It was a cold autumn day; the wind blowing so hard it threw leaves around the once perfectly manicured lawn and nearly uprooted trees. It was not exactly the ideal weather for owl’s to be flying in to deliver the post, so you could imagine Draco Malfoy’s surprise when a black-as-night Owl crashed into one of the kitchen windows at the Malfoy Mansion. Rose, Draco’s wife of nearly eight years, jumped up from her seat and hurried over to the window and flung it open before the House Elf could even look up. The Owl flew through it happily and landed on the kitchen table, hooting feebly. It dropped the letter in its beak directly in front of Draco, who didn’t even glance at the writing on the front before he slit the envelope open with his wand. As soon as he unfolded the letter and he recognized the handwriting, and felt his stomach clench uncomfortably.
Draco,Draco swallowed and glanced up at Rose, and then to his six year old son, Scorpio, both of whom were watching him expectantly, waiting for him to read the letter out loud. He cleared his throat and folded the letter up quickly, “Er…Ha- Mr. Potter has asked me to drop by…something about decoding some sort of relic.”
“Can I go, father?” Scorpio asked without missing a beat, “I really want to meet Harry Potter!”
Draco shook his head quickly, “It will be nothing more than a quick meeting, I’m sure…and it’s for work. You would be bored.”
“But-!”
“Scorpio, mind your father.” Rose told him gently, squeezing their sons’ shoulder gently. Scorpio sighed and nodded, looking away from them both.
“I suppose I had better go,” Draco muttered, and scribbled I’ll be there at 1:00 on the middle fold.
“But, Draco, it’s Saturday!” Rose protested, “Can’t this wait until Monday?”
“It sounded quite urgent.” Draco told her nonchalantly, handing the letter back to the owl, who snapped up in its beak and turned its head toward the window. Draco thought it looked like it was trying to find some way to stay out of the wind, but then remembered that this was an owl he was thinking about; they weren’t that intelligent.
The owl took flight and swooped out into the blustery day. It immediately was thrown about, and Draco wondered if it would make it back to the Potter’s safely. Nonetheless, he glanced up at the clock hanging perfectly on the wall, and after seeing that it was twenty to one decided he had better get ready. He stood and left Rose and Scorpio in the kitchen, retreating down the hall to go take a shower.
Twenty minutes later, Draco Malfoy, dressed in an elegant set of robes, appeared with a pop just outside the front gate of the Potter home in Godric’s Hollow. He knew that this had been the very place that the Dark Lord had murdered Potter’s parents years ago, and had failed to murder him. Draco thought it was strange that he and his wife – the Weasley girl that they had gone to school with – chose to live here of all places. He wouldn’t want to set foot in the place if his parents had been murdered there. But this was Harry Potter, hadn’t it been said that he was deranged and unstable, in years past? He didn’t want to even try to understand what the other man was thinking.
He pushed open the black iron gate, walked passed the neatly trimmed hedges, and up the stone walkway until he reached the stoop of the quaint brick cottage. He raised his fist to the oak door and rapped on it three times. The door opened almost instantly, and a tiny creature with bat-like ears, a fuzzy white tuft of hair on top of its head, and drooping skin stared up at him.
“Master Draco!” the House-Elf yelped, his round eyes going large.
“Elf...” Draco said, unable to keep the distaste out of his voice, “I’m here to see Ha…Mr. Potter.”
Kreacher nodded, his enormous ears flapping against his head. “Please, sir, come in.” he squeaked, bowing Draco into the house and leading him into the brightly lit drawing room, “Master Harry is in his study, if Master Draco would just wait here, Kreacher will…”
“Yes, yes, just go already.” Draco snapped impatiently. He had no patience for the Elf, and he didn’t want to be here as it was, but Harry had owled him…
The House Elf bowed clumsily to Draco and scurried out of the room, leaving him alone in the handsome room. He scanned the room; it was nothing like the home where he had grown up - filled with objects of great value that were forbidden to touch, uncomfortable furniture, dark colors, cursed items… – but with squishy armchairs, candid photos and children’s toys littering the floor. He spotted a toy broomstick amongst the toys, and a doll, which was blinking stupidly up at the ceiling, and every once in a while, a finger would move slightly.
Draco walked over to the mantel above the fireplace, which was filled with photographs of the family. The Potters blinked happily up at him, sometimes laughing, sometimes far too serious in posed photographs, and once, there was an image of three young children rolling down a grassy hill.
He heard a floorboard squeak behind him and turned quickly. Harry Potter was watching him from the doorway, his hair as messy as ever, his bright green eyes showing no hint of emotion from behind his round glasses. “Malfoy. I’m pleased you could make it…would you like a drink?”
