Empty Spaces

Chapter 43

"Draco... I..." Harry started to argue, but trailed off, looking torn.

"It'll be fine," Draco reassured, "This isn't like the last time. She's gotten help, real help.. Besides, you have classes on Monday."

So Valentine's Day came around, but instead of spending the day spoiling his boyfriend with all sorts of ridiculous romantic gestures, Harry settled for tagging along as Draco tied up every loose end under the sun because that's what Draco did: Cleared his week with Aberforth, double and triple checking that the ledger was balanced and the kitchen was spotless ("I've run this inn for more years than you've been alive, kid, I think I can run it for a week on my own again"). Headed to the Ministry office to file his report that he would be going down to St Mungo's in the afternoon ("Got it, thank you Mr. Malfoy"). Packed and repacked his bag ("If you think you might want to study, just bring the damn books!"). Harry supposed it was typical for them anyway– life is anything but ordinary when your name is either Harry Potter or Malfoy. And then Draco was off into the fireplace with promises to write and make up for their lackluster Valentine's the moment he came back.

Harry considered visiting Hermione at the sweetshop, but decided there was no way he could face the crowds of couples, so he grabbed his broom and went flying instead. The wind and the sun and the cold were all welcome companions, familiar and comforting, but Harry couldn't outfly the overwhelming anxiety chasing at his heels, so he begrudgingly trudged back up to their flat to await Draco's owl.

"Harry, everything okay? You look terrible," Hermione announced her return from work late that afternoon.

"Happy Valentine's to you too," Harry managed a halfhearted laugh.

"You know what I mean," Hermione said, taking a seat with him at the table. "How did it go this morning? Have you heard from Draco?"

Harry shook his head.

"Harry, what's wrong? Something has been bothering you for days, more than that. Is everything okay? Did something happen between you two...?"

"What? No, it's not that... it's... Hermione, I know why your application was denied." It seemed so surreal to finally say the words aloud. How many times had he had the conversation inside his own head, asking himself how to break it to her and wondering what her reaction might be... He just had to get it over with.

"How do you know?"

"Because– because Lucius Malfoy wrote to me," Harry said. Now that he'd started, he had to finish. So he launched into an explanation– how Lucius had offered him a deal, a deal that Harry had no intention of taking whatsoever. And finally, how Lucius had been right: That the guilt was crushing. So this is how he does it. He's not wrong. And yet, the whole thing is so incredibly wrong.

"Harry..." Hermione reached across the table and took his hand in hers, looking into his eyes; a comforting gesture rather than a romantic one. "Harry, look at me. I'm glad I wasn't accepted. I mean it! Look at what this reveals about the Ministry Apprenticeships. If blackmail and bribery are my only tickets in, I don't want anything to do with it. Even if someone– you or Lucius or whoever– throws their name around to get me in the door, I'm going to refuse. I've found three private practitioners who want to take me, and am waiting to hear back from a fourth. So please, don't worry about it and don't worry about me. Okay?"

Harry nodded slowly as an invisible weight lifted off his chest.

"You told Draco, though, right?" Hermione gave him a scrutinizing look.

"Er..."

"Harry! Don't you think that's something he'd like to know about??" Hermione scolded.

"I know, you're right, you're right!" Harry surrendered. In retrospect, it now seemed incredibly stupid on his part– why hadn't he said something the moment he received Lucius' letter...? "It was just... one thing after another, how could I add something else when there was already so much going on??" Even his excuses sounded lame.

"Yes, I know," Hermione said patiently, "But Harry, you're going to have to say something when he comes back. The longer you wait, the worse it will be when you finally speak up."

Harry nodded again. Hermione was right, she was always right.

"You should come out tonight," Hermione invited, changing the subject. "Neville, Ginny, Luna, and I are all meeting up for butterbeers. You should join us, it'll be good for you. Sitting here waiting won't make Draco's owl come any faster."

Right again.

The Three Broomsticks was crowded, typical for a holiday, but the anonymity was nice and Harry soon found himself swept up in the familiar excitement of his friends' futures as plans solidified, contracts signed, purchases made, and travel visas acquired.

"What about you, Harry?" Ginny finally asked, smiling brightly in his direction, "Any thoughts on what next year might look like for you?"

"I... don't know..." Harry hesitated. After spending six years hating Potions, always dragging behind, how would he tell his friends that he was now considering doing it for a career...?

"Oh, come on, Harry!" Ginny urged, while Neville and Luna murmured their own encouragement and unconditional support for whatever strange plans Harry could possibly have conceived-- or not, apparently that counted as something too.

"I don't know, nothing's been decided yet, but I might... continue with Potions next year," Harry finally gave in. "Holmberg's been giving me some career advice after class..."

"So THAT'S what you guys have been doing!" Ginny beamed, "Harry, that's incredible, I'm so happy for you–"

"Harry, that's awesome, you should go for it–" Neville interrupted.

"I always knew you had a knack for Potions–" Luna smiled.

"Wait, what– no, you didn't–" Harry pointed out, unable to get a word in around his friends' gushing praise, so unlike the empty words he'd heard all summer... this was genuine joy, excitement, happiness...

Draco should be here to share in all of this.

It was a simple decision really, and now that he'd decided, Harry couldn't figure out why it had taken him so long in the first place. The moment Draco came home, Harry would come clean about everything: Lucius, Potions, Germany... Even if they didn't end up going, it would be a decision that they made together. And that was what mattered most.

Draco's owl was waiting outside the window when they arrived home that evening; Harry rushed over and tore open the envelope while Hermione waited at his side, expectant.

"What did he say, is everything okay?" she asked, peering around Harry's shoulder. Harry nodded, suddenly able to breathe properly for the first time all day.

"Narcissa is doing much better," Harry replied, reading, "They went back to the Manor this afternoon... she's talking again, eating... There's a team of healers with them, they'll take turns staying with her, but for now, they are all just getting settled... Looks... looks like things are going well... Draco will probably be back here next weekend."

"Oh, Harry, that's all good news!" Hermione sounded as relieved as Harry felt. He even dared to allow himself the indulgent feeling of hope.

Maybe everything really is going to be okay after all.