite its haunted past (which he couldn't bear to remember every day), there had been several people who wanted to buy it.
So, he had sold it and whatever other possessions the Ministry hadn't come in and confiscated. He made it out with a gaudy galleon, and more rich than most people could have ever imagined. He used some of the money to help out friends of his who had started new businesses, and some more of it went to post-war charities. Along with a year spent doing charity work in India (and living like a complete animal, he thought), he had practically won over everyone who mattered and was able to get on with life.
Potter's testifying for him at his trial had certainly helped, too. And he had given him his wand back in a very public ceremony (which was most un-Potter-like), which was the most impressively gracious way of announcing that he trusted Draco.
Draco's life was easy now. He spent his time working small diplomacy jobs for the Ministry, which was a job he had obtained after the trial when his careful wording and composure had attracted the attention of the Head of International Affairs, who happened to be a former-Slytherin. When he wasn't doing that, he was pampering Dashing to his death--and the brat was becoming spoiled, he noted as he refused to step onto the stone floor of the kitchen until Draco had cast a warming charm on it for him.
Casting the dog a warning glance, he went to the ice box to pull out his food. Fine, grass-fed beef and some crushed up extra supplements; Draco believed in only buying the best (if possible, which was for him), including for his dog.
He served some into a dish and set it on the floor, walking over to the bar-counter where his own meal waited for him with a warming charm. The two companions ate their food separately, in silence. But, Draco hadn't dragged the beast from bed for nothing but its company. He liked someone to talk to, and Dashing had proven sentient enough.
"Why did you feel the need to sleep in my bed last night, you great slobbering creature?" he demanded, glancing down at the mess he had made on the floor. Draco cast another cleaning charm, and it was gone.
Dashing, naturally, did not answer, and continued to eat his food without care.
"What should we do today?" he asked him. "I've not another trip for the Ministry for another week, so we've plenty of time to spend. Would you fancy a trip to the beach?"
Dashing looked up at that, and stared at Draco with an expression that clearly said, We are not going anywhere wet, ever again.
Draco laughed, shaking his head. "Of course. No more water. Not after the camping trip."
He and Dashing had gone for a week by a lake in the Scottish Highlands in the winter, and the poor creature had decided to go swimming halfway through the trip. He had been freezing for the rest of the day, despite the countless warming and drying spells he had cast on him.
"Oh. I know what we need to do!" Draco exclaimed. "We haven't taken you into the animal healer in months. You need a check up," he reminded the dog, who had stopped his eating and was staring up at Draco with fear and betrayal.
Actually, the beach sounds wonderful now! How about we go there? There's no needles or pastes there.
Draco grinned. "Oh, you're not getting out of it that easy. You don't want blood-swamp worms, do you?"
Dashing just whined at him, and tucked his tail between his legs.
"Come on. I'll owl them, and we'll have an appointment for you before dinner time."
The animal healer's building was small, a orange and pink hole in the wall next to Eeylop's Owl Emporium. Draco found it detestable that the shop that sold the animals was more well kept and well funded than the place that helped you take care of the animals, but he supposed that was just how it worked. Most people assumed they had enough magical abilities and potions ingredients to keep their animals well, but Draco only wanted the best for Dashing.
Dashing, however, didn't seem to agree with that. He shook and he whined and he had to be dragged into the building, as he wouldn't even let Draco carry him.
Traitor! His big brown eyes seemed to say.
But Draco had dragged him inside anyway, and greeted the old, dark skinned man who was the receptionist. He had bright eyes and a wide smile and was always happy to see Draco and Dashing.
"Mr. Malfoy!" He said fondly. "The best dog owner in all of England." He reached behind a desk to pull out the organic dog treats Draco had given him last time he came in, and pulled one out to give to Dashing, who appreciated the gesture but was just as off put as before.
"Thank you, Mr. Gill." Draco smiled back. "He's particularly nervous about today; he was perfectly cheeky before I mentioned coming here. I think he remembers the shots from his last visit," he added in a stage whisper.