Draco jerked his head in a noncommittal way, and Harry summoned two glasses filled with a deep amber liquid. One zoomed over to Draco, who caught it, but did not drink from it. “Where is your wife? And your children?”
“Ginny took James, Lily and Albus to the Tonks’ for a visit.”
“And you missed the chance to socialize with your Godson?”
“I knew you were coming, didn’t I?”
Draco sipped from his drink, needing something to do besides make small talk with Potter. He recognized the drink as Firewhiskey immediately as it felt as though his throat had caught on fire as soon as it touched it. Harry took a sip from his own drink and walked over to Draco, who took a step backwards.
“Where is this artifact of the Dark Lords?”
“Always straight to business with you, isn’t it, Malfoy?” Harry sighed, and then motioned for Draco to follow him, “Very well…come with me.”
Harry set his glass down on a nearby wooden table, and Draco quickly set his down next to it; he had no desire to become irrational and forget his place. If his wife found out…he shuddered at the thought. He didn’t think he’d be able to bare it.
Harry led Draco out of the drawing room, passed the brightly lit kitchen, up a flight of stairs, and into Harry’s study, which was cluttered with paper and books. Harry motioned for Draco to sit in the high backed leather chair, and he did so without thinking. His mind had suddenly gone numb, filled with the memory of the first, and last time he had been in Harry’s office. He had just started working for the Ministry, helping the Auror’s with tips on finding hiding Death Eaters, and he had come to Harry to give him some information about the current Death Eater they were hunting. Ginny and the children had been at Ginny’s parent’s home for some reason or another, so it was just he and Harry, and they had started arguing quite loudly. (Draco was actually surprised the neighbor’s hadn’t heard) Someone had ended up coming to a conclusion to the argument through…sex. Draco had never thought it possible before, but he was swept up into a whirlwind affair with none other than The Boy Who Lived, and it had been marvelous, until he suspected that his wife was getting suspicious. He had ended it quickly after that, too terrified of what might happen if they continued what they were doing.
Draco snapped out of his reminiscence, and realized he was staring at Harry and Harry at him. Harry had that familiar hungry look in his eyes that told Draco he knew exactly what he had just been thinking about, and that Harry wanted it just as much as Draco did. But he wouldn’t do it. He couldn’t.
Draco cleared his throat loudly, “So…er…this package…what is it?”
Harry blinked a few times and shook his head once. He looked away from Draco and pulled a concealed drawer open. He rummaged around for a few moments - Draco could hear some of the contents rolling around inside - and then pulled out a large, grubby package, offering it to Draco. “I found this in Albania, and was wondering if you knew anything about it.”
Draco took the package from Harry and unwrapped it, revealing a book so old, that the title was unreadable. Draco looked up sharply at Harry. “A book, Potter? You summoned me here for a damned book?”
“No,” Harry admitted his eyes searching Draco’s, “but I have a feeling you knew the real reason as soon as you stepped into my office.”
Draco’s eyes widened and he stood up so quickly that the chair toppled over. “I told you…we finished it. Our relationship was to be purely professional.”
Harry stood up as well, but slower. He walked around the desk, and placed his hands gently on Draco’s shoulders. “And I told you, Draco, that I couldn’t keep it professional.”
Draco shrugged Harry’s hands off of his shoulders, “We both have families, Potter. I won’t risk mine for your simple pleasures.”
“My simple pleasures?” Draco was surprised to hear the outrage in Harry’s voice, “You came to me, Malfoy! Or don’t you remember?”
“I remember!” Draco glared, an image of Harry’s glorious tanned skin, beaded with sweat, below him, Harry’s face screwed up in pleasure, or maybe it was pain...Draco gave his head a shake and resumed his glare, “But it was you, Potter, who kept coming back.”
“You wanted it just as much as I did, Malfoy.”
Draco shook his head, mouthed a retort that he couldn’t voice and then turned to leave. Harry grabbed Draco’s arm, but Draco shoved him away roughly. Harry stumbled, but regained his footing quickly, and lunged at Draco, anger in his eyes. He caught Draco around the middle, and pushed him backwards into a glass cabinet. Draco howled as the glass shards pierced his skin, and aimed a kick at Harry. The blow landed on Harry’s jaw, leaving a welt and a trickle of blood dripping down his chin. Harry wiped the blood away, growled angrily, and they lunged for each other again, both struggling to best the other, but neither getting anywhere. They struggled, pushing against one another’s shoulders, trying to get the better of the other, until finally they broke apart, panting, and glaring at one another.
Neither spoke at first, until Draco muttered, “Damn you, Potter.” He lunged for him again, but this time the look in his eyes was not anger. Draco shoved Harry against the wall behind him and kissed him hard on the mouth.
Harry’s hands were instantly all over Draco, running through his hair long hair, wrapping his arms around his back to pull him closer, while Draco kept Harry pressed against the wall by pushing against his shoulders. Draco felt Harry’s tongue enter his mouth, caressing first the rough roof of his mouth and then his own tongue. Draco reveled in the taste of Harry, wanting, almost needing, more of him.
Draco’s hands were rough over Harry’s body, his own tongue beginning to dart in and out of Harry’s mouth. Harry let out a moan of longing, his hands grabbing hold of Draco’s shirt, bunching it in his hands in an attempt to pull him closer.
The sound of a car door slamming and the high-pitched laughter of children filtered in through the open window, and the two men flew apart as if they had been scalded. They stared at each other almost fearfully before Harry ran to the window, and confirmed their fears. Just below, making her way to the front door was Ginny, with Harry’s children laughing and running across the lawn. Harry stared at them, his breathing ragged. He heard Draco move close behind him, so close they were nearly touching, and look down at the scene. Draco sucked in a deep breath before stepping away from the window. Harry looked around at him and their eyes met for a moment. Draco broke the gaze by spinning on the spot and with a small pop, Draco Malfoy disapparated from Godric’s Hollow.
Draco appeared again just outside of the Mansion, his face flushed and his breathing just as ragged as Harry’s had been. He took a few moments to pull himself together, not noticing that the torrential winds had ceased, before running his hand through his hair and pushing the door open. The delicious smell of freshly baked cookies greeted him, making him feel even guiltier than he already was. While he had been gone, restarting his affair with Harry Potter, his wife and son had been making treats.
When he walked into the kitchen, he saw Scorpius licking sticky, blue frosting off of his fingers, while Rose slathered frosting onto round sugar cookies. “Scorpius, if you keep eating all of the frosting, there won’t be any left for the cookies.”
Scorpius frowned at Rose and slapped a cookie into the blue frosting, splattering it everywhere. He grinned up at Rose, who forced a smile, and wiped it up with an already frosting-stained cloth. She looked up and upon seeing Draco, her smile widened, “Hello, darling, what did Mr. Potter want?”
“Just work stuff…confidential,” Draco muttered, kissing her distractedly on the cheek.
Rose’s smile turned chill at this statement, and she turned away from him. Draco’s stomach turned, his blood seemed to freeze, and he knew his face must be whiter than it already was. Did she know? Did she realize what had happened?
“Father,” Scorpius asked looking up at Draco, “will you take me to the Potter’s next time you go?”
Draco glanced down at Scorpius, “I don’t want you to associ…”
“Of course he will, Scorp. In fact, we’re all going over there for the dinner tomorrow night.” Rose cut across Draco, her back still turned to him.
Draco stared at her, his face paling further. “We…we are?”
“Yes, you see…I saw Ginny Potter and her three lovely children walking down the street…they had gone to see Mr. Potter’s godson, I believe, and we got to talking…and we decided that it was about time we tried to heal some of those old school-day wounds. Although, from the amount of time you’ve been spending over at the Potter’s lately, it would seem that you no longer feel any hatred for Harry at all.” She kept his gaze for a moment, telling Draco that she knew exactly what had happened, and that Ginny probably did as well, “But, she thought dinner would be best, and I agreed. So, tomorrow night.”
“But…Rose…I…”
“Stop spluttering, Draco, it’s already decided. Besides, Scorpius needs some children his own age to play with. I believe their second son, Albus is the same age.”
“Does that mean he’s going to Hogwarts at the same time as me?” Scorpius asked excitedly.
“Yes, dear.” Rose smiled at their son, “I think we’ve got all the cookies, why don’t you go wash up?”
Scorpius nodded and jumped off of his stool. Once he had disappeared from view, Rose busied herself with cleaning up, and refused to look at Draco until he grabbed the bowl of leftover frosting from her hands, set it on the counter, and held her wrists gently. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”
Rose looked up at Draco, her eyes icy, “You see...I think I do. I saw that gleam in your eyes this morning when you read his letter; you never react to me that way. How am I supposed to compete with The Chosen One, Draco? I don’t think I can stand being your second choice. You’re…you’re going to have to chose; me, or him.”
She pulled her hands away from him, picked up the bowl of frosting, wiped it clean with her wand, and left the kitchen, leaving half of the dishes still dirty. Draco just stood there, staring at the spot she had just vacated, his mind numb.
He knew…he knew they shouldn’t have…but Harry had convinced him, like he always did…and now he could very well lose the only family that meant something to him…because of him. “Never again,” Draco vowed quietly to himself, “Never again.”