Mr. Gill laughed heartily, and told them to take a seat.
Draco focused again on his terrified dog, this time scooping him up into his arms and sitting down with him on his lap on the cushioned bench in the corner. He stroked behind Dashing's ears and mumbled to him reassuring, gibberish things. But none of them worked.
"You'll be fine, you dramatic beast. You know everyone here is nice to you!" he whispered.
Dashing was growing heavy on his lap, but he was very stiff, and he didn't want him to become scared the moment he set him on the floor. He sighed, and resigned to shifting under the weight. He really is no longer a puppy, damn it. Not that he doesn't act like one...
"That's a strange choice for a lap dog, Malfoy." Someone across from him chuckled.
Draco hadn't even noticed there was anyone else there, so concerned he was for Dashing. He looked up, and immediately his heart skipped a beat. And then it started going far too fast.
Harry bleeding Potter had been sitting across from him, a green bird perched on his shoulder. And Draco hadn't even noticed!
"Potter?" Draco asked, for just a moment betraying his shock. He composed himself in a moment, however. "And he is not a lap dog. He just needs my emotion support right now!" He added sourly.
Potter chuckled, and the colorful bird on his shoulder nipped at his ear. "Never imagined you'd be giving emotional support to anyone, let alone a dog." He laughed mockingly, and the bird trilled in agreement.
"He's Britain's greatest dog owner, Mr. Potter!" Mr. Gill called out good naturedly. "That is the best treated dog you will ever see."
Draco lifted his chin and smirked, and then returned his attention to Dashing, who had begun shivering. Potter wasn't worth Draco's time, anyway.
"Still," Potter said, apparently not giving up his pathetic attempts at conversation, "I'd never expect you to be a dog person."
Draco exhaled deeply and rolled his shoulders, trying to give off the aura of exasperation. "And I never thought you'd be a parrot person." He scoffed, trying to ignore Potter's ridiculous stare. What is he smiling about?
"He's not a parrot. He's a Lilac Crested Amazon.," Potter corrected him, enunciating carefully. "Isn't that right, Feldspar?" he cooed at the bird, which flared his tail a bit and lifted his head.
"Lilaaac AmaZON!" the bird cried in agreement, nuzzling Potter's face again.
"It talks..." Draco groaned when Dashing jumped at the sound, staring at the bird in shock. He soothingly stroked his dog, urging him to clam down.
Potter smiled proudly. "He's a magical breed, so he's smarter than most birds. He's got quite a personality." The bird preened itself at the mention of its own superiority. "I bought Feldspar a few months ago when I was in Mexico doing some field work."
"Why in Merlin's name would you name him after a mineral?" asked Draco, now admittedly slightly interested.
"Sounded nice," Potter mumbled, and shrugged with the one shoulder the bird wasn't on. It looked like a very natural motion, as if the bird had spent a lot of time on that shoulder. Draco cringed imagining the mess that could have made.
"Sounded nice..." Draco repeated, rolling his eyes. "Only you would come up with a mundane reason like that for naming something."
Potter winced, looking hurt, and the bird mimicked him. "Well, what's your crup named?" he demanded.
"He's not a crup!" Draco insisted, and Dashing jerked from the outcry. Attempting to soothe the animal again, he finally replied, "His name is Dashing. And there's a story behind it."
"Well, there's a story behind Feldspar, too!" Potter argued, and the bird squawked in agreement.
"Magic stuff!" it screeched, and Potter stroked it in congratulations.
"Mr. Potter?" The door opened, and the middle aged witch that ran the animal hospital opened a door. "We're ready to see Feldspar."
Potter sneered at Draco. "See ya around, Malfoy."
"Hopefully it shan't come to that!" Draco called after him, turning back to continue soothing Dashing.
As he scratched the honey-colored dog's ears, he felt less and less upset with his encounter with Potter. It unnerved him that he had lost his cool so easily around him... Usually, he was the diplomat. He could stay calm. But Potter had riled him up, and it hadn't even seemed like he was trying. It was... unnerving.
He would do his best to forget about this.